Bargains, Deals, Sales, Galore.

The government has been enduring the budget cuts forced by sequestration for quite a while.  It has become a  boon for bargain hunters.  The government has been laying off people, left, right, up, down, in the middle, the ax is falling everywhere.  And all of those people had desks, desk chairs, staplers, pen holders, lever handled three hole punch machines, and computers.  Of course, the government stores some of this, but much of it goes on sale, ridiculously cheap.

If you know someone you can find some good deals.  Fortunately, we here at Life Explained know lots of somebodies.  We had several large defense department contracts during the late 90s and the early part of the last decade.  Mostly dealing with the construction of parking structures in hostile environments, nobody wants their M1A2 Abrams, 68 ton, Main Battle Tank to sit out in the elements, and get all spotted and potentially rusty.

Or that is what we thought, and so did several members of key congressional committees, who received generous election donations from an unnamed donor.  Turns out those things are remarkably sturdy, and a lot bigger, and heavier than cars, even the big SUVs.  Man, was that general guy mad when that tank fell through the floor, and landed on his limousine.  It would have been funny the way he was hopping around, screaming and swearing, and throwing his sunglasses and hat on the ground, if it weren't for all of those guys with all of those guns, knives, hand grenades, rocket launchers, and all sorts of explosive, violent stuff. It seemed like everybody there was holding a weapon.  So, we left, we can take a hint.

Anyhoo, a guy we had worked with called us and said they were "decommissioning" a large number of large, dangerous, expensive nuclear weapons, all of which were controlled by computers, which were no longer needed.  He said we could pick up some serious computational power for pennies on the dollar.  We are always in the market for a deal, so we jumped on the opportunity.

They are not your standard PC, and there is a steep learning curve to the program architecture, and the hardware associations, but it came with a video, and a manual, so we should be OK.  Here is a picture of the cover.

Will it never end?

As we drove to work this morning, the air in the car never warmed enough to be comfortable, wisps of snow chased us down the freeway, swirling playfully around the car. The thermometer read 18 degrees.  That was almost as warm as it was going to get, it was going to be colder tomorrow, and the rest of the week was already ruined by bitter, arctic cold, and predicted, impending, paralyzing snow.   The Polar Vortex was back.

+Luna LaBlue, owner of the incomparable my lowercase life blog commented on one of these endless, posts whining about the unfairness of this terrible, awful winter, that she was learning to adjust, and had taken the approach of relative discomfort.  She looked at temperatures that used to seem very cold, as comparatively mild, and weather that once seemed life threatening as almost bearable.  We are taking a different approach, and have several plans to combat this latest invasive species, the arctic winter, from destroying the American Way of Life.

The first, and most likely to succeed, plan is complex and will require some cooperation from the power companies in the Northern States, Canada, and the United Nations.   Everybody knows about all the windmills dotting the landscape across the Northern part of our country.  Normally, they use the wind that sweeps across the plains to generate electricity.  This plan involves reversing the flow of electricity and turning the faces north, using all of these windmills as giant fans to push the Polar Vortex back to Canada, from whence it sprang.  This will have the added benefit, if Doctor Dawg's calculations are correct, of generating drenching, much needed rain across the Southwest, and reducing the drought that has been so damaging.

Since it is so difficult reaching all of the parties needed to bring that project to fruition, we have begun a more metaphysical, (maybe supernatural) guerilla campaign.  Placing the blame squarely on the local weather people, mostly that Mike Davis guy from the local CBS affiliate (WBNS 10tv) because that is the station we watch the most, for creating the news, in this case the weather news, by prediction.  We have begun a noisy crusade of boycotting all of the sponsors of the local news programs.  Writing letters, sending emails, making phone calls, all demanding that they make the weather people predict nice, comfortable conditions, and loudly proclaiming my disdain for any company that would support such an awful, deplorable week.

Of course, this could backfire, since many of the local companies are places we shop, and a boycott wouldn't carry much weight if everybody saw us patronizing the places we threatened.   But, Doctor Dawg, and I have figured a way around this, until we win the war.  When things get improve we don't expect a lot of thanks, or praise, or free food, just knowing we made life better for everybody, and temperatures above freezing will be enough for us.

Everybody needs a back up plan.

It was quite an event when the first star wars movie hit theaters, way back in 1977.  People were thrilled with the special effects, and the drama.  It was a smash hit, with clearly defined, easily identified heroes, outnumbered, out gunned, out space shipped by despicable, power mad villains.

An epic battle ended the movie, when a small force of rebel fighters struggling against astronomical odds managed to find an uncovered, minute exhaust vent.  It seemed desperate, and the heroes were falling like snow in a polar vortex.

However, one pilot, who received his training when he used "to bullseye womp rats," on his home planet of Tatooine.  It really did not look promising at this point.  People wanted to leave the theater, it was almost impossible to believe this wet behind the ears kid, who used to bullseye womp rats, was going to blow up a battle ship the size of a planet!

But, something wonderful happened.  Using an ancient practice of unbelievable power and proportion he managed to drop a couple of photon torpedoes, (wait, that might be Star Trek, let me check my facts here real quick, it was proton torpedoes), proton torpedoes right down that exhaust port, blowing up the Death Star, and winning fame, fortune, cash, and the friendship of a Princess, and a callous, crusty, but lovable smuggler and his huge hairy friend.

Act Now, and we will throw in the "Jabba the Hutt,
Cooking for Big Guys"  you only pay the additional
shipping and handling.

Now, for the first time you can use this power to improve your life.  That's right friends for a limited time we are offering a step by step guide to manipulate the power of the universe to improve your measly life.

With this book you will learn to make people think they are looking for some other droids, not yours.   Impress your friends by holding your large, heavy X-wing fighter aloft for several minutes.

The first 500 orders will also receive the Official Obi Wan Kanobe Flashlight Pen / Light Saber.  Perfect for jotting down a quick note, finding your sandwich in a power outage or cutting off the arm of an intergalactic criminal, wanted in seven systems!!!  You only pay the additional shipping and handling.

You had better acti quickly,supplies are limited.

Not for angry people, people whose mothers have been taken by sand people, or people who are fond of the dark side.  Not responsible for any terrible, disfiguring accidents caused by uncontrolled rage, or terrible battles in a fiery droid manufacturing facility.

March Insanity.

Here at Life Explained we are big, big sports fans.  We enjoy the thrill of competition, the noble pursuit of victory, the never ending chase of perfection.  And, we enjoy it from our couches and recliners, with a big plate of nachos, and a couple of beers.  We were particularly excited for this years cold, and flu season.  It is a wide open race to the top seed in the cold and flu playoffs!

The last couple of seasons there was a clear favorite to win the cold and flu championship.  A lead pipe lock to the cold and flu title.  Not this year, it is a whole new game.  Sure, there are a couple of heavy hitters that look like they could go all the way.  But, it could be the year of the underdog.

The bird flu (H5N1, for those of you with a score card) is looking pretty tough, but what do you expect from a group of creatures that figured out how to fly thousands of years ago.  You know they are always going to come up with a contender.  It is always a safe bet.


But, the swine flu (H1N1, if you are thinking of looking at the latest line from Vegas) is making a late season run, too.  Trust me, pigs really know how to generate some germy stuff, including virus'.  Just grab yourself a BLT, and check out the nearest pig pen.  They are, at the very least, unsanitary, and probably worse, filthy, (as a side note, my mother always said my room at home was the worst looking pig sty she had ever seen, when pressed for details she assured me it was a very complicated grading process, one I would never understand).  It is obvious hygiene means little to the average swine.

Anyway, it is a very exciting season, and we have started a pool.  Anybody can play, just send your completed bracket and $5.00 to us at;

The Top Secret Life Explained Headquarters,
****************
**********. ** *****
(address redacted)

 If you win we will send you the money, we promise, you can trust us.

Clash Of Clans, Pardon me sir, would you have any spare ELIXIR?

At the urging of my son I downloaded and started playing "Clash of Clans," a game by Supercell.  Actually, we started playing long ago, we had started our own clan, it was only the two of us at the time.  He downloaded it recently and started playing again and our clan had ballooned to the maximum of 50 members.  Weird, but cool.  After some amount of browbeating, and endless harassment, I decided to give it another go.

It is a game of resource harvesting and allocation, with the opportunity to raid the members of other clans, destroy their stuff, and steal their things.  When starting you need to build mines for elixir and gold, and a storage facility for both.  Then you need to build defenses, barracks to train troops, and administrative offices, like the clan tower and town hall.  All in the name of progress.  Kind of like life, you know.

Of course, no game is complete without some metric to measure progress.  In this game they are called trophies, but, they are not that important, they get a player higher in the rankings of a clan, but they bring bigger raiders, and more difficult challenges, so many people say you should stay away from amassing too many, which is not a problem for me, but it makes a great excuse when my sons ridicule my paltry rankings.

After establishing your base it becomes a nonstop march towards upgrades.  Constantly making things better, the troops more accomplished and the defenses more robust.  But the real push is making the mines more productive, and the storage vessels more voluminous.  It all comes down to hording those two precious commodities, gold and elixir.

However, it is elixir that really drives the game.  After a while you become a junkie for the stuff, needing it more and more to upgrade so many things, but mostly to train your troops.  You need to troops to protect your elixir (though, through an odd design decision in the game, your troops can not defend your base, only the troops your clan mates are willing to give you can provide security) and to go get more trophies, gold and ELIXIR.   Elixir is the driving force, though.  It is an all consuming need, and you take wild chances just to get your hands on some.  You may raid a fortress you know you can't defeat because they have a lot of elixir stored in a place convenient for looting.  Sure, you will lose some archers, and barbarians, but think of the rewards, ELIXIR!  Sweet glorious ambrosia.

"Press here to Grovel."

It is probably a good thing there is not a "beg shamelessly for elixir" option in any of the menus, or, that I have not found it yet, because who knows how low a middle aged man would stoop for some of that purple red liquid heaven, ELIXIR.

But, the game is fun, and if you have hours everyday to kill you should check it out.  If you play I can send you a few troops, and would be happy to share the gold a bit, but, don't ask for any elixir, there is none to spare.

Something Wonderful This Way Comes.

All right, here is the scoop from last night.  Nebraska beat Penn State 80 to 67, to avenge a loss earlier in the season.  They never trailed in the game, and a quick check with the Life Explained statistician reveals that against Michigan State the last time they trailed at Michigan State was 18 to 20 with 6:06 left in the first half.  So it has been 66 minutes and 6 seconds since the Cornhuskers have trailed in a game.  That is pretty impressive, for any team.

Their conference record in seven wins and six losses, and their record in Lincoln is twelve and one.  Pretty good for a team that was supposed to finish near the bottom of the conference, and early in the league schedule some felt this might be a little too generous.

But, Coach Miles, Terran Petteway, Walter Pitchford, Shavon Shields, Ray Gallegos, the rest of the team, and I never lost hope.  We knew if we kept working hard, and when I say we, I mean them, I offer all of the emotional, and psychological support I can from 1,000 miles away, and through the medium of television, (which is not really a duplex communication medium, you know?), and I think that has helped quite a bit.

"I will meet you for a serving of nachos in the Huntington
Club level, they are always the best there, Coach."

I did email Coach Miles and told him he was doing a great job, and how much fun it was to watch his teams play, and that was before the Michigan State win, so I kind of take partial credit for the win.  He replied to my email thanking me for the support and hoping we could get together next time they were in Columbus, a friendly little meeting, just the coaches, the team, and all of the fans in attendance for the game that night.  I hope we don't have any plans.

Anyway, enough of my personal glory.

Coach Tim Miles, and his team have made this the most exciting basketball season I can remember.  For that we should all thank him.  He has started something amazing, and it is only the beginning.

Thank you, Coach Miles, and in the oh so appropriate words of Bob Dylan,

"May your hands always be busy,
May your feet always be swift,
May you have a strong foundation,
When the winds of changes shift,
May your heart always be joyful,
May your song always be sung,
And may you stay forever young"

Dylan always said best, didn't he?

A funny thing happened on the way to spring training.

Growing up in Nebraska provides an incentive to become a college football fan.  The Cornhuskers are normally pretty good, and win enough to keep most people happy.  It provides a certain herd like solidarity, and makes for good conversation.  However, at some point, the details are foggy with the passing time, college basketball became my favorite sport.

Basketball games are frenetic, passionate, fluid affairs.  They are an art form unique to sports were height and strength are rewarded, but so are quickness, speed and elusiveness.  Each game is a drama, complete with heroes (your team), villains (the other team) and corrupt, indifferent administrators (the referees).  That was just a joke, the referees do a fine job, when my team wins.  Each season is a chase to end, teams trying to win enough games to get a good spot in the conference tournament, and a chance to play for the National Championship in the NCAA tourney.

The NCAA tournament is a season of it's own.  A single elimination meat grinder that chews up dreams and leaves them on basketball courts in places like Dayton, Lexington, Palo Alto, or Syracuse.  Out of 68 one will go home champions and the rest will take their place in the shadows.  It is the pinnacle of sports entertainment, it is my fantastic.

But, as a Nebraska fan it was more a show of support to watch a game, maybe a little punishment that you took with a good natured smile as you thought "well, at least we were only down by eight at halftime."  Even though we got trounced.  But, they were Huskers, so you loved them.

Then something strange happened, Nebraska hired this guy to coach the team.  He was exuberant, and charming, and he had such a youthful appearance and enthusiasm that it seemed like they may have picked the biggest smile from the student section and made him the coach.  But, there was something about him, something promising, it came through during interviews, and in the way he carried himself.  Even my wife said he was going to do good things.

Last year, Coach Miles had a rough year, his players were mostly recruits from the previous staff, and he did well, and never lost his composure.  His exuberance was contagious, and his charm was undeniable, and he looked like he enjoyed what he was doing, and he seemed to love the players.  He always seemed to say the right thing, in a way that made you like him more.

This year, his teams started winning, beating teams named Indiana, Ohio State, even Michigan State, in East Lansing, and when they play it is with a manic, wonderful joy, that is fun to watch, because it looks like they are having fun on the court.  They jump into passing lanes, and back again with a quickness that is alarming, they shoot, and rebound, and move, and win.  And, through the winning Coach Miles is as pleasant and charming.

He has recruits who are winning now, and there are some, waiting on the bench, and will be on the court next year, and his team is only going to get better.  Tonight Penn State comes to Lincoln and I will be watching on the Big Ten Network, and Nebraska will try to avenge a loss from earlier this year.  My advice to all right minded people out there, start watching, and cheering, and enjoying the show, order your Nebrasketball shirts, and hats, it is going to get better.  Bob Dylan said it best.

"Come along with me, babe, I wish you would,
You know what I'm saying, it's all good."

Dylan wouldn't lie.

Thank you, Coach Miles, it is nice to be able to say Go Big Red in February.

Well Being, At Least Better Being,

As if there was not enough to worry about all ready, giant, invasive slugs, venomous, "face sized" spiders, and air travel, (all of which I have warned you, repeatedly about) now there is a new threat to mankind, at least the "man" part of mankind.  According to James O'Neil, a professor at the University of Connecticut, "men are conflicted, ambivalent."  I had no idea, now it is clear, though, I look around here, at the Top Secret Life Explained headquarters and all of the men have that haunted look of conflict and ambivalence.

Apparently, we are so "conflicted and ambivalent" that according to David Crary of the Associated Press, Dr. O'Neil writes extensively "on men's struggles over gender roles."  Dammit, this could be bad.

Our conflict and ambivalence over gender roles has almost certainly caused the strife and turmoil in the nations capitol, how can we expect congress persons to function under the weight of "being socialized to meet the old stereotypes."  When will they be able to find the "alternative models of masculinity" for which they yearn?  It has driven the world mad, I tell you.

How do we find our way out of this morass, do we need a hero, someone to ride in on a pale horse, or a custom built, extravagantly noisy motorcycle to save the day.  No, what we need, according to Dr. O'Neil, is "an expansion of psychological support for men wrestling with changing expectations."  Indeed, Dr. O'Neil, that is exactly what we need.  Because it is clear the "changing expectations" have us in the "stranglehold, submission lock of doom."


But, we here at Life Explained are here to provide that support, and a road map to emotional stability, in several installments, for free (hey it beats trying to think up something new everyday).  Today, we start with "Heroes, wow, that's cool!"

A smoky (here, we are going to use dry ice to create the effect, we all know the dangers of second hand smoke, and that would be irresponsible) conference room in Geneva, one person sitting on the "right" side of the table, a toothpick (I recommend Gum brand floss picks, gingivitis stalks the great and small alike, available at most fine grocery stores) hanging arrogantly from his/her mouth, dark aviator sunglasses, perched defiantly on the crest of the nose, covering the eyes with the mirrored glass of strength and resolve.

A man walks in and sits down, looking hopefully at our hero.

The toothpick moves slowly, purposefully from side to side, and after a few minutes that stretch almost to eternity, the larger than life person of indeterminate gender, our hero, President/Prime Minister/Chancellor (insert your favorite world leader here) takes the toothpick in hand and points it at the person, saying softly, yet forcefully, "enough with the anti-gay crap, Vladmir, and for God's sake put a shirt on.  We're finished here."

Adaptability is the key, we can be comfortable with almost anything, it just takes a little work, a small amount of tolerance, and the appropriate amount of clothing.

Please tune in tomorrow, when we discuss the "altered dynamics of subordinate, or why no one ever listens to me at work."

Saint Valentine's Day

As we approach the confectioners, to purchase chocolate covered offerings, the florists to buy flowers, and the stationary store to pick out the appropriately affectionate card for our chosen one, let us not forget the man responsible for all of the love, joy, and romance of the day.

An artist interpretation.
Not the real Saint Valentine.

Let me introduce, Saint Valentine.  A Roman priest from the 3rd century, during the time of Claudius the II (Roman, for Junior) who thought the best soldiers were single men (apparently, Claudius II (Roman for I + I) was never married, if you catch my drift), and banned the marriage of all "young people."  Young was Roman for "able to shove a spear all the way through one of our enemies."  

Valentine, the priest, did not care for this mandate and performed many ceremonies, marrying young people without concern for the silly rules of Claudius II (Roman for III - I).*

Here is where the romantic bit came in, Claudius II (Roman for almost as good as I,but a lot cheaper) for was so moved by this brave, and noble gesture that he ended the siege of the Balkans, freed the slaves and granted Carthage sovereignty.

No, he didn't really do that, Roman emperors were not normally very tolerant of disobedience.  Preferring the blind loyalty that comes with being in charge of the a hideously large empire that even now, hundreds of years later it still is covered in scholarly research, popular art and web logs.  Claudius II (Roman for, "wow, that was kind of overkill) had him beaten, stoned and decapitated. 

Well, at least they are better than Peeps.

Which is why we celebrate Saint Valentine's day, with chocolate, flowers, dinners, dancing, romance and love.  Yeah, I know, it doesn't make any sense to me either.

Anyway, here is the perfect opportunity to mention my wife.  A woman of infinite patience, who has learned to suffer foolishness gladly over the years, and who saved me from an early and bad end, though sometimes I am sure she wonders why she did that.  Thank you, for everything, Happy Valentines Day!

* Yes, I know there are other beliefs about the origin of this day, but it is my blog, after all.

The further misadventures of genius.

Sometimes it is very difficult to work with geniuses.  Two weeks ago, on Thursday, Doctor Dawg took an old Laser Jet 4200 XLT printer, added a hot glue gun, with a banana clip full of crayons, to the toner cartridge, a microwave oven to the fuser panel, and a 60 cc chainsaw motor to the duplexer.  He used a Commodore 64 liberated from the local thrift store for $1.99, as the control module and voila we had our very own three dimensional printer.   

It was a lot of fun, people were emailing pictures, and bam Dr. Dawg would have a three dimensional version in seconds.  The Eiffel Tower, an elephant, a cute little mouse using a four leaf clover to hide from a menacing, snarling cat, it was amazing what he could produce.  Soon, we had a few beers and were throwing around all sorts of crazy ideas.

Bob, from engineering, ran over and got his new scanner, a monstrous, data crunching, digitizing machine, and we hardwired it into the Commodore, and scanned a picture of a meatball sub, in less than a minute we had a meatball sub, with marinara.  It was cold, but we began brainstorming about the best way to use the microwave during, and after the printing process.  Nobody was too keen on carrying the stove in there and trying to run 220 volts through the whole machine, we had learned our lesson when we tried to speed up the rotation of the earth to make the weekend arrive earlier.  Man, was that a bad idea.

It was then that things started going bad.  Bob, from customer service, (Bob is always kind of a trouble maker, ask anyone) decided to scan his hand, and before you could say, “unplug that stupid thing” a disembodied replica of Bob’s hand was scurrying across Doctor Dawg’s work table.  Not only was it knocking over plates of chili cheese fries, spilling beers, and just being kind of creepy in general, but it was fuzzy looking and not the right color at all.

Doctor Dawg said he could fix the tone and image sharpness with a simple adjustment of the contrast and saturation settings in the printer drivers.  It would have made it more accurate in complexion, but not any less weird.

Friday went by without incident, but over the weekend the hand had managed to hook the entire contraption up to the DVR in the break room.  On Monday the whole building was overrun with characters from movies and television, which wasn’t nearly as fun as you might hope, or nearly as awful as you might fear.

Pirates were swinging from the ceiling joists using ropes produced from ingeniously twined computer cables and extension cords, space men, in space suits, rolling around on the floor pretending they were in zero gravity, soldiers, crouching behind the overturned table in the kitchen, shouting things like “cover me while I make a break for the cappuccino machine.  Would anybody like a French vanilla?”  And then sprinting across the room, rolling to a stop and springing to their feet right in front of the coffee dispenser.

At first it was a real nuisance, but it didn't take long to become attached to all of those "people," acting out their little dramas.  Lunch time was so much more enjoyable, watching the cast of "Jesus Christ, Superstar," sing their way through the visit to Caiaphas, or the crew from "Glengarry Glen Ross" listen to Alec Baldwin lecture them on the value of persistence.  He really cleaned it up when the ladies were eating, and it still sounded good.

However, when payday came around and we realized how much it was going to cost to keep all of these additional people we had to let them go.  Guess who pulled that gig.   It was kind of sad, too, because I was really starting to enjoy having all those cavemen around, they were so funny.

Let's hope they wait awhile.

Last night the sky was cloudless, and when I left for work this morning it was still dark, really dark.  The sky was an inky black blue, with thousands of little sparkles flickering everywhere.  If you looked carefully you could almost see the possibilities, but you had to look closely, and kind of quickly, because it was freezing.

There must have been millions of little lights, flashing their lovely little Morse Code messages.  "Hey, you are not alone."  At least I think that is what they were saying, it was too cold to write it down.  "dot, dot, dash, dash, dot."  And my Morse Code decryption skills were never that good, but you are free to try it tonight, and let me know if they are saying something else.  If it is "we are coming to destroy your planet, puny, helpless Earthlings" you don't need to tell me, I would just as soon not know.

But, what if they do come, just drop in to pay a visit, what then?  What will they see?  Honestly, if they travel across the terrible, immense vacuum of space and they show up here what would they think of this place?

"Greetings, good people of Earth, we come in peace."  Will be the message from the heavens.

"Great, welcome to our planet.  Let's set down and talk, as soon as we finish wiping these semi evolved, godless fools from the face of the Earth.  Then we can have a civilized discussion."

Moving on.

"Fantastic, we are so glad you are here.  And we would love to chat with you, as soon as we decide who we should allow into our country, and who we should kick the hell out.  Say, do you have the technology to build a very long fence?"

Meanwhile.

"Oh, it is so nice to see you, we will get together right after we take care of a few small problems involving infidels, and heretics.  You aren't an infidel, are you?"

And, more

"Hey, it is great to see you.  If you would let us finish marginalizing anybody who is different, and imprisoning those whose views are counter to what we accept as normal we can exchange ideas from our two great cultures, and both benefit from this most fortunate experience, I am sure you can learn so much from us.  Aren't you lucky?"

"Uh, thanks, but no."  Will be the next message from the heavens as the aliens throw their space ship in reverse and make haste away from our unfortunate little planet.

"By the way, we are going to bill you for the time and gasoline it took to this backward little planet.  We take most major credit cards, and cash, but don't even think about writing a check."
 Will be the last thing we hear from them until we get the invoice.

I am taking a collection to pay our bill to the aliens, don't hesitate to send a small donation, anything will help.

Technology, a mixed blessing.

Since we, here at Life Explained, are sick of this awful winter, and the increasingly invasive, and oppressive Polar Vortex we are going to bring you news from the Southern Hemisphere, where gorgeous, beautiful summer warmth is the flavor of the day.

Using technology in unique ways to save lives, and avoid disfiguring injury is always a noble pursuit.  But, the government researchers in Western Australia have come up with a very unique idea to blend new ideas with the threat from ancient creatures.

Fitting more than 300 sharks with transmitters that will send "tweets" when they approach a beach.  This message will contain information needed to assess the threat including the shark's size, breed, and approximate location.  Technology is an amazing thing, and when information can be used to add safety to everyday living that can only be considered a plus.

Unfortunately, technology can be a double edged sword, and soon the sharks had hacked into their transmitters and were using them to tweet to each other.  "@HammerheadSue, #GreatBuffet off New South Wales, Bring ur appetite."  And, the swimmers were disappearing by the dozens.

But, humans know a little about technology, and began subscribing to the twitter feeds of these noble creatures.  There would be drove of spectators standing on the beach watching the sharks swim around the empty waters, looking longingly at all of the tasty morsels waiting patiently on the shore.

It did not take long before the sharks understood the true utility of this equipment.  Most notably, luring innocent, unsuspecting beach goers in to the water.  "#FreeFosters (Australian for beer) 25 meters from shore," or, "#machoguy help, beautiful woman drowning, come quick."  People are powerless to resist these sorts of gambits, and were being eaten as fast as they could look at their smart phones.

Soon, sharks were starting to pack on the pounds, and several of them had to start taking medicine to reduce their cholesterol and blood pressure.  Sometimes, the benefits of technology can be a boon, sometimes it is a curse.

But, you don't become an apex predator by being stupid.  Sharks started using the transmitters to order green leafy salads and vegetable trays, with a light vinaigrette, some of them are have opened Amazon
accounts and are receiving work out videos, and diet cookbooks.

This has caused an unexpected explosion in the Australian economy, and countries all over the world are rushing internet capable devices to top level predators, hoping for a similar surge.  You might want to remember this next time you are camping and get a text message asking you to bring a bottle of water into the bushes for "#wearytraveler."

Tune in tomorrow when we will discuss the hazards using venomous snakes to process your tax returns, sure they work cheap, but is the angry disposition, and ill temper worth the savings.  It is if you are lucky enough to be audited.

Greco Roman Shopping.

This is my one of my favorite times of year.  The changing of the season, not neccesarily outside, where the Polar Vortex has an iron grip on this part of the country.  No, it is when they start stocking cargo shorts, swim suits and flip flops on the store shelves.  

But, the best part of this is how the extra jeans, insulated under garments, jackets, and boots go on sale, sometimes deeply discounted.   Sure, the selection can be limited, and by fashion standards the styles can be a little dated, but so am I.  And, we (my wife and I) think saving money is always fashionable.  

Of course, next winter, when the snow flies and the temperature drops there is always the possibility that I will have and accident, say I slip on the ice walking across the parking lot at the senior center, on my way to the bingo championship quarter finals, and in the ambulance when they cut the leg off my pants to examine my damaged knee, there will be some snickering among the EMTs about insulated under pants I am wearing that are "so last year."  I could live with that.  The real key is to carry the reciept with you always, so in these situations you can say, "but look how much I saved.  And, could I have a shot of bourbon with that pain killer, just to top it off, a little, you know?"

Plus, there is always the thrill of the hunt while shopping the clearance racks.  When you wrestle that stocking hat (75% off) from that jack booted woman with the expensive purse, talking on her smart phone, you will know you are truly alive, unless she kills you, which is always a possibility.   But, these are the chances you take.

Those daring young people.

It is that time again, time to take the patriotism and nationalistic fervor out of the closet, run the lint roller over the exterior, brush it down, (we recommend using the Kent Handcrafted Clothes Brush, Black Bristle, on sale for $62.04 with free shipping right now), shake it a little, decide that it is too far gone for such a minor, cosmetic fix and rush them over the dry cleaner, for a good refreshing, then decide to run out and buy a new set.  Why wait, that is all we are saying, you work hard, you deserve a few nice things, after all you do for everybody who can begrudge a new...  Oops, sorry about that.

Anyway, it is time to show your pride, your sense of community, your ability to scream incoherently at the TV while watching sports you don't really understand, and haven't even thought about for roughly four years. That's right, the Winter Olympics have arrived.

But, we are here to help you wade through the confusion, we are here to take your hand and walk you gently down the Ice Covered Path to Winter Olympic Gold Medal Hysteria.

First, let's cover the city hosting the games this year.  It is a the largest resort city in Russia, with a population of 343,334.  Which is an amazing feat to have that many people and be able to express it using only 2 digits, there are few cities in the world that can match that sort of exorbitant simplicity, and it may have given them the upper hand when wooing the Olympic organizers.  

It is located on the Black Sea, named after the beautiful, tranquil, blue waters...  Well, we are not sure why it is called the Black Sea, but we are pretty sure that is the name.  Really, no one cares where the games are taking place anyway.  On to the games.

Let's start with the bob sled.  A team of "sledders" start at the top a step, ice covered course.  Lined up by their sled, and as soon as they hear a gunshot they take off running for all they are worth (kind of a natural reaction, if you ask us) pushing their sled, until it is almost ready to drop out of sight over the cliff, when they jump in, holding on for dear life, their screams frozen in their throat by the unbelievable g-force, and fly down the side of the mountain, swooshing wildly around hair pin corners, bouncing from side to side, as the sled, using the forces of inertia, and good sense, tries to escape the insanity by fleeing the course over the side.  But, the sledders have been through this before and using all of their skill and their ability to bargain with a "Higher Power" keep the frightened equipment en route all the way to the bottom, where they receive a hero's welcome, a warm embrace and a powerful sedative, on their way back to the asylum.  Wow, what a ride.

Now, let's move on the Luge.  It is exactly the same as the above, but it is a single rider, on a sled, going feet first, and hoping desperately that he does not suffer compound fractures to both legs before he gets to the bottom, it seems a little crazy.  

Next up on our list of fun filled winter activities; Skeleton, which is like a smaller Luge sled, kind of like a plastic sheet, and hurtle, suicidally down the same course, as the forces of gravity and good sense squeeze their eyes shut as the scenery, and the few, brief last minutes of life flash by, a disaster movie on ice.

We have heard the next big thing in winter sports is tying yourself to a boulder and rolling down a mountain, whoever tears down the most trees will win.  It will be extreme.  Go (please insert your country here)!

More Trouble, I'm Afraid

In a very disturbing development, covered by Phys.org, it has been discovered that spiders can hunt in packs, and are cooperative while hunting and feeding.  Please see below.

Can Things Get Any Worse from Phys.org

They live in groups of "80 or more" and "share resources" during mealtimes.  Exactly what resources are we talking about here?

"Hey, Ollie, pass me the bordeaux, would you?"

"No, I am keeping it for later."

"You know mom said we were supposed to share resources?"

"Oh, OK."

And what is even more troubling "unrelated individuals frequently join the the nest and 'forage' with the group."  Soon, we will be overrun with armies of unrelated spiders, hunting in packs, like jackals.  Ignoring convention, and law enforcement, taking what they want, destroying what they don't.

With that much cooperation it is only a matter of time before some poor person finds himself wrapped in a spider web straight jacket while a gang of arachnids sits around a card table, drinking bourbon, smoking cigars, and playing black jack for the juiciest bits.

"Dangit, I always get stuck with the forearms."

It is probably a good thing this never-ending winter has settled in, I am sure it will take them a while to figure out how to start a fire, and mass produce winter clothing, that is warm, yet light and flexible enough to hunt in.  But, when they do, I will be here to let you know about it.

Excuse me, sir, would you happen to know what year this is?

For the last several weeks I have been thinking about New Year.  Not the traditional Western New Year, with all of the ball dropping, (I remember watching them "drop" the ball for the first time, it was dreadfully disappointing, I thought they were "dropping" something, it should be called "delicately lowering the ball") champagne toasting, parade watching run of the mill routines.  Instead, the Lunar New Year, celebrated by the Chinese has been on my mind.

These are people not really known for their ability to throw a party.  Centuries of creative innovation, untrammeled industriousness, a work ethic matched only by the social insects, plus they build a pretty nice wall.  But, if you were to think of great places to celebrate, it probably would not include China.  

When it comes to this one though, they do it right.  It is a three day celebration, including food, family and tradition.  Ancient beliefs add mystical properties, and that alone is enough to make it wonderful.  Ritual cleaning and ceremonial food provide the "out with the old and in with the new" air to these joyous festivities.  They throw evil spirits from the house and welcome good fortune, happiness and wealth.  

In my job I am, occasionally, fortunate enough to communicate with people from all over the world.  And one year a woman from China emailed me wishing me a "Happy Year of the Rat."  It was a very nice gesture, but, after that I was hooked.  There is something so appealing about the symbolism involved in naming years like that.  

We need to do something like that here.  We need to be a little less strident about our own infallibility, we need to embrace the possibilities, accept the unknown, and the comfort we can find in remembering that there are things we don't need to understand, or explain. Remember the words of George Bernard Shaw, "Beware of false knowledge, it is more dangerous than ignorance."  There is a lot we can learn in unexpected places, if we are willing.  So, have a Happy Year of the Horse.

"It is Time to Face Reality."

"Hey, do you mind if we dance with your dates?"

With this latest snow storm I am afraid we have gone beyond mere, average, mortal winter, and we are now forced to face some sort of super villain winter, it is like the Joker of winters.  This is not winter, the season, this is winter, the invasion.  We are no longer surviving winter, we are being beaten into submission by winter.   This is almost historically bad, Winter, the Terrible.

"Oh, my, what lovely weather we are having,
you, ungrateful puny humans."

There are those who will say, "oh, winters used to be a lot worse than this.  I remember the winters of my childhood, and this is pretty nice, by comparison."  But, what those people are experiencing is called "Confabulation" which is a "memory disturbance" mostly the fabrication, or distortion of memories.   Either that, or they are talking about the extinction event after the comet smashed into the Earth, and the dust clouds covered the sun, and the temperature plummeted, and the dinosaurs were removed from the equation.  But, taking a quick glance at their birth date on their Medicare cards will let you know whether they are "crazy," or just really old.

It is time we face the facts, winter is here to stay.  And that is OK, as long as you are prepared, and that is what we are going to help you with today.  Remember to wear layers, layers of clothes, at least 4, but when you hit 15 you have probably gone too far, have someone help you remove a couple, as you are probably immobile by now.  Hats, and gloves are a must, the hat should go on the head and the gloves in your pockets, so you can still change songs on your phone, grab your coffee, snack on your donut (nobody wants glove lint on their doughnut, what are we animals?), and other critically important driving tasks.

In situations like these, you will see many people whose cars have become stuck, in snow banks, ditches, medians, the backs of other cars, repossession trucks, the hazards are countless in these conditions.  Remember, these are people, like you (your brothers and sisters in the family of man), who, by the whim of cruel coincidence, and through no fault of their own, have become ensnared in the harsh entanglements of winter.  You have an obligation, a duty, a responsibility to these people, so slow down as you drive past, in the warmth and comfort of your car, and try to look distressed.  Glance at your watch, as though you are in a big hurry.  Try not to make eye contact, it would be very unkind to get their hopes up, suckers, anyway.

When you get to work, make sure to grab the parking spot that is closest to the door, it is probably icy, and old Mildred has a walker which gives her a little extra stability.  And Bob, from accounting always wears those compression socks for his phlebitis, and, deep vein thrombosis, and, they look pretty warm.  Hey, it ain't your fault your healthy.

Now you are prepared to face the day, bitter cold beyond belief, and get to work, and into the building.  Tomorrow we cover getting home in the exciting conclusion, "Reaching Escape Velocity," or "How to Act Like You Have Accomplished Something."

Monday, the Day of Joy.

Yesterday was the Ground Hog Day, and the Super Bowl.  How are we supposed to survive that much intensity in one day.  Several people in Ohio were rushed to the emergency room because of the excitement.  Of course, the real cause for concern, and anxiety, and the resulting heart palpitations, and stress related ailments that had Ohio EMTs running without break, was the fact that Puxsatawney Phil claimed there would be 10 more weeks of winter, and Buckeye Chuck (the lesser known, but equally Marmot Rodent furry meteorologist from Ohio) said there was going to be an early spring.

In Ohio it is very bad form to malign anything Buckeye, (particularly the peanut butter filled chocolate confections that are designed and produced to look exactly like buckeyes, but are especially delicious, unlike the real buckeye nut which is inedible, and used mostly for jewelry) and everybody wants winter to end.  And, after the Polar Vortex has invaded twice, leaving a trail of frigid, icy destruction, winter is even less welcome.  But, Puxsatawney Phil is the original, he was even in a movie, and has had years to refine he weather predicting skills.  Nobody wants to bet against that kind of legacy.

Obviously, the only antidote for this kind of dilemma is a hard fought, close football game that goes right to the end and could be won by either team.  An epic struggle between equally matched opponents, decided by the skill, or athletic ability, or coaching wisdom of one team in the final seconds.  A game both teams, winner and loser, walk away from with pride...

Oops, that bowl was not very "super" at all.

Well, at least the weekend is over, and we can all get back to work, and forget all of the troubles that  plague our time off.  Now, we don't have to worry about all of that decision making, free will, now we can just take it easy and let someone else do all of the thinking for us.

Thank God, for Monday!

It was nice while it lasted.

Recently we found a new portal to a different dimension.  It was opened, completely by accident, when the receptionist, here at Life Explained, pressed the button to open the front door, (after he spoke with the person through the intercom, it was just an employee who forgot her security card) which is a button on his computer keyboard, and posted a status update on Facebook, which was a copy of tweet he read, while answering his smart phone, which was plugged in to his computer, charging and updating, all at the same time.  It seems so much duplex communication created a rift in the delicate fabric of reality.

It was pretty cool, but no one was sure what to do, a huge swirling opening in the reception area.  We all stood around, looking at this thing, trying to make a decision.  Should somebody walk through, stick their hand through, maybe a trash can, or that annoying person from the legal department, I think his name is Bob.  

Bob, from sales, threw his business card into the "opening" and in seconds his phone rang, and someone from other dimension ordered two hundred thousand units of the most expensive books in stock, and added a huge gratuity, just to be nice.  There was a problem with an inter dimensional line of credit, but, for that kind of order, our accounting people can be pretty creative.

As Bob, from accounting,  was setting up the inter-dimensional wire of funds, he got an email offering him a job, doubling his salary, setting up a network for the "people" on "the Other Side" of the portal.  It seems they had a lot of trouble finding decent consumer convenience items, and what they could find were overpriced, and shoddily constructed.

A scream of delight signaled, sent people rushing to the R&D department where the intern was dancing around, a smile of joy on her face, talking excitedly about the text message from "the Other Side," offering to buy her latest painting.  The offer was so generous she could actually quit, and go to an art and design college of some renown. 

Soon, people were scrambling to get close enough to toss a card, a post it note, cocktail napkin,

Doberman Setter

anything that would hold a hastily concocted, quickly scribbled business proposal, an offer of service,  or a fantastically embellished resume.

Before long people were pushing, shoving, kicking, biting, anything to get close enough to toss their hopes into the spiraling, unusual wishing well.  It got so bad we had to post a security guard.

Sadly, when Bob, from building started the microwave (to warm his hollandaise sauce) and the toaster oven (to Benedict his eggs, if that is proper verb), he threw the breaker, and when he went to reset it, he accidentally shut off the power to the whole building.

The vortex shut down, without a sound.  All of the notes were gone, though, and occasionally someone will get a phone call, or email, from "the Other Side," just saying hello.