I am announcing my intention to announce my candidacy, at some point, anyway.

Look, there is not a lot of activity on the ol' Presidential Campaign trail.  This has really dampened spirits around Life Explained.  With both parties searching for a candidate there should be mounting tension, bitter sniping, and general blame and immature, petty finger pointing.  Enough for even the most jaded observer.  Things are sadly lacking.  Sadly.

Except for one fellow, one lone, brave Texan, the field is barren.  And, I don't want to alarm anybody here, but I read where Ted Cruz accused Ted Cruz of being a liberal, tax and spend, tree hugging, pantie waist.  Naturally, Ted Cruz fired right back, defending his record on tax cuts, and the use of government shutdown as a cost saving measure, even going so far as to challenge Ted Cruz to an a series of televised debates.  It seems politicians are born to this behavior.

Anybody who has been paying attention could tell you the American Political landscape is more divided and disastrous than ever.  There is no safe haven for candidates anymore.  Party affiliation means nothing.  Factions have become the battleground in what is rapidly becoming a guerilla war for presidency.

In many ways presidential campaigns are the ultimate explanation of the human experience.  It starts nobly enough.  A person who wants to help, and is willing to sacrifice so much in an effort to guide the country he loves.  What could be more pure?  But, as time marches on, and the atrocities of campaigning strip away the thin veneer of civilization true humanity, in its most fundamental form begins to claw and tear its way through.  Not unlike the classic scene in the thrilling expose "Heavy Metal" when Hannover Fiste recants his testimony on behalf of Captain Lincoln F. Sterne.  Beginning with a thoughtful, considered defense of the Captain's character, and eventually explaining that the captain was so reprehensible he "should be torn into little bitsy pieces and buried alive."  Ultimately, offering to do the job himself.  So goes the campaign, in the end it becomes a vicious game of last man standing.  Battle hardened, weary, and filled with rage, but standing.  Only a fool would rush into that, or a person who feels the call of destiny.    

This might explain why the field is still so bleak.  If you declare early you need to pursue the base, the extreme, and the moderate.  It requires a balancing act, a unicycle ride, across a mine field, while juggling broken bottles, filled with burning gasoline.  There are many who find this activity unappealing.  

If you are willing to wait, and jump in more toward the end of the campaign, you can be more focused, and tailor your message toward the side that seems to be winning.  Safer for your reputation, but it is calculated. You have less chance of alienating most of the voting population, but it is possible that voters will say "who is that guy?"  

It would be similar to rushing in at the last minute of a robbery, jumping on the robbers back, wrestling him to the ground, and listening to the applause.  But, in that scenario somebody who was there may have already disabled the gunman, and you will look foolish, busting down the door to save the day.  A day that has already been saved.  Plus, you will have to pay for the door.  

Obviously, politics in our world have become a matter of timing, substance means little.  Substance is probably a liability.  Anything of substance is bound to have a grating effect on somebody.  Better to be everything to everybody, at just the right time.

With that in mind, I would like to announce my exploratory, bi partisan, focus group to decide when I should announce my candidacy for the office of President.  It seems like the hope for a dramatic ground swell of dissatisfaction driving a grass roots write in victory might have been a little optimistic.  Americans love to innovate, as long as someone else does it.  We will be testing the waters, and when the wind is favorable, and the time is right, pow, we will be there.  

Until then go ahead and take a long, hard look at that Cruz guy.  Ask yourself why he has changed his name, and so drastically altered his appearance "Top Gun?"  Normally, that is not a presidential trait.  But, you can decide, we hope.

Your Government, a Work in Progress, well maybe progress, and work, are not the right words.

Ben Affleck mentioned Batman while appearing before the Senate Appropriations Subcommittee.  People seemed surprised that he would, with such ease, drop the caped crusaders name while testifying before congress.  Perhaps, they were worried he would dilute the Dark Knight’s brand by discussing the franchise in such a hostile, divisive, unproductive place.

No one seems too surprised that Ben Affleck, an actor, was testifying before the Senate Appropriations Subcommittee on State, Foreign Operations and Related Programs.  Or, that he mentioned Batman to Vermont senator Patrick Leahy, who is such a big fan of the movie series he has managed to land a few bit parts in several of the films, and, will be appearing with Affleck in “Batman vs. Superman: Dawn of Justice.”

No one seemed surprised the Patrick Leahy was using his influence as a congressperson to land a bit part in an action film.  At least, being an elected official would leave plenty of time to pursue an acting career.  Imagine the thrill when the first member of congress receives an Oscar, it will probably not be for any sort of "best supporting" role.

Turns out Affleck founded the “Eastern Congo Initiative” and advocacy group focused on helping communities in Eastern Congo.  There is no formal explanation of the nature of his testimony.  One can only assume he was attempting to marshal support for his cause.

Maybe, though, he was there to familiarize himself with the “workings” of congress, for a future role.  Maybe, that role is elected federal official. 

And, just maybe, that is not a role.  Maybe, noticing the success Senator Leahy has had glad handing his way into Mr. Affleck’s world of fictional characters performing impossible feats of unbelievable daring, and bravado, the Academy Award winning actor feels it is a street that runs both directions. 

Patrick Leahy as the new Robin, and Ben Affleck as the new Chairman of the Ways and Means Committee.  

“Holy Crap, Batman, H. R. 4457 will provide much-needed certainty for beer distributors and their small brewer partners, as well as incentivizing investment, and job growth, we need to act fast.”

Super heroes for congress, somebody should have thought of this a long time ago.  You can thank us later.

Space, it belongs to everybody, get some now.

Astronaut Scott Kelly, who is not married to a congress woman, which is shocking, the resemblance is remarkable, they could be brothers...  Wait, this just in, astronauts Scott Kelly, and Mark Kelly (husband of a retired congress woman) are brothers.  Back to the news.  Astronaut Scott Kelly is preparing to spend a year in space.

It has been quite a while since Americans have had the opportunity to feel any sense of accomplishment in space exploration.

We watched with wonder, and amazement when the European Space Agency landed a washing machine sized probe on a comet.  We applauded the feat with the rest of the world, all while thinking, "that could have been our home appliance."

We thanked Sir Richard Branson for having the entrepreneurial spirit, fortitude, and ingenuity to launch the first commercial, privately owned space tourism business.  Knowing full well, "we could be gouging rich people for a few minutes in low space orbit."

Now, though, thanks to NASA, Scott Kelly, American grit, sticktoitivness, bulldog like tenacity, and what can only be considered an ingenious end run around a gridlocked, bickering, tantrum throwing, responsibility ignoring, finger pointing assembly of elected officials, we finally have something to say, "space, we'll take a little, thank you," about.

It really got the guys, and girls, scientists, and engineers, here at Life Explained excited.  It was time to dust off the old "potential space experiments" file and see what they (our government, and its space agency) could do to help us help you, and everybody else, of course.  We like you, and all, but that is a lot of time and money, too much for one person, even you.

Unfortunately, we found out that not everybody shares our zeal for research and development.  According to a NASA spokesperson "our scientists disagree with your conclusions about the greatly reduced cooking time for rising crust crust pizza in zero gravity.  Further, they feel that the crust rises sufficiently for any pizza enthusiast in Earth's atmosphere.  To complicate matters, there is not room for pizza oven and stone in the small craft used to shuttle Astronaut Kelly to the International Space Station.  If you would like to attempt your experiment in the depths of the ocean we would be happy to put you in contact with the NOAA.  Thank you, for your interest."

Dang it!  We pay taxes.  We have rights.  That is what happens when you put a bunch of old people in charge of anything.  Nothing ever gets done.

We have decided to develop a space station of our own.  It should be pretty easy, all of the technology has been developed, we feel this was probably the most difficult, expensive part.  Now we just need to adapt to fit our budget.  Cargo containers are going for a song.

If you would like to get in on the ground floor of this exciting venture, and possibly become an astronaut yourself, don't delay.  Send a donation to "Life Explained, Explains Space Travel." today.  The biggest donator gets "shotgun."

My new blog; a little different.

Today, I posted the third installment of my newest blog.  I am still not sure where it is going.  So far, though, the situation seems a little hopeless.  Is mankind doomed, programmed to self destruction.  From what has been recorded for posterity, it seems so.

After explaining what I was researching, and the conclusions to a friend, he asked "what do you suggest we do about it?"

"I don't think there is anything we can do."  I explained.  We can only watch, and wait for the hammer to fall.  Sooner or later someone, somewhere will do something that starts the next shuffle of the deck, it may have happened already, in Eastern Europe, or the Middle East, and is now beginning to boil, and stew, and fester, until it explodes, and everybody is dragged in to the next "unavoidable war."

I just hope I am still here to say "I told you so."

Anyway, here is the link to my newest blog.

History, it is not so far away, after all. 

Road to the Final Four, or the Path to the Intermediate Thirty Two.

Tonight I am going to see the Dayton Flyers play the Oklahoma Sooners in an NCAA tournament game.  The NCAA tournament is my favorite sporting event.  A single elimination slugfest, providing hours of entertainment, competition, and numerous opportunities for gambling, game fixing, corruption, and intrigue.

After watching some of the officiating so far maybe that is not all a joke.  But, maybe I am just unhappy that the teams I was rooting for went down in ignominious defeat, a sobbing, bleeding pile of broken dreams laying below the naked baskets, the nets recently cut away by the winners.

Speaking of which, there is a great commercial featuring one of the heroes of my youth, Dr. J, where he explains that when you are climbing the ladder to cut down the net, make sure to grip the scissors firmly, because everything about climbing a ladder with a pair of scissors screams eye injury.  You should listen, he is a doctor, after all.

Of course, that is not important, because I am GOING TO THE GAME!  Long a dream of mine, and the great thing is I like both teams, so no matter who wins, I can be happy.  More importantly, it doesn't matter which group of fans I am with, there will be no friction.  And, it is likely that it will be Dayton fans, since we are going to the game in Columbus, OH.  At the hockey arena, playing on ice will add a new dimension to the game, I hope they don't call traveling too tightly.

Plus, and here is the good part, I have a new app, "Cute Cut" for my iPhone, to document the trip.

Further, I had no choice in going to the game, as I was visited by a Killer Robot from Outer Space, who demanded we take him to the game.  Here is the video of the event.

As you can see, the options were limited.

Tune in tomorrow, or Tuesday, for the full account of my "FIRST TRIP (though, I am hoping it is not my last) TO THE NCAA TOURNAMENT!"

Spring, the manly season.

Spring is in the air, the bicycle has been on its maiden voyage, the NCAA tournament is underway.  The flowers are starting to poke their heads out from the thawing ground.  It is a wonderful time of the year, warming, but not hot.  No snow to shovel, no lawn to mow.  Ah, the joys of spring.

Tonight there will be steaks on the grill. Cooking things over open flame bridges the gap to a more masculine past (I know that the flames will have died long before we cook the steaks, but there is fire, to start).  Plus, having steaks is probably the most masculine of meals.  It is a serving of untrammeled macho, slapped on a plate, right after it popped and sizzled over red hot embers on a dangerously hot grill with a two pronged fork, which has one purpose, to spear meat.

A serrated knife saws the meat into bite sized pieces, sitting in a natural symbiosis beside a steaming hot baked potato covered in melting butter, sour cream, maybe some shredded cheddar, and you have a meal right from man's ancient, primitive past.  Yes, the animal may have reduced to a manageable size by a third party facilitator, but it is still just a big piece of, more or less, unprocessed food cut right from the side of history, cooked over unregulated heat from smoking, popping wood products.  Just like early man would have wanted it.

It really makes a man want to howl at the moon, sleep under the stars, abandon all the girly pretense that modern life has forced on him.  He can, for a moment abandon the automobile, emails, text messages,smart phones, tablet computers, and all of the namby pamby, facebook updates, tweets, and online wimpy crap. He is one with the past.  He is history.  He has become Man.

Of course, the potatoes will be heated in the microwave, but it seems obvious that even cro-magnon man would have welcomed a way to warm food that was quick, easy and relatively inexpensive.  Early man was not without some mental resources after all.

Plus, butter, and sour cream, that is a lot of dairy fat, nobody should subject their arteries to that sort of abuse.  Maybe a light sprinkling of extra virgin olive oil, and a touch of sea salt, and a sprinkle of thyme, that would add flavor without breaking the diet wide open.  Who needs all of those calories?

Since dietary fiber is so important a side of kale, and a few pomegranate seeds, oh my, that would be heavenly.  A nice glass of Pinot Noir, or maybe a nice cup of Earl Gray, with a splash of honey, it will be like heaven.

Really, red meat is not the healthiest way to get protein, maybe a Chilean Sea Bass would be the way to go, grilled on a hardwood plank, served on fine china, with a side of...

Anyway, spring is here, and everybody should enjoy themselves, no matter what they prefer.  Now, I am off to watch a some basketball, and have a snack, any suggestions?

My Bracket, it was fun while it lasted.

As promised yesterday, here is my bracket for the NCAA tournament (2015 version).

Obviously, I am almost eliminated already.  That is really the plan, you know (not really)?  While everybody else is watching, tense, nervous, constantly checking their bracket, and their place in the bracket challenge(s). Chewing their fingernails, snapping at their families, cursing co-workers, spewing anger, disappointment, hate, and intolerance, just waiting for the hammer to drop I will be enjoying an icy cold, delicious beverage, and a tasty, warm, and with luck, healthy snack, and basketball.  This leaves me free to curse the refs, the fates, the unfortunate string of poor free throw shooting, the coriolis effect that is certainly reducing the three point shooting percentage of my team, anything that makes a convenient excuse for my team losing, almost without care.  

I know picking Kansas to win is crazy (forgive me Bill Self) they may be home before next weekend, but you have to pick somebody, and it should be somebody in the top 4 seeds.  I would have picked Louisville, except they showed Chris Jones the door, and losing your starting point guard right before the tournament is a bad omen.  And, in all fairness, I probably did pick them to win in one of the other brackets, I don't remember, and will let you know for sure, maybe.  And, as discussed yesterday, picking someone I don't want to win is impossible.  It leaves me rooting for a team I want to lose, or rooting against my bracket, and that is too much to ask. 

Here is my bracket with friendly, little cartoon people and musical accompaniment from the Spencer Davis Group.  You have to love those guys.

So, that is mine, enjoy, share yours if you want, the email address it tweettweetjohn@yahoo.com, and it will be posted here, for posterity.   And, if that makes you uncomfortable, that's cool, enjoy the tournament, I hope you win, I am pulling for you all the way.

Saint Patrick Probably would not pick the Fightin' Irish.

Yesterday was Saint Patrick's Day, a day to celebrate all things Irish.  Except for Saint Patrick, it seems, from some preliminary research, he was not born in Ireland.  He was born in Roman Britain, kidnapped and sold into slavery in Ireland, and after escaping to a Monastery in Gaul (France) he returned to Ireland.

He made the Druids stop practicing their religion, claiming it was paganistic, and not his religion.  Since this was such a bigoted, narrow minded act they made him a bishop, and then a saint.  It is unclear why Saint Patrick's Day strikes such a chord.  It seems most saints have a day, and looking into the days, it seems most of them have a saint, but, this one really gets all the press.

Green clothes, green derbies, green beer, green is everywhere.  Maybe that is why this one is so important, it has a color.  What color would you ascribe to Saint David of Wales (March 1st) or Saint Leander of Seville (March 13th)?  Nobody would know what to wear.  Saint Patrick, put on some green, find a parade, and things are rolling.

So, we move on, another Saint Patrick's Day, come and gone, the world returns to normal.  Which is no picnic, either.  Maybe nobody noticed through the green haze enveloping the world yesterday, but life still defies explanation.

If it weren't for the NCAA tournament I am not sure there would be any point at all.  Thank goodness for college basketball.  To make a point, I plan to post my bracket picks right here, for all the world to see. And, if you can find a way to choose teams in a pattern of diametric opposition you will probably do pretty well, kind of a public service from the good people at Life Explained.

In fact, if you send me your bracket as a JPG file I will post it here, as well.  And then complete strangers can question your sanity, loyalties and ability to pick a decent bracket.  Whoever wins, and by wins I mean has the appearance of the most correct choices, as judged by me, probably, (unless I can convince someone else to do it) will get a bit part in the movie, based on the best seller "Life Explained, a Primer in the Explanation of Life," after I figure out how to explain life, write the book, sell the movie rights, and find a way to influence the agency in charge of casting.  It should not be a problem, though.

So, email your bracket to me, at tweettweetjohn@yahoo.com.  Anytime before the end of the tournament. Submissions received after the tournament will not be accepted, unless they are accompanied by a $5.00 bill.

Thank you, and good luck,

Management,

NCAA tournament, picks, and more picks,

If you are a basketball fan this is a great time.  Tournaments, championships, the NCAA selection show, the tournament, all piled up in a wild stretch of round ball insanity.  A fan's dream.  Nonstop basketball, "bracketology," March Madness, preceded by the "the road to the Final Four," "the journey to the tourney."

Of course, not all schools follow these successful paths to the post season, some schools travel the more leisurely "avenue to mediocrity," or "boulevard to the bottom."  These roads take much less effort, and a more manageable investment of time and resources.   Many of the teams I watch, and for whom I root follow these paths almost yearly.

But, I still manage to find a team to pick to win the tournament every year.   Normally they don't.  It doesn't really matter who I think is going to win, I have to pick a team that I like.  "Don't bet with your heart, bet with your head," was the constant advice from the owner of the Hub Bar.  Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Here is the problem.  There are three options, I can pick a team I hate, and have to root for them to win.  No thanks.  I can not pick a team at all, and be on the outside looking in, as it were, that is not really appealing.  Or, I can pick a team that I want to win, and root for them, hoping for a miracle, pulling for the long shot underdog.

Isn't that really the America way, isn't really the American dream?  A dark horse, coming from the back of the pack, flying past the middle of the pack, driving hard down the home stretch and leaving all of the basketball aristocracy behind,  wondering who these upstarts with the fresh, pimply faces and the unfamiliar uniforms are, isn't that what the tournament is all about?  Isn't that what America is all about?

So, if you know people who ridicule your picks, if you have "experts," or "bracketologists" who question your choices, tell them, "anybody can pick the winner.  Try picking losers for a while, then come see me."

Friday, Explained

Today is Friday, a day many feel embodies the noble spirit of mankind.  A day many feel the paragon of the virtues of humanity.  A day many feel shows the ultimate evolution of the race.  Lofty ideals no doubt, but Life Explained needs proof.  Sending the finest vocational anthropologists available into a medium sized company, in a moderately sized city, in a region often used to test market food and drink products before national release seemed like a good way to test "The Theory of the Friday Pinnacle."

Walking carefully down the drab, brown halls of the work place, our steps almost silent on the low pile, tan carpet, (a color whose only purpose is to hide stains and wear, tragically, this is accomplished by making the whole thing look worn and dirty) Monday morning at 10:47.  A tomb like silence was broken only by muffled curses, and soft weeping.  People dashed into offices, meeting rooms, bathrooms, closets, slamming the doors, diving under desks, just to avoid conversation.   Eye contact was avoided, not only with the scientists but with the other members of the office tribe.

Fear, and trepidation were palpable.  Obviously, this was a society in decline, once proud, and profitable, you could tell by the smart phones, and tablets abandoned in terror, as individual tribe members would smash through a glass wall, dive under a wood grain conference table, and cower in abject fear.  Suffering visibly, the scene was almost over powering.  Work was not getting done at all, ringing phones went unanswered as these poor souls, squatted, half hidden behind the wax plants scattered conveniently around the building.  All of the windows were covered, blinds, or curtains closed tightly against the antiseptic sunshine and warmth.  It was a tragic scene.

Tuesday, bought the glimmer of a smile, the spark of acceptance, with the braver members of the tribe actually peaking out from the bathroom stalls.  Rushing up to touch the researchers, and running, quickly away, a sound, perhaps a guttural giggling, could be heard as they rushed away.   Work was, for the most part, ignored, as boundaries were tested, and tribe members were striving for dominance.  Mostly using games of skill, involving expense reports, or purchase orders, wadded into tight, almost symmetrical balls, heaved at distant waste baskets.  Winners took the chairs with the nicest casters, wheeling themselves down the hall, just out of reach of the research team's scientific equipment.

Wednesday, the change was significant.  With the indigenous people gathering, in small groups of trusted friends at the coffee maker, microwave, or refrigerator.  Darting eyes were proof that the tragedy of Monday's alarm clock was not forgotten.  Work was largely left for later, the new found freedom was intoxicating.   Monday is still remembered, but the nature of the ecosystem has changed.  Boisterous, if embarrassed  laughter rings down the halls, echoing down hallways, and off cubicle walls.

By Friday things start looking like a tailgate party.  Tribe members were actually lighting fires under the feeder tray of the fax machine to grill brats and burgers.  There seemed to be an unwritten rule about the cooking of fish, and whispered tales of the terrible death, and dismemberment of a poor fool who had tried to blacken tuna steaks.  Of course, no work was done, and the celebrants were dancing a tribal dance down the central hallway.  A line of happy, joyful people, ignoring phone calls, and emails, intent on making the most of the moment, and plans for the coming weekend.  Electricity filled the air, the tyranny of week days were almost at an end, and the tribe was "bustin' a move."

It was a sight to be remembered, smiling, laughing people, in a long line weaving in time through the building, in one door, out the next, texting, emailing plans, "meet me at Phil's House o' Burgers for a beer," without losing their place in line.  Distant drums pounding time, a hypnotic beat driving a mesmerizing scene.

And, we have the weekend, two days of liberation,  But, following that, Monday.  But, Friday is coming, hold on to that thought.

It is too wonderful to be Wednesday (it is Wednesday, isn't it?)

It seems like spring.  A cold, bleak, snowy winter is finally giving up, and the warmth is reinvigorating my zeal for working out.  Soon, I will be able to break out the kick scooter and cruise during my lunch break, go for bicycle rides in the evening.  Taking advantage of Mother Nature's fitness facility.  I still plan on using the gym at least three times a week, but fresh air, and new places are important.

Today is a gym day, and I am honestly looking forward to going.  I found a new feature from Apple (well, it is not a new feature, but, I just found it, iTunes U).  I recommend the Yale Lecture Series.  Right now I am listening to Ancient Greek History by Donald Kagan and it is fantastic.  Much more thorough, and in depth than I need, but still fantastic.  And the guy is entertaining, and pretty funny, as well.  You should check it out.

So it has been a good week.  When you add in the wild new app I got called Cam Animate  which is a lot of fun (the only problem I have found with this app is when I try to take advantage of the .99 cent upgrade it won't connect to the App Store, so if anybody knows someone at Half Click Studios, tell them I need their help).  Life is pretty good this week, and it is still two and a half days until the weekend.

So here is a panoramic picture I took with my phone as while on my lunch time walk.  The first one I have ever taken,

And here is a video from my new app.

Man, life is good.

Success, different things to different people.

It is amazing how far we have come since starting this little blog, about 2 years ago.  We have branched out into another, mores serious blog, seen here.  And Doctor Dawg has developed quite a following.  

People pay good money to watch him work.  Even when he is deep in thought, so deep that sometimes we think he has given up the ghost.  Such is the price of fame.

A Security Issue Delayed.

During the early days of Life Explained, when things were hectic, innovation rampant, excitement, and invention epidemic the principals knew they needed to be careful.  It was an exciting time, but it was balanced by the knowledge that achievement and advancement carried a terrible cost, and invoked an awesome responsibility.

It was vital that the hard won accomplishments not fall into the wrong hands, and it was well known that the "wrong hands" would press hard to acquire the fruits of  their labors.  Knowing that the world was only one break in, one leaked document, one errant email containing crucial information from all of the power needed to end hunger, cure illness, and finally achieve parity in professional sports... wait, that was not what they were afraid of, it was the destruction of the planet that bothered them.  

Nobody minded that other stuff, sure, nobody wanted to just give it away, but, profit is what drives commerce, right?  And commerce is what fuels growth, isn't it?  And growth is what provides the resources necessary for research and development, is that not true?  And research and development is what provides the product needed for profit, you see?  So, making money is truly the greatest act of philanthropy, and that is what the company is built around.

"We'll take two of the large, three mediums
and six of the small ones, please"

It is a sad reality, though, that when they developed the technology to end hunger, eradicate disease, and help society pull itself from the brink of extinction, and approached various world governments with the opportunity to buy this wonderful ability they got the cold shoulder.  World governments all said some variation of, "thanks, that stuff is all good, and someday we would like to look into it a little more, but, do you have anything that will blow up a lot of our enemies?"

Of course, the governments all agreed that they did not want to really blow up a lot of people, they just wanted the "capability" (they all felt the "ability" was too wimpy sounding to be a credible threat) to blow up a lot of their enemies, that way they could lord it over other countries.  Threatening to blow up a lot of people, it turns out, is one of the chief activities of organized government.  Well, back to the drawing board. 

But, that is not what this is about, this is about the Life Explained security personnel fiasco, the abuse of power, and the corruption of humanity.  Unfortunately, we don't have time to cover that today.  Please tune in tomorrow for "Company Cops Gone Wild," or "do you have a valid need to be in this hallway, or shall we turn the fire hose on you?"  You want to be there for that.

Fitness, Fun, and Food.

Now that I am working out (a lifter) it seemed only natural that I would attend the Arnold Fitness Festival. An extravagant, hectic, crowded assembly, packing the Columbus Convention Center from one end to the other. Attendees run the gamut from extremely fit to fitness challenged (I like to think of myself as fitness challenged Plus, working to physically fit light). Having never been there before I was not sure what I would see. What I did see was a little amazing, a little frightening, and a lot of entertaining.

Convention centers share several characteristics. Most are designed around a long central hall, with large rooms, with big exhibition rooms branching off at more or less regular intervals. Often these rooms have pocket style walls allowing for adjustable sizes, and numerous configurations. But, if you want to take the pulse of an event you want the long central hall. That is where everybody congregates, where all of the meetings take place.

When viewed from the proper perspective the central hall is like a combination of a parade, and a an airport terminal, mixed with a little bit of reunion, maybe family, maybe school, possibly even neighborhood. Hugs, handshakes, smiles, and laughter ring through the hall, repeated down the length of the hall, and echoing, inviting and warm, it can give you hope. This perspective is from above the fray. Climb the stairs to the upper hall, look down on the masses, and it looks happy and joyous.

Of course, the view from the main floor is a little different. Down there it is competition, survival of the fittest, a mad dash to an imaginary finish line. Competitors weaving in and out of the slow moving traffic. Down here the happiness, and pleasantries are few, fleeting, and on the fringes where nothing is moving. Soon, the flow will even grab the celebrants, sweeping them along in flood of humanity, toward the next available eddy.

Oddly enough, both views are correct. And when you go to these things you have to enjoy both. There is a sense of omnipotence looking down on the masses from an elevated position, safe and sound, but the real feel of the festival is among the throng feeling the energy of the crowd.

If you are looking for insight, and exercise tips, though, you are probably in the wrong place. The body builders are doing a job, and performing a routine, the vendors want to sell their supplements or equipment, which is fine, because that is why they came. So, don't expect any revelations. If that sounds unreasonable ask yourself what advice you expect. Work very hard, and push yourself to the very edge, and then push yourself some more. Make lifting and exercising a life style, sacrifice, toil, slave, and work, work, work, and you can be muscular beyond belief. We all know that fitness requires effort, would that it didn't, but it does. There are no shortcuts, that's why people admire body builders, not because it is easy.

If you have the opportunity go to the Fitness Expo, or anything similar, it is fun, and there are crowds, and a herd like solidarity, and all of the colors of life. People like you, and people who are nothing like you, and all of the types in between. There are exhibits, and displays and the energy of all that life crammed in such a small place.  But, if you go to the Arnold Festival in Columbus, walk 3 blocks west and hit the North Market for some hot dogs and potato chips at the "Best Wurst," you will need the protein.

Three Months, and Climbing

Last night was the start of the third month of going to the gym.  It has been wonderful!  My youth was an endless cycle of wretched, self-destructive behavior that often manifests itself in unexpected and painful ways.  Yesterday while loading my "gym bag"* I felt a twinge in my lower back, on the left side.  A twinge that turned, quickly, into a pang, and slid right into a debilitating ache of unbelievable agony**

After an internal debate that lasted most of the day I decided to go ahead and hit the gym. Reasoning that I could, at least, do my aerobic workout and then see how I felt. Oddly enough, the treadmill loosened up my sore back. And I managed to get my heart rate up and maintain the level for quite a while. In fact, things were going so well I had to stop and find a pod cast. Honestly, I thought it would be over so quickly that something new was unnecessary. But, soon things felt so good, I was on to "Sparta" from the "In Our Time" podcast series.

I am researching Sparta, and Athens (and the animosity and competition for supremacy that led to the awful excesses of the Peloponnesian war) for my new blog My New History Blog. I really like the "In Our Time" series, it is British, and the accent adds authority, but, the guests always have titles like "Ancient History Chair, at Oxford." So, it is not only the accent that gives the show credibility. Plus, they provide a lot of detail, in a way that keeps moving, and adds life to societies long gone. 

After spending a good deal of time, and a great deal of effort, on the treadmill, I was feeling pretty loose, and ready for some resistance training. Since my back was still a little sore I decided to use the free weights. I have been meaning to branch out a little anyway, and the resistance machines really seem to require a whole body effort. Plus, I read that varying your workout provides increased benefits, so this was the ideal time.

After asking the attendant about the best way to start I jumped right in. Dang, it is a completely different workout! They have no barbells, only dumbbells, but it is crazy how difficult it can be to move those heavy, little units from one place (down by your body, laying on the bench) to the top of a path described by the full extension of your arms. Not only do you have to lift them, you have to control them, they wobble, and twist, and almost seem animated. It is less lifting weights, and more wrestling weights. It is a constant struggle to keep them from taking off and going wherever they want. It was an eye opening experience, and I loved it. This morning, it is still with me, in my shoulders, my sides, and my arms. 

 
I have decided to make free weights part of my weekly routine. And, I have decided to start my history blog with Greece, it was going to start with Egypt, and Thutmose, but since I am in the middle of this podcast, and have a book about the subject, and it is my blog, after all, it will not be chronological, and proceed in a random order. Don't worry, when they publish the book, and make the movie we can arrange it in a more orderly fashion. 

Since I am a "lifter" now I may go to the Arnold Fitness Festival this weekend, so keep your eye open for that post, it will be great, or at least different.

 

 
*Technically, it is a back pack, that pulls duty as my "writers bag" my "travel bag" and occasionally my "photographers bag," though almost all of my photos are taken on my iPhone™ so normally my "photographers bag" is just a pocket.

 
**Well, maybe it wasn't that bad, but it hurt, a lot.

Something a little different.

I have decided to start another blog, something with a little more gravity.

You can check it out here.

Protection and the Cost of a Mistake.

Things have been a little slow around the Life Explained headquarters the last several weeks. When things get slow people get scared, money gets tight, and that can cause problems. In this case it caused problems for Dr. Dawg, and Bob, from the secretarial pool.

Bob had always felt people treated him derisively because he was a secretary, and not even a private secretary. Being in the pool forced him to work in several departments, and this gypsy job style bothered him a little.

So, when things got a little tight, and Bob was worried about his next meal he jumped at Dr. Dawg's offer to make a little extra cash.

It was tried and true plan, as simple as it was effective, and as easy as it was widely used. They were going to sell "protection" to the office personnel on the 4^th floor. It would be great.

Reasoning that it would be better to start with Shirley, she was old. Almost retirement age, so she would be worried about potential broken bones, widowed so nobody would come to her aid, and fairly wealthy, she had been working for all of those years, after all.

They devised a plan, they would approach Shirley's desk after everybody else had left for the day. Since she was older, and had little to do after hours she was dedicated to her job, often working long after her co-workers headed for the excitement of the city at night.

They would push her iced coffee onto her computer keyboard causing her to worry about what she would tell the tech department. Then they would knock over her "World's Best Grandma" cup. She was so proud of that mug, adorned with her Grandchildren's pictures, she refused to stain it with coffee. She kept wax flowers in the cup, changing them with the season. When the flowers spilled on her desk, she would stand to pick them up before the rolled onto the floor. Dr. Dawg would move in behind her legs, Bob would push her over, and they would threaten her until she paid them to leave.

Things were going splendidly, too, she did not have her iced coffee, so they had to improvise, and knocked over her water bottle. Unfortunately, it had the lid screwed on tightly, and no water spilled out. Before Bob could knock over flower vase, "World's Best Grandma" cup Shirley stood demanding to know what "in the name of goodness are you doing?" No problem, Bob, and Dr. Dawg figured, accelerating the time table Dr. Dawg moved in behind her.

When Bob went to push her over something odd happened, it happened quickly, too. Sweeping her left arm through a graceful, fluid arc, Shirley pushed Bob's arms aside. Her right hand, formed in a fist, flew, arrow quick, and laser straight into Bob's nose. Before he could say, "Ouch, that hurt," Shirley chopped him in the throat, and swept his legs out from underneath him, crumpling him like a sack of wet, limp towels, onto the floor.

Dr. Dawg was hiding in one of the offices, under a desk. Bob was rolling across the floor, writhing in pain, and gasping for breath when Shirley took his wallet, emptied it of money, and grabbed his American Express card. She called her Knitting Society Circle, asking if they wanted to go to dinner, she was buying.  They jumped at the chance.

Shirley grabbed her coat, her scarf, and her purse, and walked around Bob, saying "excuse me," very politely, and headed toward the elevator.

Raising healthy kids, a guide.

According to a study, published in the journal "Pediatrics" and reported on by Time.com dishes washed by hand could help prevent the development of allergies in children.

It seems the introduction of microbes early in life stimulates the immune system, making it more "tolerant," according to the author of the study, Dr. Bill Hesslemar of  Queen Silvia Children's Hospital in Gothenburg, Sweden.

Figuring that hand washing dishes might be an important aspect of developing a healthy immune system the team asked the parents and guardians of 1,029 children.  Only 23% of children from families who hand washed the dishes were afflicted by eczema, while 38% of children whose parents used dishwashers were afflicted.

Of course, this study is only the beginning, it does raise significant opportunities.  If eating from hand washed dishes proves healthier for children, what if the children washed the dishes themselves?  It would teach them the value of hard work, discipline and bolster their health.

If washing dishes is healthy, how about scrubbing the floor, washing and waxing my car?  Mowing the lawn?  It is crazy the things we are willing to give up for our children.

Think of the potential health benefits if children cooked the meals, raw meat, after all is filled with foul stuff, sure to add years to a childs life.  Then served the food to parents whose only care is the health of their babies, and cleaned up afterward.

Dirty clothes, are filled with bacteria, which turns out to be the staff of life, imagine how healthy America's youth will be if they start washing clothes.  Just think of the benefits made possible by taking in the laundry of single people who don't have to worry about the continuation of their blood line.  Plus, you might make a little cash, too.  Which is good for kids, they can make much better meals, giving them a higher sense of self esteem.  These kids might live forever.

Raising children is difficult, and perilous, filled with pitfalls, heartache, and sacrifice, but in the grand picture of life it will be worth all of the heartburn from rich, fatty foods, and the soft, supple hands from avoiding dish water.  You owe it to the next generation, after all.

The more things change.

This is the third month of "the new tim" regimen.  In many ways it is going so much better than I had hoped, in others not so brightly.

Physically, I am thrilled with my progress, and effort.  This is the start of my third month of exercise.  And each week I push myself a little harder, and I feel so much better.  Part of it is, probably, the healthier diet, vegetables and fruit with almost every meal, and the addition of a multi-vitamin as part of my evening pill popping adventure, which has now reached 4, and sometimes 5, if I take Ibuprofen (only sometimes).

I need that discipline in other areas of my life, I am still not dedicated enough to writing, and researching.  Research is almost lackadaisical, ad-hoc, inconsistent, built around the things I want to study.  To expedite this, and build good habits, I have started a new blog, located here,

It will be a jumping off point for all of my research into the past to support a novel I have decided to write, about a scientist, time travel, ancient, and future armies, the potential destruction of a treasured national landmark, and several small towns in Nebraska, Illinois, Iowa, and South Dakota.

My cousin Mike has a Facebook page about a book he is writing, and I may try that, I don't know.  I have enough trouble with focus, and one more thing to update would probably be too distracting.

Sitting here, thinking about this, the question that keeps hammering away, pounding, and burning "why?"  Who knows, maybe it is the new Urban Armor case for the Surface Pro 3 (a wonderful computer, and a fantastic cover) it makes sense, trying to justify that purchase, almost $70.00 ($69.99).  Maybe it is the new iPhone app, TextExtractor, which is fantastic, and free, it can scan text and save it as text, which seems like it should be easy, apparently it is not, though.

Maybe it is a midlife crisis, I love my wife, my car and my kids, so I need to do something to prove I am not old.

Maybe it is a natural phenomenon, a longing for recognition, seeking a small amount of immortality, some dream of not being forgotten.  Maybe this is not unique, at all, maybe everybody wants these things. Well, they can start their own blog, this one is mine.

Or better yet, they can write guest posts for my new blog, located here.  It is now accepting guest posts about historic battles, armies or conquests.  If you have a post you would like to add, email me at tc.add3@gmail.com.  It should be accurate, and focus mostly on tactics, strategy, weaponry, and leadership.  The human costs were terrible, and the suffering was immense, but I would rather not cover that part.