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Sunday, August 30, 2015

Water, You Have No Power Over Me, sort of

People who know me will tell you that I hate boats!  Being on a boat is one of my worst nightmares, number three, I think, but the list is not handy so there is no way to be sure. I think it goes

1. Flying
2. Spiders
3. Water

But, I am working from memory, so that may not be ironclad. Premature burial has to be in there somewhere. And, I know being accidentally poisoned by a hard drinking pharmacist going through a painful, expensive divorce is pretty high, too. Maybe I should just go get the list... Wait, that isn't what I am here to talk about today.

I am here to tell you about my latest search. We are buying a canoe, or maybe a tandem kayak. Wait, you are thinking, isn't a canoe, or a kayak a boat, you are demanding, rather rudely I might add.

Technically, yes they are boats. But, they are well behaved, dignified boats. Gliding with silent grace across the water, working symbiotically with humanity in a wonderful dance, almost ballet. Plus they are a great source of exercise, and I have always enjoyed canoeing.  I can't explain the difference.  It is there, though. Better left to philosophers.

Plus, there is no "captain" wearing a brand new coat of Jack Daniels bravado wanting to "open 'er up, and show you what she can do." Then insisting that if you tried water skiing you would love water skiing. Right until I end up sleeping with the fishes, or even worse being eaten by the Lake Watusi version of Nessie.

So, I am off today, in search of the perfect transportation. Anybody with any information regarding the relative merits of a kayak vs. a canoe please leave them in the comments.


Saturday, August 29, 2015

Cornhuskers, Football, and Life.

There comes a time in every life when a person has to look at the decisions made, the paths followed. A time when the wealth of deeds needs to be measured, and expectations evaluated. A time when a real man, or woman (having no understanding of women I will leave that to women) will look at his, or her life and understand, almost instinctually if significant progress has been made toward the goals set. Or whether modifications are needed, whether it be to the goals, or to the tactics of life.

Given the state of my life, and my deep, uncompromised loathing for introspection, my mistrust of self examination, and the fact that it is Saturday, the greatest day of the week, the weather is beautiful, and I am feeling very peaceful we are not going to have none of that.

Note my signature finger in the photo!
Instead, we are going to talk about the coming football season, it is Saturday, after all.  I am an unapologetic Nebraska Cornhusker fan. Yes, they have had their troubles lately, and yes they are still in the midst of a rebuilding process that has taken years, and yes the new coaching staff will certainly need time to develop their team. But, I don't care. 

I forgot the finger,
please forgive me.
In the end there has to be something besides winning that drives a fan. You need to feel some kinship with the players, coaches and other fans. Some deep, communal bond that transcends the game. We, my family and I, are big Louisville Cardinal basketball fans (I have been for years, since before Dr. Dunkenstein) and we try to take in a game at the Yum Center in Louisville every year. When you walk around the arena before the game there is a friendly, family reunion feel. People are smiling, and the camaraderie is palpable. It is transcendent, and tonic. And sports needs that.

Of course I want the team to win every game, but, I still wear my Nebraska shirts with pride when they don't. After a loss, when, without fail, someone will ask "what happened?" I will say "they lost." and walk away smiling. These are young men, who work incredibly hard, and are coached by people who have made an obsession of learning the nuances of the sport. And sometimes that is not enough, but it would be a comedy of idiocy were I to try coaching the team, so I don't try to coach, post game. 

When people ask if I am "happy about winning only 8 games a season." I say "I am extremely happy when they win, and less happy when they lose. But, feel comfortable saying it wasn't because they weren't trying."

We have a new coach this year and that is always exciting. We are undefeated so far, and that is great. And, we have a whole season of ups and downs, and the roller coaster ride is what makes it worthwhile, so thank you Mike Riley, thank you Nebraska Cornhuskers, and fans, I am ready.  It will be a great season.

Friday, August 28, 2015

Chocolate Thunder, We Will Miss You.

Yesterday brought sad news. Darryl Dawkins passed away, at only 58. He was a giant of a man, and watching him changed the way I thought of Basketball.

I was a Seventy Sixer Fan, and those guys were everything basketball should be. It always seemed to ended up the Sixers and the Celtics in the Eastern Conference finals. If either team would win the series (best of 7) on the other teams court the fans would shout "Beat LA" because these teams, and their fans hated each other, but there was a special loathing for the Lakers. "Show Time" to a Philly or Boston fan just meant you didn't want to get your uniform all mussed playing real basketball.

Real basketball involved power, and a little savagery. And the Sixers had it. Dr. J, soaring, bird of prey like, from the free throw line, to finish with a one handed tomahawk jam. It was a melding of art and power. "When the doctor makes a house call the patient always dies."

And in the heart of the beast, was Darryl Dawkins. A huge man, of gigantic proportions, and enormous flair.  He could grab a rebound with one hand, and turn and fire it in a baseball pass all the way the way down the court. It was a thing of beauty.

He was the first player drafted by the NBA right out of high school. A man child, who never really grew up. Thank God.

His thunderous dunks were spectacular. He was the first one to shatter a backboard, and he did it
twice. It just exploded. Fireworks! He was Chocolate Thunder from the Planet Lovetron. His spectacle included naming his dunks. "Dunk you very much," Spine Chiller" "Hey Doctor Naismith, Get Out Of My Waysmith, Or You Will Get Peach Basket Splinters All Over Your Facesmith."

On a team with World B Free, Doctor J, and George McGinnis Dawkins always stood out. He was a 6' 11" marketeer, with a constant smile, and an exuberant, charming personality. He was the king of the court. Of all the players I will never get to meet, he may be the one I regret most.

The NBA is not as much fun as it used to be, and it needs a Darryl Dawkins now.

Thank you Chocolate Thunder, we knew one day you would have to go back to Lovetron. You will be missed.

Thursday, August 27, 2015

McWhopper, McNo McWay. McMaybe

We, here at Life Explained, have been guilty of trying all sorts of bizarre things. We were the first to try aging whiskey in space. The whiskey never made it back, and that space capsule had several dents, and needed a thorough cleaning, thank goodness we only sent 4 bottles. We tried cloning a sheep, and ended up with Scotland declaring war on Ireland (that took a while to straighten out). Obviously, we are no stranger to unique experimentation. But. the McWhopper, that is going too far.

Burger King and McDonald's are bitter enemies, and any collaboration between them would be an abomination. It would be similar to ordering a big plate of gasoline and a cup of fire. Nobody would do that. They don't mix.

In most neighborhoods with both franchises the police have to increase security patrols to keep the counter people from hijacking the customers trying to enter the opponents building. They have actually been known to exchange small arms fire between peak times. There are even rumors of mortar fire, with the potential for bigger artillery pieces, but only for the most profitable franchises.

One night, as I was driving home the Burger King and Ronald McDonald were actually fighting in the parking lot of Taco Bell, whose spokesperson at the time was a small Chihuahua dog. Poor little dog could do nothing except yap incessantly at the clowns rolling around on the pavement. Fortunately Colonel Sanders had an squad of infantry men in the area, who managed to break it up, before either were seriously injured.

Many historians believe the feud goes back to ancient times, when both were plying their wares in carts around Pre-Christian Rome. It was the origin of gladiatorial games, the king and the clown would fight to the death outside the coliseum. People stood and cheered, nobody went inside to see the show. Everybody enjoyed it so much they institutionalized the battle, and added lions. It was quite a scene, I wasn't there mind you, but I have read a little.

Now they might work together, this is biblical, end of days stuff here, my friends. We need to take a stand, "Say No To The McWhopper!"  Unless they use pepperjack cheese and maybe throw on an onion ring that would be great, and they have to ditch the secret sauce, then maybe we can talk. Hey, is it lunchtime yet?

Wednesday, August 26, 2015

Wednesday, Hump Day, The gods of leisure have smiled on us.

We, here at Life Explained, are always looking for a way to celebrate Wednesday. And, we have had some doozies. Like that time we accidentally reanimated Vlad the Impaler from a small sample of DNA found in an ancient serving bowl.

We were trying to make the perfect spinach dip, and our greens were a little to "green." It seemed like sending it through the wormhole we have harnessed to generate the power needed for the sound system would be a perfect way to ripen them. Nobody wanted to use a new bowl. This was the first time anybody had thought of using time travel to make an appetizer, and we had this bowl from something we have no knowledge of and if we did have any knowledge of we would not be allowed to discuss.

It worked perfectly too but when the Dracul came out carrying our perfectly ripened spinach we got a little worried.Though, the spinach was perfect, and the dip was extraordinary. People still talk about that dip, and tear up a little bit.


That might have been a real problem had we not been having such a keen party. Turns out Vlad loves a good party, and was leading the conga line. Man, he was really busting a move, too until Security could apprehend and unanimate him.  Thank goodness our security forces don't join the party, most times we think they are kind of wet blankets, walking around, following rules, and just being armed, pushy people in general. Sometimes we are grateful for their obsessive attention to regulation.

Anyway, today, we are sending Bob, from Legal, back to the last ice age to get some really fresh ice, lots of it! We have rum punch, Kentucky Bourbon (if it isn't from Kentucky it's just whiskey) and lots of beer. There might even be a live band, depending on how much the lab guys have to drink.It will be the best party ever. You have to love Wednesday. What could possibly go wrong?

Monday, August 24, 2015

Life Explained Northeast Office (LENO)


Hello ladies and gentlemen. Jeremy Crow here from the first (and potentially only) franchise of “Life Explained” up here in the far northeast reaches of the United States. For those who don’t know how that works, you would have to drive through Browns country, to Steelers country, to Bills country before you wound up in God’s country, where we are all Patriots fans. As Patriots fans we thought the first thing we should take the time to explain to all of you is the art of winning!

Now winning is hard to explain to Browns and Bills fans but Steelers fans seem to know a little something about winning. Well actually if you talk to a Steelers fan they have done nothing but win, and they can explain exactly how their team was screwed on every last one of the games that ended up getting placed in the “L” column. Up here in Patriots country we don’t have the same issue with any game that ends up in the “L” column, it just means we didn’t try hard enough, and by try hard enough we mean going that extra mile to secure a victory. At Life Explained Northeast Office (LENO) we are working very hard to come up with more and more exciting ways to go that extra mile.

Now of course if you were to go in the complete opposite direction from the Life Explained Home Office (LEHO) instead of towards the Life Explained Northeast Office (LENO) you will end up in Colts country. They are way behind the times in the whole going the extra mile category. Their owner seems to think you have to be drunk to drive the extra mile, and the team still searches the locker rooms for bugging devices. That’s about as old as pumping artificial crowd noise into a dome. No we here have come up with a fool proof way of going the extra mile (GEM) when the colts come to town. We just play them and let them humiliate themselves. Yes it is the easiest of our work here, but sometimes you have to go with the classics.

Of course on the drawing table we have been experimenting with sink holes, falling meteors, and we’ve even called in George W Bush to teach us how you can created hurricanes and really mess with the other team. It’s all in a day’s work here, and when we are talking about a day’s work we are talking about whole half hour and perhaps forty five minutes if the donuts are good. Don’t trust the fate of your football team to just anyone, make sure you stick to the people who know what it takes to secure victory! Life Explained Northeast Office, a Bill Belichick approved vendor of good old fashioned fun and frolic!

Sunday, August 23, 2015

Commerce Gone Wild!

Yesterday we went to the Outlet Mall. It is a big day, filled with excitement, and energy. There are several advantages to shopping at Tanger Outlet Mall, convenience is the driving factor for us. There are so many stores packed into a small place, so many different brands, all crammed into a brisk walk.

It really packs in the people, too. Humanity, in all its variety, all walking the sidewalks and crowded aisles. It is a true testament to the human spirit. There is safety in numbers, we are social animals and we love a good deal.

When dealing with that many people it is important to establish yourself as the alpha shopper early. One good way to do this, use the restroom, and wash your hands vigorously, spending enough time that the other person finishes first. Already you have proven your superior hygiene. Then, to cement your dominance, as the filthy, lesser shopper of the species is drying his hands, using the heated air, dry your hands on the back of his shirt, pulling up the tail and really getting between the fingers. You can walk out clean, dry and in charge.

But, don't kid yourself there is always some young gun, looking to unseat you from the lofty throne. You have to keep your edge, stay light on your feet, and keep your head on a swivel. One way to avoid being unseated, leave early.

As the day wears on the crowds get denser, the mood darkens, and the atmosphere becomes more volatile. People who are fighting through crowds of people who are often stopped in the middle of the sidewalk shrieking at unruly children, or having small, loud family reunion, can be hostile, vicious. And these are not the kind of people I want shop with.

So, yesterday, I got a new pair of shoes for work, a new pair of shoes for the gym, and most importantly a new gym bag. It is a manly bag, canvas, and leather, macho as can be for a bag you carry on your shoulder. I wanted something different, I always do, and then I wonder why I don't fit in. Go figure.

Saturday, August 22, 2015

A big adventure.

Today we are off the outlet mall. Most people don't view this as a big adventure, but I do. Mostly because it is a lot more fun that way.

We stop for breakfast, and take snacks, and pop on ice, and make a whole day or it. Which spells big trouble for the Life Explained Nation. Because you will have to live through it tomorrow. Sorry.

Here is a spoiler, look for something completely fictional, and without any relation to reality, with a small amount of real life. And some pictures of food, I love food.

Forecast high of 82, low humidity, and atmospheric conditions just short of heavenly.
Sorry, but it is kind of a tradition.

This is like a little vacation if you do it right.

Friday, August 21, 2015

Party Night. Karaoke Contest.

We, here at Life Explained, have been very busy, it is our holiday rush. The Joint Chiefs, and all of the generals, and admirals, and advisers are always in a rush to get their little weapon systems, and improved ordinances, in time for Christmas morning. Nothing says Merry Christmas like an autonomous air to surface missile with surgical accuracy and 98% kill classification. Imagine the joy.

Since it is Friday, we decided to let our hair down a little bit, which is funny because so many of us are so bald we look as if we have been exposed to dangerous levels of radiation... Hey, one of you guys run down and check the shielding on the reactor, please.

Anyhoo, we are going to really cut loose tonight. We are ordering pizza, soda pop, candy bars and a karaoke machine!


We are going to have a big competition to see who is the best singer. No voice enhancement allowed. And certainly no mind control machines. We learned our lesson last Saint Patrick's Day, when Bob, from R and D wanted to win the best costume, and used an ad-hoc thought control device and everybody went shrieking from the kitchen. No one is sure whether they thought they saw snakes, or were snakes. It was an ugly day in the history of the company.

On the plus side we sold the device to a third world despot for a small fortune. He didn't realize it was not directional, and he ran all the way to the War Crimes Court in the Hague, and we collected a big fat reward. Since we fired Bob for scaring the be-jesus out of his coworkers he didn't even get a cut. But, he did win best costume, a gift card to the company commissary. Of course, since he was canned he never got the chance to use it.

Now, rumor has it that Bob has hired legal council to reclaim his lost $25.00 gift card. Bob was always kind of a jerk.

That is the past, and we don't like to dwell on the past (you hear that, Bob, you bastard?). Tonight is a celebration, bring your golden voices and your dancing boots, we are throwing down tonight.

Thursday, August 20, 2015

This Week in Review

Today is Thursday, and that means the weekend is within sight, if you are standing, and looking in the right direction. We should all say a silent thank you. But, those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it. And they are not talking about the good bits, you never get to repeat those.

So, we are going to look back on the week and see if there are lessons left, buried in the dust created by working.

The week started with Monday, and somebody called in sick, and somebody else was on vacation. Note to self, make rule about scheduling illnesses around the vacation of others. How rude, vacation, sickness, and now I am stuck doing things normally assigned to others. When will I have time for coffee

Tuesday, day two of the vacation, illness, missing work triangle. Things are looking bleak. Barely enough time to breath, hold on to the life vest, or you will sink like a stone. Remember to schedule a meeting for next week discussing the ultimate worthlessness of coworkers, if you live that long.

We might be safe here.
Wednesday, one person still on vacation, one person still sick, and one more person heads to paradise for a few days. Department laid bare, the facade of humanity is ripped away, and we are exposed for the savages we are. Beginning to turn on each other. Need to find convenient, effective, defendable location. While coworkers are trying to out flank each other, each attempting to gain the upper hand, I steal their snack foods, and drinking water. If I have a chance I will stab one in the back, and steal their shoes.

Don't know whether to run, or hide, try to find a way to do both.

Send a text message to wife, "if you don't see me again, we were great together, and I forgive you for making me act like an adult so often, I know you are sorry for all of your mistakes." Best to just ignore the response. She is probably just lashing out, buried under overwhelming sadness

Thursday, hey, is that the weekend I sense, There is a pleasant change in the wind, and a freshness. I think there is a smell of coffee and donuts in the air.

No, I don't think we can learn much, besides no point living in the past. It is already gone. Hey, everybody, it is almost party time. Man, I work with the best bunch of guys.F

Wednesday, August 19, 2015

ABhancer, take 1


+S. Bradley Stoner Here is the rough draft of the ABhancer ad. It needs a little work, and we have to talk to Kris, but, I think he lives in Texas, do we have anybody down there? For the music I thought we would go with something hip and trendy, until the realization I don't know anything, hip, or trendy. So I chose Wipeout, by the Surfaris, because I have been grooving on some surf guitar lately. Check it out,

The end needs some thin, happy people, but most of the thin people here are pretty cranky, probably hungry, so we may need somebody with some photoshop skills. And a sunset.


Tuesday, August 18, 2015

Insanity, it is commonplace.

Life is getting stranger almost daily. It is all a sane young man can do to maintain stability in the midst of all the madness. And madness it is, there is no doubt. Look around, read the newspaper, watch the news, have a conversation, but don't pay too much attention, or you will go insane.

"Bill Murray will appear in upcoming all female Ghostbusters reboot." Something seems a little off with that headline.  Maybe Bill Murray is trying to win a spot on Sport Center.

Tom Cruise is thinking of leaving the Church of Scientology but is concerned they will release embarrassing information. He has turned to Lisa Marie Presley, Daughter of the king of rock and roll, and ex wife of the king of pop, for help. She claims to have secret, possibly incriminating evidence concerning the church. Long live the daughter, and ex wife of the king.*

Recently, through a very elaborate, extensive and probably expensive experiment French and Spanish scientists nurtured to life a bucardo, or Pyrenean ibex. At one time thousands of these animals (resembling mountain goats) lived in the Pyrenees, the mountain range that divides France and Spain. Until they were hunted into extinction.

Unfortunately, the kid did not survive, it was born with a birth defect in the lung, and could not breath. Bringing back an extinct species,whether it is right or wrong, has happened. They will continue to improve the process until it works. De-extinction is the term they use. However, as one looks through the annals of history, mankind becomes much more intelligent, and technically able, but not really any smarter. With that in mind I am thinking of copy-writing the phrase re-extinction. I see an wealthy retirement.

In a field crowded with presidential hopefuls the man who is getting the most attention is advocating the construction of a wall to block foreign invaders. Not occupying armies, but foreigners invading in small groups, or individually. People are unabashedly enthusiastic about the idea. But, this has been attempted before, and history has shown that the Great Wall of China was not completely successful as a defensive structure, and it certainly was no match for a determined group who were not bound to horses. But, hope springs eternal, and there are many potential benefits as a tourist attraction, and the jobs created for construction and upkeep will be a boon. Let's hope they don't all go to immigrants.

Insanity is epidemic, and keeping a brave, smiling face it getting increasingly difficult. But, we have to, the world depends on us, bloggers, instagrammers, facebookers, tweeeters, linkedin, pinterest. It is a terrible burden, but we are the willing. Thanks, now get back to work.

*I need to thank +Jeremy Crow, leader of the Whacko Nation, and amazing storehouse of knowledge. I had made the horrendous mistake of confusing Lisa Marie and Priscilla, Sorry Elvis, I hope you can forgive me.

Saturday, August 15, 2015

Curse the luck, they saved the day, but ruined my Monday morning.

Today we are going to find a solution. First, of course, we need to define the problem. This is liable to require some careful analysis. Which will only come through thoughtful, cautious, deliberate contemplation of the current situation. And it is early, and the day is sunny, and bright, and wonderful, and the coffee is delicious, and we decided that sounded too difficult.

So, we are going to tell you about what happened yesterday. It was getting late in the afternoon, not quite time to leave, but not really enough time to start anything new, either. Sometimes that happens as early as Thursday, ("well, the weekend is coming, in 37 hours, I can't really answer my emails.") so I walked around a little bit.

It isn't this building, but it is similar,
 since it is "top secret" we will pretend.
We are located downtown in an old, tall, thin, but very long building, made of mostly red bricks, however it was built in several stages so the masonry work changes from front to back, three times. In a way, it seems kind of foolish, somebody built a four story building, and then added another four story building to the front of it, and then did it again. But, it does make for an interesting affect. Not that this has much to do with my story.

Anyway, we are not far from the convention center (which was designed and built to look like it was constructed at different times, from different materials, which makes for an odd appearance, but that is not important, sorry). Anyway, working that close to the convention center can provide some odd sights depending on who is using the facility.

So last night when I was cruising around avoiding responsibility, I looked out the window and saw a guy dressed up as Thor, the god of thunder. Kind of, he had a long red cape, and a Thor like hammer (Mjolnir, is the proper name) on his belt. At first I thought it wasn't Thor, because he was very thin, and wore jean shorts and a tank top.

But, I went to tell my co-worker, Bil, about it, and he said he saw Deadpool riding a skateboard when he went to lunch. He thought it was not really Deadpool because he only had the mask, not the whole uniform, if that is the proper term for the clothing of a cartoon hero, or villain, I'm not sure in which category Deadpool falls.

But, this did not strike either of us as all that strange, being so close to the convention center, with the weekend coming.

But, as I was driving home the Department of Transportation had shut down the freeway going into downtown. Which is odd, right before rush hour, and the weekend. And then I thought, what if that was Deadpool (who may be a bad guy) and Thor (who is a good guy) and they had one of the epic, building destroying, street closing, mess making, commute ruining battles, portrayed so well on the magic box. What then. It will take me forever to get to work Monday, dammit. I am afraid to turn on the TV.

Let me know if you have heard anything.

Thursday, August 13, 2015

Another reason to hate flying.

In a disturbing turn of events an airline is going to start weighing passengers. One more reason to hate flying. Apparently it has to do with flight safety. They don't want their precious planes carrying too much dead weight. While there is no mention of reaching a limit, or what they plan to do with the information, it seems natural they are going to stop letting people on at a certain point, or charge more above a certain threshold.

It is an incentive to lose some weight. Let's face it, it is bad enough you're carrying around a few extra pounds, and now you get bumped to a later flight. Worse than that it will be filled with a bunch of thin, fit, healthy people, eating kale, and drinking green crap. "no thanks, I'll just walk to South America."

Or, maybe they will allow you, but not your luggage. "OK, you can get on lardass, but you will need to buy new clothes."

But, if they insist on doing this it seems like they are stopping short of really taking advantage of the opportunity. They should screen your blood pressure, and serum cholesterol. Nobody wants to be on a flight with a potential heart attack or stroke victim, that would make flying even worse.

And what about a complete psychological workup. Crazy people are the least comfortable people to fly with. I have a pie chart, and a list proving the phenomenon.

But, this is only fair if they let the passengers have a say. We should be allowed to see what everybody else weighs, and the results of the Rorschach tests, particularly the pilots, and flight attendants. We know they are nuts, it would be nice to know the extent.

I have the perfect solution. Everybody who is scheduled to fly has to meet the day before and have dinner together. We can have the weigh ins, and the examinations as a group, Kind of a meet and greet, it could be fun. Something fun, the person with the highest LDL cholesterol gets a free bag of Pork Rinds. The heaviest person will

Back to School Precaution.

It is that time of year. Kids are going back to school, buses are cruising along, big, yellow, slow moving blobs, stopping constantly. Picking up children, stopping at railroad tracks, refusing to run yellow lights. What madness is this?

It never fails, you get behind a bus, and think it will turn at the next intersection, then you can open 'er up and make some time. But, when the bus turns dutifully at the next street, there is another bus in front of it. It never ends.

Stuck, plodding along, stopping, starting, inching, and cursing. And when you look up there are several small faces peering out the window. Worse, there are several fingers pointing. Next, the laughing, and you start thinking, man this is junior high all over again. And you start to worry that maybe your clothes are not very cool, or your hair is too long, or too short,or too messy.

"I am a captain of industry, at least a second lieutenant," you think, "I could buy and sell these kids. In fact, being a tax payer, I bought that bus. Those little ingrates." So you start pointing back, and laughing at them.

And since they are a bus full of immature little snots, they make a sign, that says something awful. You don't have to put up with that. You are a man of importance, and power.Scrambling frantically for something to fight back with and the only thing you can find is the registration for your car. That's fine, when was the last time you needed that, never.

So you grab a permanent marker, and start writing your rebuttal, you will show them, childish little brats! They don't know what a good insult is, but they will soon.

Unfortunately, the bus stopped to pick up more of the little punks, but you didn't notice, because you were just finishing the great bit about that kids goofy looking spider-man shirt.

Now, you are going to need that registration (and your license, and proof of insurance) and start to think maybe you should have used a pencil.

School is starting, be careful, and watch out for the little angels, and the back of the bus, and the law.


Tuesday, August 11, 2015

A unique opportunity, for a unique person.

OK, it is a pretty big deal to eat lettuce grown in space.  No space trip would be complete without a little extraterrestrial produce. Lettuce is a good start, you know the old hauntingly appropriate, yet oddly specific, saying "you can't make a space salad without growing some lettuce." Truly, our ability to travel to other worlds, visit other planets, and force our views, and systems of beliefs on the poor, hapless inhabitants, who need us to come save them from themselves, depends on food.

But, it is probably going to require a little more substantial than some greens, or in this case "outrageous reds" if we are going to be able to really "help" these poor innocent beings see the light. Or even worse, suppose we get there and there is nobody, and we have to do all of the work ourselves. We are going to need some real food.

Where most people see a problem we, here at Life Explained, see an opportunity. A chance to serve our fellow man, to serve him cheeseburgers, fries and a shake. We are opening a string of intergalactic restaurants for the deep space astronauts sent to "explore" the various worlds. Plus, we will have some wonderful tshirts, baseball hats, and refrigerator magnets. "I went to the outer reaches of the galaxy and all I got was this lousy tshirt, and the best burger of my life, at Bob's House o' Space Burgers."

Of course we will need to get the beef to these locations. We will need some self assured soul who can move some goods to various locations around the galaxy.

Since the times are liable to be considerable, and even space travelers deserve fresh food it would probably be wise to transport the protein substance in an upright position (i.e. standing) until approach. Of course, to keep the feelings of guilt and crushing remorse to a minimum it is best not to name the freight. But, that is your choice.

So, if you are looking for a good job, are a self starter who doesn't mind terrible introspective periods of solitude, and the loneliness and despair that only a solitary trip through deep space can provide, do we have an opening for you.

And don't forget our Interplanetary Food Service Job Fair tomorrow at the Lancaster County Fairgrounds. We will have coffee, donuts, and after you fill out the application you can keep the pen.*


*Offer available to the first 15 applicants only.

Monday, August 10, 2015

It is so hard to choose, ok bacon and eggs.

Choices are everywhere. It is a constant companion of life. It starts first thing, get up, hit the snooze button? Coffee, or tea, sausage or bacon, pancakes, or eggs? And it continues, non-stop. Should I do this awful task tomorrow, or the next day? By evening decisions have almost completely sapped the will to live. And then here comes the primary.

It starts slowly, a few candidates driving through Iowa. Stopping, glad handing, talking to local people. 

"It is time we wrestle our country back from the entrenched Washington elitist, power brokers. Bring power back to the people. It is time to restore the greatness of representative government"

Heck yeah, let's do it! Who's going to be the first one up against the wall?

"Hold on, that is not what I meant. Where is the nearest diner so we can get a picture of me eating some apple pie with God fearing, honest, decent, common folk?"


Soon, though, the thin veneer of civility is scraped away. The kid gloves come off, and the brass knuckles are put on. And things get mean. Eventually somebody will say something completely awful, and justify it by pointing out "I am not one who worries about being politically correct."*

That is when it starts, soon all the candidates are running from microphone to microphone, trying to be less politically correct than everybody else. Rudeness and incivility are virtue.

"At long last I have broken free from the oppressive yoke of political correctness! Casting aside the straight jacket brings the freedom to tell you the terrible truth about the lying, corrupt losers who would rob me of my throne."




Everybody would like to see a little more candor, and truth from the people who would be president. But, candor, and truth about their plans, their vision, the methods and means they would use to improve the country. But, once they have escaped from the confines of political correctness they are powerless to stop.

Then it comes full circle, liberated, and ready to rumble they point out how political correctness is ruining our country. It seems a little suspect. Imagine, for a minute, standing in line, at WalMart, and the person in front of you, who may have been in line since the last election, and has groceries, a DVD player, and a vacuum, finally gets to the register. Without so much as a hello, a smile, or a nod of the head the cashier starts scanning the items. The gallon of milk rings up at $75.00 dollars. Do you suppose, even for a minute, when you are being questioned by the police about the incident that you are going to say, "they were both so polite, the customer, and the employee, it was terrible." Probably not.

I am not exactly sure what it means to be politically correct, but unless it involves open hostility, anger, blame, and caustic indifference that is probably not really troubling most people too much. Stores, city streets, there is not an abundance of overt politeness anywhere.

* Of course the number and composure of candidates in this seasons "America's Got a Lot of Damned Gall" have accelerated the process.

Saturday, August 8, 2015

Dreams, food, and shoes. that about covers it.

We, here at Life Explained, are developing a machine to capture and interpret dreams. Using patented technologies that are so complicated, so technologically intensive we could never hope to explain the process. We were lucky to actually construct the silly thing. It was really kind of an accident. Dr. Dawg fell asleep with the remote and his Chardonnay spilled onto the DVR button, and his stethoscope got tangled up with the cable running to the WiFi router.

When we thought we were going to watch the news in the morning we ended up with a long, drawn out series of food, from scrambled eggs, bacon and toast to prime rib, potatoes au gratin, and apple pie a la mode.

We all sat there, stunned at the delicious parade of food that was cascading across the screen. People were scrambling for the refrigerator, or their phones to order something to eat.

Dr. Dawg said "Hey, those are my dreams from last night. How did they end up on television. And, would somebody find a county fair and get me some corn dogs?"

It only took us a few minutes to figure out what had happened. We were thrilled. This was the breakthrough we had been waiting for!


We jumped, immediately, into action, after getting something to eat. We wired up some diodes, a few sensors, and some wires and stuff, and got to work. Most difficult was writing the program to decode the hidden meaning buried deep in the vivid imagery that construct dreams. 

It didn't take long to figure it out, it was built in the classic C++ language.  Using the standard translation of constant comparison, and evaluation. Everything revolved a central core, with a standard for deviation, and symbolic reference. 

People couldn't wait, every associate signed up and we had to use a lottery to choose the order.

Turns out everybody, man, woman, dawg, all dream about the same things. Finding the right pair of shoes. Turns out that was drove most of the innovation throughout the history of man. You just can't be happy if your feet hurt, and if your shoes are comfortable, you don't really need much. 

Now that we know we can move onto more important things, maybe lunch.

Friday, August 7, 2015

Last Night, the Application Process Begins.

Since it is almost the weekend, and there are so many things going on we will make this brief. Today is not the time to find fault with the 10 candidates who were driven like cattle into Cleveland, and forced to confront their most profound insecurities last night.

Who among us has not been looking for a job in a cutthroat world of potential employees? We should take pity on these poor, lost souls who want nothing more than to earn a living an provide for their family. 

In many ways it saddens us, here at Life Explained, that with the popularity of "American Idol," "America's Got Talent," and others, that finding a decent job has turned into such a gladiatorial contest. Each potential associate having to defend a record of employment, and service, in front of a panel of indifferent, callous human resource personnel.

Imagine trying to land a job as a grocery bagger with the other applicants making snide comments about your oafish appearance, and the likelihood of you klutzing a whole container of cottage cheese onto the floor, watching it burst open, and make an awful mess, right in the middle of the rush for Thanksgiving. That would be awful. Who among us could handle that kind of pressure?

Oh, well that makes more sense. We really liked that guy with the hair, he could bag our groceries any time.

Thursday, August 6, 2015

Exercise, and You, and Me, and a Few of Our Friends.

In December of 2014 I decided to start going to the gym and exercising. My wife had a new job, and she was taking the stairs everyday instead of the elevator and walking every night, and had become noticeably happier, and more energetic. That was all the motivation necessary. So, off I went.

It was new, and being a little (or a lot) flaky made it uncomfortable. "Sweating with the strangers." But, I didn't give up. Week after week I would drag myself, sometimes unwillingly, to the small gym, and exercise. Soon, it became a treat, recreation. With a slight change in diet (mostly just more fruit, vegetables, and water) I started making real progress. Clothes that hadn't fit for a long time were comfortable, I felt better, happier, and I was hooked.

Then, I started reading the Health Whacko, and +Jeremy Crow's advice on exercise, and +Rachel Rennie's encouraging posts on determination, and choices, and the benefits were immediate, and manifold.

Now walking into the gym is fun, and walking out brings a sense of accomplishment. Of course, there are people who will try to lessen the experience by talking about the terrible experience, or injury they had working out. Or criticize the gym (it is small) and its lack of equipment. But, I don't care. My doctor actually smiled when he heard about the new routine. And there are many people who say "I wish I had time to work out," and I just tell them "so do I" but I leave off the part about how they might not be such a jerk. That wouldn't help.

If you are even considering beginning to exercise, do it. But first subscribe to the Health Whacko, it is a constant source of technique and encouragement.

Here a brief video tour of my gym.*  I didn't snap any photo's of the weight area, as there were several girls in workout clothes, and it might have been uncomfortable for all of us. I will add those later. So thank you Jeremy, and Rachel, I am happy to say I, too, am a Health Whacko.

*Thanks to Halftone the app, "Bad Moon Rising" thanks to 16 Horsepower, a band I love, but am never really sure why. They are very intense.

Wednesday, August 5, 2015

Wednesday, It Isn't Weekend, But It Isn't Monday, Either.

Today is Wednesday, and that means something here at Life Explained. It means the week is half over, and we have put the bad days (Monday and Tuesday) behind us. Monday stinks, positively reeks, you are faced with the prospect of 5 grueling days of toil, and labor, with no hope of escape. Tuesday is Monday without all of the pleasant afterglow of the weekend, so Tuesday is pretty smelly as well. But, Wednesday, that is a different beast.

Wednesday, the antechamber to the weekend. On Wednesday the coffee is a little crisper, and the air is a little cleaner. If you look hard enough you can see the weekend "ship of liberty on them iron waves so bold and free"* steaming in to your rescue. We love Wednesday. Too bad it only comes once a week, and we have to suffer through the hardships of the early week to get there.

One fine day, as we were drinking the tasteless, tepid coffee of a Monday, and trying to choke down the bagels of an oppressive work week, Bob, from R and D burst into the kitchen. Shaking with an excitement not normally seen until at least noon on Thursday, he said "I have solved our early week issues!"

"I have taken the digital clock from the rec room, wired it to the reactor core in the sub basement, and ran the whole thing through the time clock. Every Monday when the clock hits 9:00 AM, the whole company will shift to Wednesday, at 11:00."

"Why Wednesday, and why 11:00 AM?" Someone asked. The question was sincere, but the happiness at the prospect of skipping Monday and Tuesday was noticeable in the voice.

"I chose Wednesday, so we could have time to plan for the weekend, and 11:00 so we would have time to plan for lunch." That made perfect sense.

Everybody started scurrying around to account for the important things, like cancelling any vacation requests they had for Monday or Tuesday. No point in wasting them. And the coffee was tasting smooth.

Time travel, even in short, repetitive bursts, is tricky. Have you ever recorded a macro in Excel and thought it was beautiful. Taking the contents of several scattered cells, summing them and placing the total in a separate sheet, adding a touch of formatting for flair, and then printing it out. Life would be so much easier. Only you forgot to click the little "relative cell reference" box. Every time you ran the macro it added the same numbers from the same cells, making you and your computer look like complete morons. Time Travel can be like that.

So Monday, at 9:00 we moved to Wednesday at 11:00 and feasted. Using all of the lunch money we had saved from Monday and Tuesday to really make pigs of ourselves.  Then on Thursday, at 9;00 we ended on Wednesday, (the day before, not the next week, we think) at 11:00! This really screwed up a lot of vacation plans.

So, we disabled the digital clock, and the time clock, and our big plans, and suffer through the painful, dreadful days of the start of the work week. We gave Bob a little bonus for trying, but revoked his rec room privileges, he cost us a digital clock, after al;t
.

*From "Caribbean Wind" by Bob Dylan, Dr, Dawg says give it a listen.

Monday, August 3, 2015

Success, Yeah, ok, but where does it end?

There is no greater reward than a job well done.  It is the satisfaction of seeing a project through to the end, admiring all of the hard work that went into its completion, and knowing, deep inside, that it was made possible by a person's efforts.  It is an intoxicating, powerful, motivation.

Think, for a minute, of the men who build bridges. It is slow, tedious, difficult work, dirty, and often dangerous.  Often the conditions are cold, or hot, windy, or wet, and almost always uncomfortable.  But, when they are done, and they look at what they have accomplished they can say, "yeah, it's a nice bridge, big deal."  Construction workers are not widely recognized for their introspective, contemplative nature. And they amble off to the next bridge.

Maybe that was not such a good example, maybe, it is time to consider the author, toiling away at a word processor, hunched over a noisy, clicking keyboard, in front of a flickering, fading monitor, eyes glued to the letters marching across the screen.  Letters forming words, words grouping into sentences, sentences gathering into paragraphs, all in the dimly lit room.

There is a cup of tepid coffee in a chipped mug  from a local insurance agent who had retired years ago, and half of a bottle of warm water keeping guard on the right side of the metal desk, and half eaten peanut butter sandwich sitting right on the edge of a plastic plate, watching over the other.  When the last edit is finished, the last read through is done, and everything looks and flows just the way it should, he hardly even notices.  A new story is forming, and there are new avenues to explore, it is a never ending process of thinking, planning, typing and editing.  Maybe that is not the best choice, either.

What about a chef, or a baker, who strives to mix beauty, and taste, and aroma, into an irresistible work of art. Sitting regally, with just the right mixture of color and textures until it makes men weep, and women swoon, and then gets eaten, and followed by brandy, and conversation and tomorrow it has to be something new, something different. This might not be the best example, either.

Or maybe not. Maybe the best reward is not thinking too much about it.  Maybe we aren't meant to find happiness, satisfaction, or inner peace. Perhaps we are meant to reach for ever higher goals, until one day we fall short, and then we can find peace. Or, possibly we have been trying to hard. Why be a damned fool about this stuff. Let somebody else skin that chicken. We have already done so much.  It might be better to just relax, and settle for a little less.

Man, I feel better already.

Sunday, August 2, 2015

It was not my fault, not all of it, anyway

My aging is kind of a problem. For example my memory. It has improved so dramatically I remember things that didn't even happen. Man, I was a hero, epic and immortal. When things got bad, who did people call?  Well, you know the answer. Not really, mostly my memory is very unflattering, and it seems like I spent most of my life as a dork. But, that is fine, because it doesn't seem to be genetic. My sons seem to be able to manage in social situations. It, it one less thing to worry about, and life offers plenty of opportunities for concern.

  1. Phosphorous Deficiencies.
  2. Curly Top Virus.
  3. Flea Beetles
  4. Tobacco Hornworms
  5. Fusarium Wilt
  6. Bacterial Canker
  7. Catfacing
  8. Sunscald
And these are just if you are trying to grow tomatoes. Plants are pretty simple things and seemed relatively fool proof, until we decided to garden. 

Now, we have to check the soil acidity, and pH levels. Fertilizer, and water, and sweat, and tears, and they produce a few tasty, but small tomatoes. And then the plants wither and die. But, hope springs eternal, and every year we try.

This year it was two tomato plants and a pepper plant, and we killed them, poor plants. They aren't
dead yet, but they are fading fast. I feel awful. Poor, innocent plants, stuck in the ground, motionless, unable to escape, helpless against the coming catastrophe. I am not sure they understand the hopelessness of the situation.

Next year I might warn them, when we are picking them out, I might add, "this is a suicide mission, you will have no chance of success, and we are looking for volunteers. Any takers?" I will have to do this behind my wife's back, she still believes we might figure this out, and enjoy a bountiful harvest. Poor, innocent wife.

It might be kindness that kills the plants, it might be they need a little discipline. "Grow, damn you!" I don't know.

After looking at our plants our neighbor said we could have some of his tomatoes, a little charity is good for the soul, and the salad, and the bacon, lettuce, tomato sandwich. We will feast tonight.

Saturday, August 1, 2015

Life, aging, and senses.

We, here at Life Explained, have made an amazing discovery. We have found the Fountain of Youth, well, it was not exactly the Fountain of Youth, it was a fountain, it was a fountain, and there was some young people milling around, so we got a little confused, and hopeful. It happens when you get older, you know. Man, did security show up fast when we jumped in and started dancing around. Particularly when Bob, from Legal started grabbing the loose change that someone had accidentally dropped in the bottom.  We haven't given up, but it might be more plausible to build it instead.

It is an engineering nightmare. How does a person get the water from the bottom of the well to cascade decoratively down from fantastic heights. No, not really, the hard part will be figuring out the "Youth" formula.

 It will take a dedicated team of brilliant scientists working around the clock. Not stopping for meals, or sleep. Tireless, and unrelenting, these geniuses will need to combat exhaustion, hunger, and unbelievable obstacles. Hey, somebody should run and get some coffees. But, we are pretty confident we can develop the serum.

Of course, we need to make sure it just stops aging. It would be foolish to start turning back the process. Imagine world leaders, corporate giants and elected officials acting like a bunch of spoiled children. Behaving petulantly, lashing out in angry tantrums, unconcerned with the good of the common man...

Maybe we will start working on that interstellar vehicle. The earth is in good hands.