Choices

Life is a series of choices. Each affecting the next. One decision with branches too diverse and numerous to imagine. Every "fork in the road" leading to another choice. There is no way to be certain where you would be right now if you had made a different option in any of hundreds of seemingly inconsequential choices in your life. Everything you do affects everything that follows. Alternatively, everything might be predetermined, destiny driven, scripted, nothing left to chance. How boring that makes things.

It seems much more exciting to pull up to the stop light, just as it switches from green to yellow, and think should I hurry? Should I speed through? If I do, I might get a ticket, my insurance rates will go up, It will be more difficult to buy groceries, our kids will go hungry, eventually we will have to sneak over to the Metro Park and hunt turkey, squirrel and rabbit, maybe take a few picnic baskets. But, if I don't get pulled over then I can get home before my wife, and I will have the power to decide what we have for dinner.

But, if everything is predetermined, mapped out ahead of time by fate, or God, or the programming skills of some long dead alien race then dinner has already been decided, taco Tuesday is not just a saying but a law. That isn't much fun. Who wants to live like that?

Existence is much more tolerable if you can view every decision as a dangerous gamble. Should I cut the blue wire, or the green wire? A full throttle thrill ride, every menu option a potential descent into the abyss. Or the one move that will vault you into greatness, fame, fortune and anything you want for dinner. The unbridled thrill of eating your dessert first.

That, my friends, is the way life should be lived. Fast and loose, risky, foolish and fun. Coffee or tea, because it could make all the difference in the world.

And the Beat Goes On.

It was only a matter of time before somebody found out. And when they found out it was probably going to make somebody angry. And when they got angry it was going to spill over onto the others, and soon the whole place was going to melt down into chaos, confusion and potential violence.

Almost predictably, it was the sales staff that blew up first.

A chair flew out into the hallway, followed by an unearthly screech, laden with profanity, enough swearing to make a pirate blush. It didn't take long until the sales associates stormed the Marketing department, taking seven hostages. They demanding an increased commission on the newest Youth Rejuvenating Face Cream, and a cappuccino machine.

In a surprising act of brotherhood the shipping and receiving department grabbed two forklifts from the warehouse and put all of the office workers cars on the roof. Swearing they would stay there until the sales staff's demands were met, and the company agreed to buy fresh donuts every Friday.

Corporate negotiators arrived armed with leather brief cases, Gucci suits, expensive Italian shoes, and some of the nicest watches anybody had ever seen. Everybody had ample time to see the watches, because the negotiators kept glancing at them. As though they were late for something more pressing than the release of seven hostages in the Marketing department.

After hours of tense meetings, thinly veiled threats, and some of the most delicious pizza the company any of them could remember negotiations broke down. They were all confused about what to do next so they agreed to go back to work, and pay for the broken chair.

The Chairman sent a note thanking everybody, and everybody got a nice gift card to a local grocery store and a pint of Rejuvenating Cream. Everybody was happy, except the custodial staff, who were excluded from the negotiations, and didn't get any pizza.

In the Janitor's closet you could hear the ends of the wooden broom handles being whittled to a fine point, the scrape of chalk across a board as plans were drawn up. You could smell the anger, see it bubbling from under the plain, gray steel door.

They burst from the room, a rising tide of second shift fury ready to ransack the building leaving a mess that could never be cleaned. On a cart right outside the door they found a box of fresh fruit, and a carafe of freshly ground, freshly brewed hot coffee, and a small pitcher of fresh cream.

They looked up and down the narrow, dimly lit hall but no one was there. After having some fruit, and coffee they felt a little foolish, and went to work. The building had never been cleaner.

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

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?

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.