Time, the Enemy of Reason.

Tomorrow is the Day. Today is the day before the Day. Yesterday, of course was the day before today, but that doesn't really matter for the sake of this post. One thing that should be pointed out, though, is yesterday was Tuesday. Since Monday was Labor Day (Labour Day if you live in New Zealand, thanks for the information, Trina) Tuesday seemed an awful lot like Monday. Which makes today, which is Wednesday, have the general texture of Tuesday. Having Monday as a holiday is fine, great in fact, Monday as a blessing, but having Tuesday turn into Monday and throw the rest of the week into chaos is just not acceptable.

To make matters worse, if that is at all possible, I am leaving at 11:00 AM sharp tomorrow for Lake Hope, just my wife, our kayaks, and me, and a bottle of Pinot Noir, and possibly a bottle of Malbec. Not because of any great attraction to these two wines, but we happen to have a bottle of each on hand. Not that the wine really has anything to do with this post.

Let's recap, since we seem to have taken a wrong turn somewhere.

Monday was a holiday, which forced an atmosphere of Monday onto Tuesday. This, of course, pressed hard into Wednesday, making it feel frighteningly similar to Tuesday. I am taking a day off on Friday, making Thursday my de-facto Friday, and since it has to serve as Wednesday, and try to pull off some semblance of Thursday as well, and it will have to do it in 4 hours, since I am only working half of a day.

You can see my problem. I am dealing with a week shortened on both ends, and the chaos of trying to cram a weeks worth of obsessing about the passage of time in 2 1/2 days. The pressure is almost unbearable. I don't want you worrying about this, though, it is my job. Just go about business as normal, and I will get this straightened out.

Have a nice Wednesday, or Tuesday, or Thursday, or whatever the hell day it is. It should be a nice day, the weather in Fairbanks AK is mid sixties with a slight chance of rain. If you don't live in Fairbanks let me know, I always thought you looked like a person from Fairbanks. It's a small world.

Since we are going kayaking and I could not find any good kayaking poetry here is a nautical poem, short, sweet and full of imagery.

Sea Fever

BY JOHN MASEFIELD

I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,

And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by;

And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking,

And a grey mist on the sea’s face, and a grey dawn breaking.

 

I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide

Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied; 

And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,

And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

 

I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,

To the gull’s way and the whale’s way where the wind’s like a whetted knife;

And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,

And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick’s over.

Know your rights, and your wines.

Fake wines are a big problem. Well, it is probably real wine, it is just not the expensive wine advertised on the label. People all over the world are scampering down the stairs, to the wine cellar, trying to determine if their expensive, awful tasting snot wine is real or a forgery. Once down the stairs they realize they don’t have a wine cellar, and rush back upstairs to the wine fridge, tucked neatly between the sink and the pantry. They rip open the door to the mini fridge, and grab the bottle off the top, unscrew the lid and take a big swallow, “nope, it’s real,” they breath a sigh of relief. Well as long as it is out, might as well have a glass. Go ahead, use the Muppets take Manhattan plastic tumbler, it is a special occasion.

But suppose it would have been counterfeit, what are your options then? Well, you could take it back
to Walgreens, and try to get your money back. Odds are, though, they will not have an expert on staff. Sure the guy working the photo booth knows a thing or two about the grape, but he is part time, and sometimes he works in the back where he can’t be seen.

No, your best option is to hire a small army of mercenaries, head to the bottling plant in Syracuse, and demand your money back. We have taken the liberty of scouting the facility for you. It is an older building in a mostly industrial area. Brick walls and bars on the windows are going to make a siege the best option. We recommend sending in a team of saboteurs to empty all the food out of the refrigerator and disable the well stocked vending machine. Denying the enemy food makes a siege much more effective. With the rising costs of decent mercenaries you don’t want to wait any longer than necessary.

Wait until Friday, about 3:37. The production staff rushes out of there so quickly on Friday it is amazing. Honestly, they leave dust trails, scraps of paper following them out the door. Set up your siege ring, fire some tear gas through the bathroom windows, the accountant always sneaks in there for a smoke. March in to the office area, don’t bother going in the production area, you will only wake the custodian, and he gets so cranky, and demand your $2.97 plus tax.

Not only is it your right, it will teach them to try to charge a premium price for the cheap crap. You have standards, and the world will be a better place. It is kind of like a public service.

Saving Jeff hits a Snag, and Training saves the day.

The latest installment of a story that should have been allowed to die long ago. I would like to say a special thanks to +Mike Raven  for adding the delightful Part 7. It was wonderful, but, Jeff is going to be a little unhappy about the hole in his elbow

(If you haven't read all of the epic Saving Jeff series, don't delay, read now so you don't spoil this episode - part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, Part 6, Part 7 and part 8.)

Bob was not used to the TSA screening process. Military transports relied on brutal obedience for security. Needless to say Bob didn't understand bins, belts, and body scanners. 

He was hustled off to a small section cordoned off by screens, and temporary walls. They took his lighter, his bottle opener, and his cork screw. All of which served to anger Bob. But, the thing that really irked him was the callous, caustic disregard. 

When he finally got back to the boat he looked at the Leukocytes and said "I can't believe the way they treat people. Like common criminals. They just assume everybody is guilty. Who do those guys think they are?"

"Don't let it get to you." One of the Leukocytes said. "We have a long way to go. We took another guy up there a while ago. He was like you. A shrunken human. Maybe he can help us find the problem."

Bob relaxed, grabbed a bottle of Sauvignon blanc, and stretched out on the canopy over the cockpit. Only to realize he didn't have a cork screw. In boot camp they had taught him how to open wine in emergency situations, thank God. 

He smashed the bottle on the superstructure of the boat, breaking the top off, and leaving a jagged, razor sharp opening. Drinking deeply without cutting a single nick, he sighed and fell asleep. The bottle stayed upright in his hand and didn't lose a drop. There is no substitute for training.

Dinner Time

According to Reuters) - 

The thought of eating beetles, caterpillars and ants may give you the creeps, but the authors of a U.N. report published on Monday said the health benefits of consuming nutritious insects could help fight obesity.

More than 1,900 species of insects are eaten around the world, mainly in Africa and Asia, but people in the West generally turn their noses up at the likes of grasshoppers, termites and other crunchy fare.

The authors of the study by the Forestry Department, part of the U.N. Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO), said many insects contained the same amount of protein and minerals as meat and more healthy fats doctors recommend in balanced diets.

"In the West we have a cultural bias, and think that because insects come from developing countries, they cannot be good," said scientist Arnold van Huis from Wageningen University in the Netherlands, one of the authors of the report.

Eva Muller of the FAO said restaurants in Europe were starting to offer insect-based dishes, presenting them to diners as exotic delicacies.

Danish restaurant Noma, for example, crowned the world's best for three years running in one poll, is renowned for ingredients including ants and fermented grasshoppers.

As well as helping in the costly battle against obesity, which the World Health Organization estimates has nearly doubled since 1980 and affects around 500 million people, the report said insect farming was likely to be less land-dependent than traditional livestock and produce fewer greenhouse gases.

Van Huis said barriers to enjoying dishes such as bee larvae yoghurt were psychological - in a blind test carried out by his team, nine out of 10 people preferred meatballs made from roughly half meat and half mealworms to those made from meat.

So, there are many good reasons to eat insects, but the best is probably preventative.   Face it, bugs are always sneaking around, jumping out from behind things and scaring the livin' bejesus out of people.  If they see you slapping ol' Uncle Phil on a cracker with a slice of aged swiss and a glass of Pinot Grigio, they are going to be a lot less likely to hang out in your kitchen.  

Of course, etiquette is still very important, eating bugs is no excuse for acting like an animal.

The most important thing is selecting the correct wine.  You will look like an idiot if you try to serve a  Chardonay with a plate of caterpillars.  Any fool can tell you, and most of them will, that you need a nice Cabernet with any insect that has more than 10 legs.   Flying insects should be served with a Merlot, maybe something from Napa.

Of course the invitations need to include the type of insect you are planning on serving, and how it will be prepared.  That is only common courtesy.  

Remember, always serve insects that are in season, and never buy them out of the back of a truck at the gas station, there is nothing worse than serving your guests cheap, black market insects.  You don't know where they've been.

Enjoy, and remember you are saving the planet, as well as yourself.

Oops, we are sorry.

We, here at Life Explained, The Central US officeS (LETSCUSS (damnit)) have been hearing a lot of rumbling through back channels. Unofficial airwaves have been cluttered with rumors of a giant, secret, corporation running everything in the world.

Rumor has it this organization is manipulating energy, and food supplies, and prices, artificially inflating, and depressing certain stocks, altering the flow of capital, aid and material. All to achieve unknowable ends, and hidden goals.

People are being used daily, without their knowledge, allegedly, as the company they work for are responding to fictitious, and completely inaccurate market fluctuations, and forces, according to the unconfirmed reports. It has all the potential to be disastrous, in theory.

Embarrassingly enough, it turns out it was us. Please accept our humble apologies.

We have been running an AI (Artificial Intelligence) algorithm (math thing) to find the best deals on microwave food, specifically frozen burritos, and wine (delicious drink that goes well with frozen burritos).

A reenactment, not a real protestor

Unfortunately, when it can't find any deals within the target price range it begins altering reality, by inventing an artificial, on paper demand. This causes the producers of frozen burritos to ratchet up production. When they find the demand has mysteriously disappeared they are stuck with a surplus of product, forcing them to reduce the price. Same with wine.

Any action has a reaction, and prices and labor has fluctuated drastically in response.

We are sorry if this has caused any of any problem, please forgive us. We have shut off the routine that ran the program.  And if you are one of the picketers out in front, please come in and we can talk about it. Over a tasty microwaved burrito, and a glass of wine, on us.

Life Explained, the Christmas Party.

We, here at Life Explained, Ohio Office (LEOhiO) are very excited. It is almost time for our Christmas Party Extraordinaire. Every year it is huge. And we always seem to come up with some great stories.

Six years ago, for example, we used frozen rocks from the surface of Mars for our drinks. Martian Rocks from the surface of Mars for drinks! It was great. Unfortunately all of that talk about Life on Mars turned out to be true. And it turned out to be lying dormant on the surface of the rocks. When exposed to good bourbon it was reinvigorated, grew to human sized proportions, and went on a drunken binge. It destroyed the kitchen, the lunch room, the copier, the microwave and the executive restroom before we managed containment.

We managed it to sell it to the Pentagon for a tidy profit, even after we replaced the bourbon. Last we heard the Martian life form had been promoted to Colonel, and was running a supply base in the Caribbean somewhere. He still sends us Christmas cards.

Then last year Bob, from Acquisitions had too much Pinot Noir, and started to walk around pretending he was a drunk from the past. He put a lamp shade on his head, and paraded around singing what we thought was White Christmas.

But, he forgot to take the lamp out from underneath the lamp shade. The lamp, and base, and lampshade made Bob about 9 foot tall. Our doors are 8 foot high, so when he hit the part of the wall over the door, the glass base exploded, slicing into the electric cord. Sparks were flying everywhere. It set Bob's sweater on fire, and we poured a pitcher of Sangria over the top of him to extinguish the flames. Since he wrapped up in the cord (we are adamant about teaching "stop, drop and roll" before every party) the liquid shorted out the electrical system for the whole building.

When this bought down NORAD, and grounded all of the AWAC planes all over the Northern Hemisphere (don't ask, we are not allowed to tell you) we got a pretty angry call from the Chairman of The Joint Chiefs of Staff.

"Next time you morons have a party and don't tell me you can expect a few party crashers from Seal Team Six." he said. That would be awful, those guys don't know how to mix a drink to save their lives. And forget about having any Nachos, Seals are voracious around cheese covered chips.

Anyway, the party is next week, and we are sending Bob, from HR back in time to get some French wine, and German beer. It will be great.

A Friday Commute, With Emphasis

Traffic was heavy on my way home from work tonight. I left work a little late, that is always trouble. And there was a very light rain, and that really bogs things down. But, it is Friday, and life has to try pretty hard to ruin the jubilation a weekend brings.

Shuffle was working in harmony with the traffic, keeping perfect time with the ebb and flow of the commute. We were cruising.

Behind me was a Suzuki XL7, silver, with a personalized plate, "GRANMA1" Two older women were chatting amiably, casually in the front seat, and it looked like there were a couple more elderly ladies behind them. Everything was slow, but moving, a live version of Maggie's Farm was playing, and it was great.

Soon, though, the gentle, kindly ladies in the car behind me were starting to get a little anxious. They were swerving into the median to see if things were starting to break up ahead, but it was a solid, slow moving parade as far as could be seen.

When I looked in my rear view mirror I could see them passing wine, drinking right from the bottle, and lighting cigarettes using a can of sterno. The passenger opened a 16 ounce can of beer. She rolled down her window, and flipped the bird to the truck driver stuck beside them.

From their aggressive maneuvers (falling back and then speeding to catch up, almost hitting my car)
it was obvious they were becoming impatient. When the COTA bus cruised past in the median it was more than they could bear.

Jamming their car into the shoulder right behind the bus the driver stomped onto the accelerator and slammed into the bumper. The passenger threw an empty quart beer bottle at the back of the bus.

Central Ohio bus drivers are trained professionals and know how to deal with threats. From the drivers window a mostly empty bourbon bottle described a perfect arc over the top of the bus, and landed almost exactly in the center of the Suzuki's windshield. It was a terrible sound as the windshield cracked and split.

A tremendous kick from the passenger drove the ruined windscreen out of the car and onto the side of the road. It made it easier to open fire on the defiant bus.

In fear for their lives the passengers on the bus returned fire, It was hard to say which was worse the noise, the stench, or the potential traffic jam that could result from this exchange, delaying the commute for hours.

As they drove out of sight, still in the median, still moving much faster than the rest of us, I saw the passenger and both "ladies" from the back seat scrambling out the hole where the front window used to be, jumping on the bus, and throwing tear gas grenades into the holes the gunfire had opened.

A Sunday for the Ages

Today is huge. A day of momentous importance. Today is the first annual, Life Explained (#lifeexplained) Stupendous Bowl World Championship. We have been working, struggling, fighting, clawing, and even playing a little football, to reach this day. It was a season of ups, downs, highs, lows, even a few middle of the road, unexceptional, averages, even some completely sub mediocres. But, it was a quite a race, and we are left with two teams, each wanting to walk away with the crown. Each wanting to win the coveted title, each wanting to wear the coveted sash proclaiming them Miss Life Explained… Wait, hold on, that is not until next September. But, this is almost as vicious.

 
Since it is so cold outside, we are playing indoors, and since we don't have a covered stadium we are cleared out the break room. It is pretty big, not football field big, but pretty big. We had to let some of the air out of the footballs (a big thanks to friend of the blog Bill Belichick, who once said "winning isn't everything, if you're a loser" for that tip).

 
After installing some bleachers, benches for the teams, several concession stands, a lot of beer vendors (a lot), locker rooms, a press box, a stage for the half time show, luxury boxes, and a jumbotron for replays, and commercials we discovered the break room was not nearly as big as we thought. Painting the lines on the floor we realized we would have to play on a field the size of a table.  While that would make for a very high scoring game there might be an unacceptably high number of injuries to the spectators, cheerleaders, sideline reporters, camera crews, international celebrities granted passes, and custodians who were dead set against this right from the beginning and only acquiesced when given assistant coaching gigs, complete with headsets, and clipboards.

Since good custodians are almost impossible to find in this high-tech, namby pamby world of geeks and nerds we decided to cancel the game. Instead we were going to crown the Life Explained Stupendous Bowl World Championship on a series of board games. Unfortunately, nobody here knows how to play any board games, except for a few of the I.T. guys who are going to a comic book convention, and will be unavailable for the competition. They refused to lend us any of their board games after the Wine Tasting, Fantasy Football Draft fiasco.

If it hadn't been for police intervention somebody might have died. When Bob, from the infirmary stood up and tried to draft the 1^st Cavalry the place erupted. People were trying to draft increasingly lethal entities. Everybody was arguing about who would win between Spider Man, and Bat Man, who was tougher, Dracula, or Frankenstein's Monster. Several expensive, graphing calculators were destroyed when the I.T. guys leaped on the backs of the guys from accounting, because they were drinking Chardonnay right out of the bottle, which was more than they could take. After that it got crazy.

We decided playing real football might be safer, and started a league. It was a good season, and there was a lot of drama. We really didn't think the finals through very well. Next year we are headed for the Bahamas for the post season. We have reserved the biggest room on the island for the games. We are selling tickets already, if you are interested.  This year we are just going to flip a coin, but it will be televised, live.  And, they are taking bets in Las Vegas.

Round 1 Goes to the Spider.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jungle Jim's a grocery destination.

Recently we were lucky enough to find ourselves in Cincinnati, a wonderful city, built in the hills right beside the Ohio river in southwestern Ohio.  It is a bustling, beautiful place with many great attractions, including the Reds and the Bengals, right across the river is the Newport Aquarium, a wonderful zoological park, and not to be missed.   But, when you are in Cincinnati you have to visit Jungle Jim's Food Supermarket.

In a world of mass marketeers, warehouse clubs, and huge
homogeneous chains of identical buildings filled with shelves that were all pulled from the same marketing formulas, (reducing shoppers to an integer in an equation with a predictable outcome) Jungle Jim's market is breath of fresh, wild, untamed, well stocked air.  Complete with a State Liquor Store, ah what could be better?




This is clearly a place with some serious grocery MOJO.  It has a pair of gorillas holding a sign that says it all "FOODIE ENTRANCE."  And inside there is a dizzying variety of ethnic foods.  You can buy 50 pound bags of rice, and gallon jugs of Tabasco sauce, rubs, marinades cooking supplies, and enough soft drinks and not so soft drinks wash it all down, whatever your taste.




You get an idea that the shopping experience is going to be a little unusual when you first walk in (if you are at the "new" location, if you end up at the original you need to walk a little) and see the restroom.  They have the appearance of a Porta-Potty.  No matter how you potty, that is kind of cool.  And, if you don't believe that check out the sign (one of two) detailing where the bathrooms have been discussed on TV.  They have actually won "America's Best Restroom," and most people didn't even know that anybody rated those things.  Having been to Wall Drug, another famous store, let me tell you, these bathrooms are better.

Of course, the coolness does not end when you exit the restroom.  There is a travel camper on a platform above a display of snack crackers.  Which, in itself is kind of cool, but, that is only the beginning, the camper is adorned with flowery 60's style artwork, and looking out the windows on one side are pictures of Bob Dylan, and, Joan Baez, looking out the lonely window on the other side is the image of John Lennon.




 Looking out the back window are Richard and Pat Nixon.  Sadly, I did not get a picture of that, probably to placate my deceased, beloved Mother, who watched the Watergate Hearings with the fierce intensity of the truly, politically agitated.  This one's (more accurately, the lack of this one is) for you Mom!

Of course, there is a fire truck at the entrance to the Hot Sauce department, which is huge, and well stocked.  And a boat at the entrance to the seafood department.  Which is large and smells a lot like fish.  So, we got out of there pretty quickly.

A pretend tomb of somebody
who had something to do with
wine.  And, it talked!

And there is a variety of beer and wine, so large it would be almost impossible to choose`.  As we were looking at a display of something, the product escapes me, several burly, rough looking young men walked past, they were wearing shirts with football and baseball related insignia, and were talking, in loud, unabashed voices, cursing, and acting very macho, as young men might.  They seemed naturals for the liquor store, or beer display but they headed right for the imported wines and began speaking in hushed tones about the differences between French, German, and Italian wines.  It was so tempting to wait and see if they decided on the Pinot Noir from the Rhein Valley, the Chablis from Bourgogne or the Cabernet Sauvingon from Bardolino.  But, when they started into what fruit and cheese would go best with each I knew they were in for a long, trying debate, and I am too old for something so heated.

But, our trip was over and we had to return home, with some beer, a few pastries, a can of tomato's (my wife has an addiction) and some fond memories.  Thank you, Jungle Jim's, it was a gas, and we will be back.