Monday, February 28, 2011
After Two Days of Trial and Error
While I'm smoking this funny technology called the tablet, rep'd by the iPad, here are the apps we've downloaded/purchased so far:
One final note: wireless dropouts, what's up with that?
- Friendly for facebook
- TWC MAX+
- Fly Delta
- Yelp
- Fandango
- XFINITY TV
- TV.com
- Star Walk
- Potshots - Love
One final note: wireless dropouts, what's up with that?
When Producers Are No Longer Worth Their Weight In Risk Taking
What are you really worth?
Prove to me you fully support free speech and I'll believe you believe in the American way. Otherwise, any company policy or personal attack on others proves to me you're lying.
So far, the producers/network behind a show I've never watched are showing me they're bigots of another sort.
Time for my network to expose the lifestyles of the producers/network execs and show you why they're afraid of a single actor.
Prove to me you fully support free speech and I'll believe you believe in the American way. Otherwise, any company policy or personal attack on others proves to me you're lying.
So far, the producers/network behind a show I've never watched are showing me they're bigots of another sort.
Time for my network to expose the lifestyles of the producers/network execs and show you why they're afraid of a single actor.
There was a time, long ago...
...when I wanted to see my name in writing.
I forgot to tell myself to want to see my name in writing after my writing saw an editor and proofreader.
The ABNA judges were kind. So was Publishers Weekly.
I kindly returned to the woods and wrote about words, instead.
I forgot to tell myself to want to see my name in writing after my writing saw an editor and proofreader.
The ABNA judges were kind. So was Publishers Weekly.
I kindly returned to the woods and wrote about words, instead.
Hermitically Sealed
Normally, I would sit in the front bedroom, look out the window at the squirrels and the crows, open my Italian leather-wrapped handmade paper journal, and write.
Instead, I waste energy on myself, listening to Bach on Pandora Internet radio playing through a set of Boston Acoustic speakers in one room, and through a surround sound system in another room at the same time, to boost my mood.
The outdoorsman is absent today.
The well-placed writer absorbs and reflects.
A result/tool of the society/sub/culture within the framework of living fractal patterns.
Trying to tune out echoes to promote something approaching originality.
Tired of living or tired of making a living?
Keeping orchids and birds of paradise alive.
Buried under the piles of virtual dust of previous lives.
Avoiding caricature of self long lost in cardboard cutouts curiously curling in corner curio cabinets.
Do you dare dare your favourite deity to show itself?
Unaware that alliteration is your deity's favourite display of delightful dervish whirling?
A hermit, digging ditches, watching a hawk miss a squirrelly meal by inches.
Instead, I waste energy on myself, listening to Bach on Pandora Internet radio playing through a set of Boston Acoustic speakers in one room, and through a surround sound system in another room at the same time, to boost my mood.
The outdoorsman is absent today.
The well-placed writer absorbs and reflects.
A result/tool of the society/sub/culture within the framework of living fractal patterns.
Trying to tune out echoes to promote something approaching originality.
Tired of living or tired of making a living?
Keeping orchids and birds of paradise alive.
Buried under the piles of virtual dust of previous lives.
Avoiding caricature of self long lost in cardboard cutouts curiously curling in corner curio cabinets.
Do you dare dare your favourite deity to show itself?
Unaware that alliteration is your deity's favourite display of delightful dervish whirling?
A hermit, digging ditches, watching a hawk miss a squirrelly meal by inches.
The Simplicity of Beauty
Tall, slender trees with tiny emerging leaves swaying in the winds of a wave of passing thunderstorms.
Prelude and Fugue No. 7 in E-flat major, from Das Wohltemperierte Klavier, Book 1, by Johann Sebastien Bach, played by Sviatoslav Richter.
What am I in comparison?
Today, I died a happy man once again.
Once again, I will be born to live happiness all over tomorrow.
Once again, once is never enough.
Prelude and Fugue No. 7 in E-flat major, from Das Wohltemperierte Klavier, Book 1, by Johann Sebastien Bach, played by Sviatoslav Richter.
What am I in comparison?
Today, I died a happy man once again.
Once again, I will be born to live happiness all over tomorrow.
Once again, once is never enough.
To those who claim to speak for the anonymous
Casual rule: if you're going to set both sides against the middle, don't announce your plans.
You know, like groups that stake claims for terrorist acts - only the officially-approved terrorist groups are going to get credit.
Can someone take over this species for a while? Running the parallel universe of a blog is pretentiously limiting.
You'd think that seven billion different personalities (based off a small set of personality/cultural types) would be enough to keep me entertained.
Instead, like the way I figured out how to create, using standard test forms, unique tests for every student in my classes, having fun watching students try to cheat off one another and failing because they did not know that the set and/or order of questions was different (one of my favourite tricks was putting a "not" in the middle of some students' true/false questions and not others), I have found that, creating a bunch of these parallel blogs across the Internet, with paragraphs rearranged and sentence structure/logic tailored to subcultures/languages, the pebbles in the pond are creating a stone island and artificial reefs.
Too bad the environment is too hot to produce a new tropical paradise in the tropics. Canadian beaches are cheap and ready for reef development if you don't mind winters that are still a little cold today.
I stir the pot after computing all the possible chemical interactions, allowing for random changes due to quantum effects I don't measure.
If you're going to buy a laptop computer in which the memory (HD/SSD) has been wiped clean, don't go around asking strangers about installing your own illegal copy of an OS - you stand out like a sour gumball.
Can I talk about what you can't see or face the facts there's not a language that'll explain to our combination of states of energy what states of energy are really all about?
You know, like groups that stake claims for terrorist acts - only the officially-approved terrorist groups are going to get credit.
Can someone take over this species for a while? Running the parallel universe of a blog is pretentiously limiting.
You'd think that seven billion different personalities (based off a small set of personality/cultural types) would be enough to keep me entertained.
Instead, like the way I figured out how to create, using standard test forms, unique tests for every student in my classes, having fun watching students try to cheat off one another and failing because they did not know that the set and/or order of questions was different (one of my favourite tricks was putting a "not" in the middle of some students' true/false questions and not others), I have found that, creating a bunch of these parallel blogs across the Internet, with paragraphs rearranged and sentence structure/logic tailored to subcultures/languages, the pebbles in the pond are creating a stone island and artificial reefs.
Too bad the environment is too hot to produce a new tropical paradise in the tropics. Canadian beaches are cheap and ready for reef development if you don't mind winters that are still a little cold today.
I stir the pot after computing all the possible chemical interactions, allowing for random changes due to quantum effects I don't measure.
If you're going to buy a laptop computer in which the memory (HD/SSD) has been wiped clean, don't go around asking strangers about installing your own illegal copy of an OS - you stand out like a sour gumball.
Can I talk about what you can't see or face the facts there's not a language that'll explain to our combination of states of energy what states of energy are really all about?
For outdoor use in bright sunlight. Do not use for any other purpose.
Getting out of the "broken man" mode and back into a meditative state.
Humble.
Letting the bombardment of contradictory mental images pass through these states of energy without filtering, interpreting or slowing down in any other fashion.
No role to play.
Release.
Calm.
Listening without hearing.
Nothing to say.
One of those days.
Humble.
Letting the bombardment of contradictory mental images pass through these states of energy without filtering, interpreting or slowing down in any other fashion.
No role to play.
Release.
Calm.
Listening without hearing.
Nothing to say.
One of those days.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Humour In Medicinal Cures
Lack of evidence is...well, lack of evidence.
But, don't stop believing if it keeps you going.
Have fun along the way, of course.
Earth is flat - it's curved space that makes us...uh...
Where's a good punchline when you need to be nice?
But, don't stop believing if it keeps you going.
Have fun along the way, of course.
Earth is flat - it's curved space that makes us...uh...
Where's a good punchline when you need to be nice?
A Backward Look Forward
A Nod to Jimmy
Okay, Jimmy, I'll give you your multiple NASCAR championships in a row, with congrats to you, your crew chief and your crew.
Of course, a big YEE-HAW to the Golden One on a victory today - I wore muh Jeff Gordon jacket yesterdy and it paid off.
Time for a chug o' Pepsi and a chaw of that brownie I made fer muh wife.
Of course, a big YEE-HAW to the Golden One on a victory today - I wore muh Jeff Gordon jacket yesterdy and it paid off.
Time for a chug o' Pepsi and a chaw of that brownie I made fer muh wife.
Tick Season Has Started
A train to the Moon. It's a ride the few and proud will enjoy, and many see.
Matias half-keyboard app for tablets/smartphones
Reconstructing my childhood, not only from shared memories my parents, sister, aunts, uncles and cousins carry, but also from shared cultural images, can make one wonder why one ever thought there was one in the first place.
One no longer is one.
So few of us are left to know what growing your own food is like that our civilisation has taken the same wrong turn again.
Will we ever learn?
Will we ever stop listening to those whose vested interests clash with ours because they are willing to state bold-faced lies to get what they want?
I believe in the power of the species to find a new path, even if history is against us.
I have this belief because I know I do not exist.
At the same time, I feel weighed down with despair and hopelessness because so many billions of us are led astray so easily.
I am Example No. 1, par excellence.
Therefore, I have joined the walking dead and no longer exist.
The cycle is completed once again.
I have no death to look forward to ending this life that has not reproduced itself.
Thus, I am happy to be alive, if you see where this logic is going.
Nothing left to lose.
Nothing desired to gain.
A walk in the woods like attending worship service, with bird song, leaves sprouting in spring and sunshine preaching to the choir.
The universe is.
That's all that matters today.
The truth, or what most people don't care to know that is here in front of their imaginary personalities, can wait to be told another day.
I have a personal journey to attend to - the species can observe and/or follow if it desires - I have my imperfections to enjoy at my own leisurely pace.
States of energy, let's have some label-free fun, okay?!
One no longer is one.
So few of us are left to know what growing your own food is like that our civilisation has taken the same wrong turn again.
Will we ever learn?
Will we ever stop listening to those whose vested interests clash with ours because they are willing to state bold-faced lies to get what they want?
I believe in the power of the species to find a new path, even if history is against us.
I have this belief because I know I do not exist.
At the same time, I feel weighed down with despair and hopelessness because so many billions of us are led astray so easily.
I am Example No. 1, par excellence.
Therefore, I have joined the walking dead and no longer exist.
The cycle is completed once again.
I have no death to look forward to ending this life that has not reproduced itself.
Thus, I am happy to be alive, if you see where this logic is going.
Nothing left to lose.
Nothing desired to gain.
A walk in the woods like attending worship service, with bird song, leaves sprouting in spring and sunshine preaching to the choir.
The universe is.
That's all that matters today.
The truth, or what most people don't care to know that is here in front of their imaginary personalities, can wait to be told another day.
I have a personal journey to attend to - the species can observe and/or follow if it desires - I have my imperfections to enjoy at my own leisurely pace.
States of energy, let's have some label-free fun, okay?!
Saturday, February 26, 2011
What do you know about brothers who go click and clack near Gentle Store in Limrock, Alabama?
I was scraping the skunk junk off my junk sailing between Eris and Sedna on a junket to decide if Jimmy Dykes and Brad Nessler influenced the outcome of my bookie's income because of what happened to Walker in the fourth grade.
Knit 1, PEARL10.
Thanks to Josh at Hiley VW for cleaning his father's Ford Explorer Sport Trac.
Thanks to the Rite Aid pharmacist who recognised us at McCutcheon's Magnolia House Restaurant. The owner of the restaurant told us she'd taught dance at UTK for 37 years and was sad to see the university end the dance program. However, she was glad to be back in the house where she and her brother grew up after her grandmother died. Honey, there ain't nothin' like good ol' fashioned Southern comfort comfort food!
The owner of Keepsakes Scrapbooking, Gifts & Antiques, who had opened the store as a "project" for her daughter, whose divorce led her to get a fulltime job and away from assisting her mother, has run the store for seven years and looks forward to the day when the economy picks up and she can sell the store for what it's really worth, having made no profit for the last two years. Oy vey!
Meanwhile, last Saturday at UBC, a new sales record was set, with 300 more transactions than the busiest business day (not counting the ski sales). A thanks to the ever-smiling, beautiful/handsome faces of Gail, Brittany, Pam W., Janet G., Aaron, Josh and Samantha. Oh yes!
I don't know which made me happier today, the May 1962 copy of Boy's Life for $19.99 at Keepsakes, or the 64GB Apple iPad for $620.99 at UBC (the lesser bargain of the two correction: it was/is a better bargain).
I wonder out loud here. If, in the past, some xx% of marriages were basically women being slaves to men and children, does that account for the fact that only 40% of people today see value in the partnership that marriage is supposed to be?
Like a friend of mine told her ex-husband and son, "I don't care where your clothes are or what you want for dinner because you don't care about the kind of day I had."
Labels are not excuses for the way we treat one another. Rude or disrespectful behaviour is indicative of your character and not something that is allowed because of a title or role you pretend to carry around with you like a badge.
Like Steve Jobs said, one day you're going to wake up and realise that you really are going to die one day.
Today is the first day of the last days of your life together with the rest of us.
I'm exposing the emperor's new clothes from now on even if it's the nonpaid role I've assigned myself because all I'm going to do is die one day...
...because all our species is going to do is suffer another lost civilisation and if we're lucky we'll leave enough clues for the next civilisation to make better progress the next time.
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.
In my opinion, political boundaries don't exist anymore. Mexican military forces are said to invade our land while Chinese/Russian satellites invade our space and we do nothing in return. Canadian spies come and go and we say nothing, too.
If a person can run a pet cremation business and make a profit, then I'm sure Humpty Dumpty can be put back together again.
Janet, you repeated over and over the name of your son's agribusiness specialty of landscaping and lawn care. Avast? Avert? Avant? I can't remember. May his Twickenham, Ledges and other neighbourhood work keep him busy, if not making a living wage - it's happening to all of us, as can been seen by empty shopping centres from here to California and back.
When your cities and towns are the gold rush that spiked and collapsed, what's next?
Stay tuned.
The Book of the Future actually has good things to say about our continuously-moving moment together.
I didn't say easy. Good.
You'll see.
Just like Claire saw the old Chattanooga Choo-Choo train station for the very first time. Wish I coulda been there, Claire. Life is full of eye-opening experiences.
Could Jeff Gordon win tomorrow?
Did the guy at UBC buy the iPod Touch so he could add a Tom-Tom GPS unit and CoPilot Live?
Who has correctly predicted the cricket champ?
Will the forces of free enterprises win for the people or for the...
[Please recharge your battery at this time to continue enjoying the free Internet service we provided in exchange for promoting us]
Yes, Laurie Anderson, we are all going down together but it's going to be a glorious ride! Buckle up! The weather's calling your name! Got your fishing poles and tackle box ready?
Knit 1, PEARL10.
Thanks to Josh at Hiley VW for cleaning his father's Ford Explorer Sport Trac.
Thanks to the Rite Aid pharmacist who recognised us at McCutcheon's Magnolia House Restaurant. The owner of the restaurant told us she'd taught dance at UTK for 37 years and was sad to see the university end the dance program. However, she was glad to be back in the house where she and her brother grew up after her grandmother died. Honey, there ain't nothin' like good ol' fashioned Southern comfort comfort food!
The owner of Keepsakes Scrapbooking, Gifts & Antiques, who had opened the store as a "project" for her daughter, whose divorce led her to get a fulltime job and away from assisting her mother, has run the store for seven years and looks forward to the day when the economy picks up and she can sell the store for what it's really worth, having made no profit for the last two years. Oy vey!
Meanwhile, last Saturday at UBC, a new sales record was set, with 300 more transactions than the busiest business day (not counting the ski sales). A thanks to the ever-smiling, beautiful/handsome faces of Gail, Brittany, Pam W., Janet G., Aaron, Josh and Samantha. Oh yes!
I don't know which made me happier today, the May 1962 copy of Boy's Life for $19.99 at Keepsakes, or the 64GB Apple iPad for $620.99 at UBC (
I wonder out loud here. If, in the past, some xx% of marriages were basically women being slaves to men and children, does that account for the fact that only 40% of people today see value in the partnership that marriage is supposed to be?
Like a friend of mine told her ex-husband and son, "I don't care where your clothes are or what you want for dinner because you don't care about the kind of day I had."
Labels are not excuses for the way we treat one another. Rude or disrespectful behaviour is indicative of your character and not something that is allowed because of a title or role you pretend to carry around with you like a badge.
Like Steve Jobs said, one day you're going to wake up and realise that you really are going to die one day.
Today is the first day of the last days of your life together with the rest of us.
I'm exposing the emperor's new clothes from now on even if it's the nonpaid role I've assigned myself because all I'm going to do is die one day...
...because all our species is going to do is suffer another lost civilisation and if we're lucky we'll leave enough clues for the next civilisation to make better progress the next time.
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.
In my opinion, political boundaries don't exist anymore. Mexican military forces are said to invade our land while Chinese/Russian satellites invade our space and we do nothing in return. Canadian spies come and go and we say nothing, too.
If a person can run a pet cremation business and make a profit, then I'm sure Humpty Dumpty can be put back together again.
Janet, you repeated over and over the name of your son's agribusiness specialty of landscaping and lawn care. Avast? Avert? Avant? I can't remember. May his Twickenham, Ledges and other neighbourhood work keep him busy, if not making a living wage - it's happening to all of us, as can been seen by empty shopping centres from here to California and back.
When your cities and towns are the gold rush that spiked and collapsed, what's next?
Stay tuned.
The Book of the Future actually has good things to say about our continuously-moving moment together.
I didn't say easy. Good.
You'll see.
Just like Claire saw the old Chattanooga Choo-Choo train station for the very first time. Wish I coulda been there, Claire. Life is full of eye-opening experiences.
Could Jeff Gordon win tomorrow?
Did the guy at UBC buy the iPod Touch so he could add a Tom-Tom GPS unit and CoPilot Live?
Who has correctly predicted the cricket champ?
Will the forces of free enterprises win for the people or for the...
[Please recharge your battery at this time to continue enjoying the free Internet service we provided in exchange for promoting us]
Yes, Laurie Anderson, we are all going down together but it's going to be a glorious ride! Buckle up! The weather's calling your name! Got your fishing poles and tackle box ready?
JUS2LIN
Now, again for the very first time, using phrases that, like "As Seen On TV!," lose their meaning because fewer and fewer people are watching original programming on the stationary screen (or using stationery)...
We give you [fingernail filing sound, Ms. Foley, please]
MANADEE, a cross between Xanadu and a manatee, but not a cross between Manwich and Sandra Dee.
Life is vanity and then you die.
Thanks to Robert and Beonca at Rave Motion Pictures; Tami at Beauregard's; Serge Ibaka of Oklahoma City; Amway Center in Orlando.
My father reminded me of the urban myths passed around in his childhood during the rollout of the Rural Electrification Initiative (originally authorised by executive order in my father's birth year), that when you saw plasma arcing from big power lines, it was the sign of invisible alien ships recharging.
He's 76. He's earned the right to reminisce.
Dumbfounded = colloquial mashing of dumbstruck and confounded.
When freedom is just another word for business opportunity, I take down my American flag and replace it with the GE meatball.
Let's be honest here. Washington and Jefferson weren't into proletarianism. They were into the right to build your own business and determine how to redistribute your wealth the way you wanted, not the way neighbourhood thugs, poor do-gooders or despots wanted.
After all, we call it lobbying, not bribery.
After all, my wife and I built our wealth the old-fashioned way, we earned it one dollar at a time, saving at least 20% of our income and sometimes as high as 50% along the way to retirement so that when we get old, Uncle Sam is not our sole personal benefactor. Sure, I'd like to spend our wealth now, but delayed gratification will pay off better.
Social networking is fine and good. I enjoy virtual class reunions. I like sending out well wishes and prayers via emails, IMs and such.
In the process of using free social networking tools, I share demographic (I almost said democratic) data in the hopes I won't notice getting pigeonholed into buying a product that I really don't need or isn't really good for me.
I eat raw oatmeal (cooked in the microwave for 2:05), bananas, and whatever is available at the local/chain restaurants where my wife wants to eat a dinner meal together with me.
I don't eat reconstituted oatmeal and oatmeal byproducts mixed with a slurry of sweeteners and other unrecognisable goo.
Call me un-American, if you will!
Trapped in the hell of processed foods and overpriced celebrity clothing lines.
The average modern lifestyle is Purgatory, is it not?
Live as an example to others, but to yourself first.
I leave you in the realm of sleight-of-hand billionaires who promise they only have your best interests at heart, if not your heart health in their best interests.
Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, I'm hooked on whatever you're selling 'cause I'm easily fooled.
If we did away with everything called the public interest, are you willing to step up to the plate and bat for your team that'll have to fund its own interests?
Are there enough people out there willing to pay for pure science and abstract art, those who truly understand that science/art is the bag of seeds for tomorrow's crop of new business opportunities?
Are you willing to hire and educate marginal employees, knowing you and your team have the skills to pull the non/antisocial crowd into the Way of Profitable Living?
I just keep on keepin' on, 'cause that's all I've got left to do, my retirement nest egg at the mercy of the rest of our business interests.
I'm not trying to make fun of us for the sake of laughter - I'm making fun of us because I see what you don't see in your comfortably unhealthy lifestyles.
This civilisation is taking all us lemmings over a cliff, sooner than you think.
Sure, it's inevitable, but we can delay it a little longer this time, I believe.
Imagine you're from another planet, and you're observing our planet in hopes of learning from the dominant species how to save your planet from repetitious bloom-and-doom cycles.
Of course, the dominant species type on Earth is a microorganism. How is a typical microorganism adjusting to the changes of global weather and local ecosystem rearrangement caused by the recent boom of growth of a minor species, Homo sapiens?
Can any one species see its interconnection with others and act when looming catastrophe is evident?
I don't need the Book of the Future to see that answer, unfortunately, because I already know how the global ecosystem is like a closed-loop system.
We still have the chance to send representatives out of this snowglobe before it's completely shaken up and our recent round of technological achievements dashed against the thin atmosphere we breathily call home.
Otherwise, we're happily repeating ourselves.
Sigh... Otherwise, we're happily repeating ourselves. [yes, I had to say it]
Mmm, this Kool-Aid is good. Did you add something a little spicy? Cough, cough.
We give you [fingernail filing sound, Ms. Foley, please]
MANADEE, a cross between Xanadu and a manatee, but not a cross between Manwich and Sandra Dee.
Life is vanity and then you die.
Thanks to Robert and Beonca at Rave Motion Pictures; Tami at Beauregard's; Serge Ibaka of Oklahoma City; Amway Center in Orlando.
My father reminded me of the urban myths passed around in his childhood during the rollout of the Rural Electrification Initiative (originally authorised by executive order in my father's birth year), that when you saw plasma arcing from big power lines, it was the sign of invisible alien ships recharging.
He's 76. He's earned the right to reminisce.
Dumbfounded = colloquial mashing of dumbstruck and confounded.
When freedom is just another word for business opportunity, I take down my American flag and replace it with the GE meatball.
Let's be honest here. Washington and Jefferson weren't into proletarianism. They were into the right to build your own business and determine how to redistribute your wealth the way you wanted, not the way neighbourhood thugs, poor do-gooders or despots wanted.
After all, we call it lobbying, not bribery.
After all, my wife and I built our wealth the old-fashioned way, we earned it one dollar at a time, saving at least 20% of our income and sometimes as high as 50% along the way to retirement so that when we get old, Uncle Sam is not our sole personal benefactor. Sure, I'd like to spend our wealth now, but delayed gratification will pay off better.
Social networking is fine and good. I enjoy virtual class reunions. I like sending out well wishes and prayers via emails, IMs and such.
In the process of using free social networking tools, I share demographic (I almost said democratic) data in the hopes I won't notice getting pigeonholed into buying a product that I really don't need or isn't really good for me.
I eat raw oatmeal (cooked in the microwave for 2:05), bananas, and whatever is available at the local/chain restaurants where my wife wants to eat a dinner meal together with me.
I don't eat reconstituted oatmeal and oatmeal byproducts mixed with a slurry of sweeteners and other unrecognisable goo.
Call me un-American, if you will!
Trapped in the hell of processed foods and overpriced celebrity clothing lines.
The average modern lifestyle is Purgatory, is it not?
Live as an example to others, but to yourself first.
I leave you in the realm of sleight-of-hand billionaires who promise they only have your best interests at heart, if not your heart health in their best interests.
Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, I'm hooked on whatever you're selling 'cause I'm easily fooled.
If we did away with everything called the public interest, are you willing to step up to the plate and bat for your team that'll have to fund its own interests?
Are there enough people out there willing to pay for pure science and abstract art, those who truly understand that science/art is the bag of seeds for tomorrow's crop of new business opportunities?
Are you willing to hire and educate marginal employees, knowing you and your team have the skills to pull the non/antisocial crowd into the Way of Profitable Living?
I just keep on keepin' on, 'cause that's all I've got left to do, my retirement nest egg at the mercy of the rest of our business interests.
I'm not trying to make fun of us for the sake of laughter - I'm making fun of us because I see what you don't see in your comfortably unhealthy lifestyles.
This civilisation is taking all us lemmings over a cliff, sooner than you think.
Sure, it's inevitable, but we can delay it a little longer this time, I believe.
Imagine you're from another planet, and you're observing our planet in hopes of learning from the dominant species how to save your planet from repetitious bloom-and-doom cycles.
Of course, the dominant species type on Earth is a microorganism. How is a typical microorganism adjusting to the changes of global weather and local ecosystem rearrangement caused by the recent boom of growth of a minor species, Homo sapiens?
Can any one species see its interconnection with others and act when looming catastrophe is evident?
I don't need the Book of the Future to see that answer, unfortunately, because I already know how the global ecosystem is like a closed-loop system.
We still have the chance to send representatives out of this snowglobe before it's completely shaken up and our recent round of technological achievements dashed against the thin atmosphere we breathily call home.
Otherwise, we're happily repeating ourselves.
Sigh... Otherwise, we're happily repeating ourselves. [yes, I had to say it]
Mmm, this Kool-Aid is good. Did you add something a little spicy? Cough, cough.
Friday, February 25, 2011
Health, the lineal frontier
Two bits, full of bytes/bites:
- World's smallest computer?
- Success starts with breakfast:
At Mission Terrace, Ashleigh Brilliant asked me if I had a question and I was dumbfounded at the time. After I left, I realized the one question I wanted to ask him, "What do you eat for breakfast?"
His response, via email:
"For breakfast I usually have
- Hot cereal with milk and a banana
- Scrambled eggs and bread
- Prune juice and decaf coffee"
Un Coup de Dés Jamais N'Abolira Le Hasard
Or, view from inside a smoked-out white van with mirrors and antennae.
I apologise for the delay in sending out today's important message to our citizenry.
The Committee has been enbroiled, bubbling over with argumentative blocks of ergot-laden Argonaut talk.
All the contracts were signed, though, so I can happily report we have divvied up the planet's economy, with every one of us having many trillions of dollars/yuan to play with.
But, in the course of human events, it becomes necessary...
Wait, that sounds oddly familiar, as if...
Never mind.
Now that we're all officially trillionaires, the Committee wants me to change my tune, getting away from "I'm for the proletariat and I'm here to help" stuff that sells well on abandoned street corners where the unemployed will dance to any melody that drips with honey or junk.
They reminded me that I had taken the "Bob Hope Subliminal Message for the Troops Hidden in Soapy Sales Comedy" class and received an attaboy (a/k/a A+) from the instructor who promoted me up two levels because of the way I tied my shoelaces backwards (never tell a right-handed professor that she can't see how a left-handed student ties his shoes).
And the Committee is right. I had snuck into the Bob Hope Comic Files Library and photocopied all the jokes related to visits in war zones or during times of deep crisis.
Sure enough, using the decoder ring given to my by Fred Kirby at the Tweetsie Railroad, after I explained to him the true meaning of the dopy joke he obviously told dozens of times of day without knowing why, I deciphered not only who had written the jokes for Bob but the hidden messages plainly but cleverly hidden in the exact way Bob spoke the words (in other words, you need as high a definition of high-definition video or film as you can get to truly get what Bob was saying).
Therefore, unlike what my inventor friend had shown me, her latest reinvention of the disposable toilet bowl liner that forever prevents mold and mildew buildup (or those ugly brown streaks!) and decomposes naturally in septic or sewer systems, I had another circuitous path to explore.
It started with overhearing Conan explain to his producers that, although Andy Richter did appear dead at times, there was no reason to assume he was the secret identity behind an imaginary character like Ronny Tripwell, undead correspondent. But Conan would take into consideration paying Andy the same as he paid Ronny - a free trip through Purgatory and over the River Styx to grandmother's house he goes to feed the hungry wolf.
Or the way Trad Braveface twitches and jerks his head when severe weather strikes. Look out for the arcing power lines!
Finally, I arrived at the message I am to impart in no cloaked humour. We are, for your benefit, becoming trillionaires and taking away your overvalued salaries because you have demonstrated no self-control; thus, we are saving the species from itself by restricting your living expenses.
Seriously, the growing divide between rich and poor is for your own good.
Now, that's not saying that every rich person is living the right way. But don't worry, we're taking care of them forme us you.
When you see a millionaire or billionaire die of an unexpected overdose or tragic automobile accident, or perhaps an unexplained plane crash or murder on the high seas, you know what's really going on.
But you always did, didn't you?
We want to welcome one of our own into the club - Dan Tice, CIO of Emerson-America. He is a good kid, straightforward, honest, sticks to the rules and a real example of how to be an example to others. I am nothing in comparison to him, but I always knew that, even if he didn't.
Also, thanks to Rainy, Chris and the cooks at Thai Garden, and Cat Shearer of Happy Tummy - you guys are the best and you know it! I could never say a mean word about you all. A nod to Dave Bjorne and the gang at ADS - keep on keepin' on! And congrats to Isaac DeVaney for his swimming prowess - Lanny and Ieleen must be proud.
The Committee is now pouring over my plans, which show we only have 14,315 days to get this right. If the Book of the Future is correct, our schedule needs a major paradigm shift. Anyone got a trick pair of dice from Paradise Casino to help?
Pardon me while I ignore you again for a while.
I apologise for the delay in sending out today's important message to our citizenry.
The Committee has been enbroiled, bubbling over with argumentative blocks of ergot-laden Argonaut talk.
All the contracts were signed, though, so I can happily report we have divvied up the planet's economy, with every one of us having many trillions of dollars/yuan to play with.
But, in the course of human events, it becomes necessary...
Wait, that sounds oddly familiar, as if...
Never mind.
Now that we're all officially trillionaires, the Committee wants me to change my tune, getting away from "I'm for the proletariat and I'm here to help" stuff that sells well on abandoned street corners where the unemployed will dance to any melody that drips with honey or junk.
They reminded me that I had taken the "Bob Hope Subliminal Message for the Troops Hidden in Soapy Sales Comedy" class and received an attaboy (a/k/a A+) from the instructor who promoted me up two levels because of the way I tied my shoelaces backwards (never tell a right-handed professor that she can't see how a left-handed student ties his shoes).
And the Committee is right. I had snuck into the Bob Hope Comic Files Library and photocopied all the jokes related to visits in war zones or during times of deep crisis.
Sure enough, using the decoder ring given to my by Fred Kirby at the Tweetsie Railroad, after I explained to him the true meaning of the dopy joke he obviously told dozens of times of day without knowing why, I deciphered not only who had written the jokes for Bob but the hidden messages plainly but cleverly hidden in the exact way Bob spoke the words (in other words, you need as high a definition of high-definition video or film as you can get to truly get what Bob was saying).
Therefore, unlike what my inventor friend had shown me, her latest reinvention of the disposable toilet bowl liner that forever prevents mold and mildew buildup (or those ugly brown streaks!) and decomposes naturally in septic or sewer systems, I had another circuitous path to explore.
It started with overhearing Conan explain to his producers that, although Andy Richter did appear dead at times, there was no reason to assume he was the secret identity behind an imaginary character like Ronny Tripwell, undead correspondent. But Conan would take into consideration paying Andy the same as he paid Ronny - a free trip through Purgatory and over the River Styx to grandmother's house he goes to feed the hungry wolf.
Or the way Trad Braveface twitches and jerks his head when severe weather strikes. Look out for the arcing power lines!
Finally, I arrived at the message I am to impart in no cloaked humour. We are, for your benefit, becoming trillionaires and taking away your overvalued salaries because you have demonstrated no self-control; thus, we are saving the species from itself by restricting your living expenses.
Seriously, the growing divide between rich and poor is for your own good.
Now, that's not saying that every rich person is living the right way. But don't worry, we're taking care of them for
When you see a millionaire or billionaire die of an unexpected overdose or tragic automobile accident, or perhaps an unexplained plane crash or murder on the high seas, you know what's really going on.
But you always did, didn't you?
We want to welcome one of our own into the club - Dan Tice, CIO of Emerson-America. He is a good kid, straightforward, honest, sticks to the rules and a real example of how to be an example to others. I am nothing in comparison to him, but I always knew that, even if he didn't.
Also, thanks to Rainy, Chris and the cooks at Thai Garden, and Cat Shearer of Happy Tummy - you guys are the best and you know it! I could never say a mean word about you all. A nod to Dave Bjorne and the gang at ADS - keep on keepin' on! And congrats to Isaac DeVaney for his swimming prowess - Lanny and Ieleen must be proud.
The Committee is now pouring over my plans, which show we only have 14,315 days to get this right. If the Book of the Future is correct, our schedule needs a major paradigm shift. Anyone got a trick pair of dice from Paradise Casino to help?
Pardon me while I ignore you again for a while.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
What is elitism?
What I wonder but am not quite ready to worry about is the income inequality issue in this country.
Are we prepared to visualise a peasant uprising in this nation?
And peasantry is not pleasantry and it's not unpleasant, either.
Feudalism by another name, perhaps, but still the same.
I could encourage revolutions in China and Iran, knowing that the spillover into this country is inevitable, but I don't, or haven't, obviously.
I'm waiting.
Watching.
Ever vigilant.
Are the "haves" going to take social services away from the "almost have-nots," finally reducing (or returning, if you will) our class structure to the filthy rich and the filthy?
It is in the 1000-year projection at this time that a revolution will sweep over this country.
I am only the projectionist, not the film producer or director.
However, some have accused me of being writer and actor in a minor role.
We are willing to recompute the current projection if you are willing to change current sociopolitical tactics.
Otherwise, BAM! BOOM! Francis Scott Keysha Martinez will be writing a new national anthem before you can say what the hay happened to my side of grass-fed beef?
I miss the days of farming, living off the land, having 12 kids because half of 'em will die of diseases I can't afford to cure, little worry about global anything, except maybe the weather.
And Berlusconi thinks he has nothing to worry about? Where's Übermensch Sarkozy when we need him? Protecting his wife Carla from the Italian, I'm sure.
Congrats to Discovery for a beautiful liftoff. It was a great show and we'll miss having more 1970s technology wrapping reengineering stuffing floating around the planet.
I'm a tired, middle-aged guy but I'm here to hear myself observe what's going on so I have nothing to complain about.
This parallel blog keeps me sane, if sanity is helping our ecosystem push itself to the brink of unfixable invincibility. The pundits are taking bets on whether it'll be the roaches who eventually win. What exactly are the meek and if they inherit the planet, what then?
Somewhere, the owners of the rights to "Wag The Dog" are asking themselves what they got themselves into themselves.
Greed and gluttony - the seven deadly sins always get you in the end.
Are we prepared to visualise a peasant uprising in this nation?
And peasantry is not pleasantry and it's not unpleasant, either.
Feudalism by another name, perhaps, but still the same.
I could encourage revolutions in China and Iran, knowing that the spillover into this country is inevitable, but I don't, or haven't, obviously.
I'm waiting.
Watching.
Ever vigilant.
Are the "haves" going to take social services away from the "almost have-nots," finally reducing (or returning, if you will) our class structure to the filthy rich and the filthy?
It is in the 1000-year projection at this time that a revolution will sweep over this country.
I am only the projectionist, not the film producer or director.
However, some have accused me of being writer and actor in a minor role.
We are willing to recompute the current projection if you are willing to change current sociopolitical tactics.
Otherwise, BAM! BOOM! Francis Scott Keysha Martinez will be writing a new national anthem before you can say what the hay happened to my side of grass-fed beef?
I miss the days of farming, living off the land, having 12 kids because half of 'em will die of diseases I can't afford to cure, little worry about global anything, except maybe the weather.
And Berlusconi thinks he has nothing to worry about? Where's Übermensch Sarkozy when we need him? Protecting his wife Carla from the Italian, I'm sure.
Congrats to Discovery for a beautiful liftoff. It was a great show and we'll miss having more 1970s technology wrapping reengineering stuffing floating around the planet.
I'm a tired, middle-aged guy but I'm here to hear myself observe what's going on so I have nothing to complain about.
This parallel blog keeps me sane, if sanity is helping our ecosystem push itself to the brink of unfixable invincibility. The pundits are taking bets on whether it'll be the roaches who eventually win. What exactly are the meek and if they inherit the planet, what then?
Somewhere, the owners of the rights to "Wag The Dog" are asking themselves what they got themselves into themselves.
Greed and gluttony - the seven deadly sins always get you in the end.
Picking Up Where I Left Off Repeating Myself Again
So, after the family from Detroit moved into the neighbourhood, the parents introducing swinging (and I don't mean dancing, this time), I learned that talking about my friends, who others had labeled with the 'n' word because of their skin colour, tended to get me beaten up by the white guys (pretty much just the front line for our successful junior high school football team, it seems to me in retrospect).
Silence was my best friend throughout junior high and high school.
So, when college came along, I was able to get back with people of any size, shape, belief and colour, without fear of physical harm.
As I mentioned in a long-ago blog entry, the college foursome that when to Fort Myers for spring break caused a stir.
And later, when I finally moved up to supervisor, my first employee happened to have dark skin and which adults now call African-American.
At last, I was free of the negative thoughts that hung over my head for much of my childhood.
I was luckier than many. My parents provided a home that was free of racial bias. I watched Bill Cosby on television and listened to Richard Pryor on LP records. But also watched Andy Griffith on TV and listened to him on LP record. Cheech and Chong on 45 RPM record (and later, 8-track tape). Varieties of people on PBS (television) and NPR (radio).
My life has been easy but listening to the perpetuation of negative stereotypes has not been easy.
Turn the other cheek is easier said than done but it provides resistance of another sort.
That's why I support many of the uprisings going on right now around the world because peaceful resistance wins in the long run, although it is painful to bear, including the restructuring of school districts to eliminate, as best we can, racial inequality that still exists today.
Defending oneself is different than fighting for freedom.
We are a very young species and keep learning what works better and better.
Those of us who are here to talk about it are the ones who set the example for ourselves and future generations.
Gandhi and MLKJ may have been rabblerousers of a sort, but they represented a voice that needed and wanted to be heard, just as the people of the American continent wanted to be heard but were ignored by ol' King George and British Parliament in the 1700s (they should have learned that lesson before the Indian subcontinent uprising dozens of years later, huh?).
Our species has thousands of years of cyclical changes ahead of us. Let's set good examples now, or as many as we can, knowing that people will do what they have to do to feed their families, despite negative consequences for the species on the local/global scale.
Silence was my best friend throughout junior high and high school.
So, when college came along, I was able to get back with people of any size, shape, belief and colour, without fear of physical harm.
As I mentioned in a long-ago blog entry, the college foursome that when to Fort Myers for spring break caused a stir.
And later, when I finally moved up to supervisor, my first employee happened to have dark skin and which adults now call African-American.
At last, I was free of the negative thoughts that hung over my head for much of my childhood.
I was luckier than many. My parents provided a home that was free of racial bias. I watched Bill Cosby on television and listened to Richard Pryor on LP records. But also watched Andy Griffith on TV and listened to him on LP record. Cheech and Chong on 45 RPM record (and later, 8-track tape). Varieties of people on PBS (television) and NPR (radio).
My life has been easy but listening to the perpetuation of negative stereotypes has not been easy.
Turn the other cheek is easier said than done but it provides resistance of another sort.
That's why I support many of the uprisings going on right now around the world because peaceful resistance wins in the long run, although it is painful to bear, including the restructuring of school districts to eliminate, as best we can, racial inequality that still exists today.
Defending oneself is different than fighting for freedom.
We are a very young species and keep learning what works better and better.
Those of us who are here to talk about it are the ones who set the example for ourselves and future generations.
Gandhi and MLKJ may have been rabblerousers of a sort, but they represented a voice that needed and wanted to be heard, just as the people of the American continent wanted to be heard but were ignored by ol' King George and British Parliament in the 1700s (they should have learned that lesson before the Indian subcontinent uprising dozens of years later, huh?).
Our species has thousands of years of cyclical changes ahead of us. Let's set good examples now, or as many as we can, knowing that people will do what they have to do to feed their families, despite negative consequences for the species on the local/global scale.
Index Finger
While I'm working through the issues that the computer programmers don't know will be presented to them in printed reports they haven't been assigned to generate, I'll give you the following.
To the folks in the Middle East and Africa.
To the folks in North Korea, Cuba, China, Iran, Venezuela, Afghanistan, Pakistan.
To those who are under the impression they are under persecutory regimes of any kind...
This is the future: franchising.
So, I suggest to you that you get with your friends and family, pool your resources, get microloans, if you have to.
And then work with your political friends to enact laws that protect intellectual property and freedoms of expression.
Finally, after all is set up, build yourself a brand image that you can sell to others.
Sell processed food or clothing lines.
If you cannot dream up your own brand, buy into the brands that already exist.
And, if you're smart, you'll negotiate deals where your brand(s) will feed the malnourished and starving in the world.
Instead of delivering bags of rice and flour to places that don't have cooking fuel or safe drinking water, airdrop in crates of Pringles and Coca-Cola.
Make the world's greatest falafel and open Falafel Bazaar eateries all around the world.
Span the globe with spanakopitas.
Serve lamburgers with children's toys.
Stop the slaughter of endangered animals by showing that bush meat is not the ultimate free range food - your product is.
Sure, petroleum jelly is the best ointment for superficial wounds but doesn't the name Vaseline or Neosporin sound more scientifically safe?
Do you speak a 16-bit language?
Do you believe we are an ignorant species?
Do you write blog entries that invite insight in order to increase readership because you know, and your audience knows, you have only one goal in mind - to save the species from itself, but in the long, drawnout process of doing so, killing us with obesity to get us to another place in time that's better for the total population as a whole?
Would a blog supplement, "as read by the author," a podcast (or perhaps an open source sound file) be a bestseller? Could I pull a Paul Newman and put the profits to universal improvement?
My inventor friends are begging me not to give up, that we together are building a better world, despite repetition that gives me severe migraines which block my thought patterns. "Don't confuse yourself over the normal issues of deteriorating tissue, blood and bones," they whisper in emails.
As I say, I am here with you and thank you for sharing your time with me. I am not perfect and sometimes it shows more obviously on days when I can't stop being a normal person with everyday aches and pains.
One of my friends recommended I look into Autodesk's free animation program for kids. I will, I promise.
The placebo effect of a large tablet of aspirin is often the best elixir for an ol' skeptic like me (and cheaper than a six-pack which would inhibit my driving to the store to buy a box of premixed fudge brownie ingredients to surprise my wife with hot brownies for the surprises she made/bought for me).
To the folks in the Middle East and Africa.
To the folks in North Korea, Cuba, China, Iran, Venezuela, Afghanistan, Pakistan.
To those who are under the impression they are under persecutory regimes of any kind...
This is the future: franchising.
So, I suggest to you that you get with your friends and family, pool your resources, get microloans, if you have to.
And then work with your political friends to enact laws that protect intellectual property and freedoms of expression.
Finally, after all is set up, build yourself a brand image that you can sell to others.
Sell processed food or clothing lines.
If you cannot dream up your own brand, buy into the brands that already exist.
And, if you're smart, you'll negotiate deals where your brand(s) will feed the malnourished and starving in the world.
Instead of delivering bags of rice and flour to places that don't have cooking fuel or safe drinking water, airdrop in crates of Pringles and Coca-Cola.
Make the world's greatest falafel and open Falafel Bazaar eateries all around the world.
Span the globe with spanakopitas.
Serve lamburgers with children's toys.
Stop the slaughter of endangered animals by showing that bush meat is not the ultimate free range food - your product is.
Sure, petroleum jelly is the best ointment for superficial wounds but doesn't the name Vaseline or Neosporin sound more scientifically safe?
Do you speak a 16-bit language?
Do you believe we are an ignorant species?
Do you write blog entries that invite insight in order to increase readership because you know, and your audience knows, you have only one goal in mind - to save the species from itself, but in the long, drawnout process of doing so, killing us with obesity to get us to another place in time that's better for the total population as a whole?
Would a blog supplement, "as read by the author," a podcast (or perhaps an open source sound file) be a bestseller? Could I pull a Paul Newman and put the profits to universal improvement?
My inventor friends are begging me not to give up, that we together are building a better world, despite repetition that gives me severe migraines which block my thought patterns. "Don't confuse yourself over the normal issues of deteriorating tissue, blood and bones," they whisper in emails.
As I say, I am here with you and thank you for sharing your time with me. I am not perfect and sometimes it shows more obviously on days when I can't stop being a normal person with everyday aches and pains.
One of my friends recommended I look into Autodesk's free animation program for kids. I will, I promise.
The placebo effect of a large tablet of aspirin is often the best elixir for an ol' skeptic like me (and cheaper than a six-pack which would inhibit my driving to the store to buy a box of premixed fudge brownie ingredients to surprise my wife with hot brownies for the surprises she made/bought for me).
Personal Revelation
I know part of what's bothering me.
I can find no viable means of supporting myself in the state of the world in its current condition.
I have painted myself into a corner where I believe I am 100-1000 years too early.
The personal blocks out the universal (or at least, the global).
Just because my life is easy doesn't mean I like living the easy life.
The spiral I'm on is taking a dangerously fast downward turn.
Take a deep breath, Rick, take a deep breath. Don't worry. All you will ever do is die, quickly forgotten.
I still don't feel any better but these words are a record of the thoughts clouding my thoughts.
After all, I am still just one person, subject to the state of the set of states of energy which is me.
Time once again to close down this blog and open a new one, I suppose. It's the little things that make a difference sometimes.
Sometimes.
Is there a universal cause worth dying for that's not just another point on the circle of our repetitive species' history?
Not another business case?
Not another sports arena?
Not another bunch of people bickering over dwindling resources?
Not another catastrophic natural disaster?
No wonder people turn to religion to answer the unanswerable about the futility of life screaming, "SSDD!"
Crawling into the abyss is easy. Getting out is not.
I can find no viable means of supporting myself in the state of the world in its current condition.
I have painted myself into a corner where I believe I am 100-1000 years too early.
The personal blocks out the universal (or at least, the global).
Just because my life is easy doesn't mean I like living the easy life.
The spiral I'm on is taking a dangerously fast downward turn.
Take a deep breath, Rick, take a deep breath. Don't worry. All you will ever do is die, quickly forgotten.
I still don't feel any better but these words are a record of the thoughts clouding my thoughts.
After all, I am still just one person, subject to the state of the set of states of energy which is me.
Time once again to close down this blog and open a new one, I suppose. It's the little things that make a difference sometimes.
Sometimes.
Is there a universal cause worth dying for that's not just another point on the circle of our repetitive species' history?
Not another business case?
Not another sports arena?
Not another bunch of people bickering over dwindling resources?
Not another catastrophic natural disaster?
No wonder people turn to religion to answer the unanswerable about the futility of life screaming, "SSDD!"
Crawling into the abyss is easy. Getting out is not.
Something doesn't feel right
I know this sounds silly, 'cause I'm not one for taking myself seriously, but something doesn't feel right to me.
I wish I knew what it was/is but it is preventing me from reporting the future that I see is coming.
I apologise for the profundity, produntity or or nonprofitable proclivity but I can't express in these words what's bothering me.
It is, I'm afraid, neither worse nor better than you can imagine.
It is something else entirely new, something I haven't encountered, and it's fogging up the crystal ball and changing the combination on the lock holding down the cover on the Book of the Future.
A storm is brewing which will clear the air for me.
Until then, a little lightning and thunder will fill the air for some.
'Tis what is.
These words are not what they seem. The metaphors are not literal.
You know what that means - you're on your own for a few more days, I'm afraid.
[or is that, "you're on your own for a few more days. I'm afraid."?]
I wish I knew what it was/is but it is preventing me from reporting the future that I see is coming.
I apologise for the profundity, produntity or or nonprofitable proclivity but I can't express in these words what's bothering me.
It is, I'm afraid, neither worse nor better than you can imagine.
It is something else entirely new, something I haven't encountered, and it's fogging up the crystal ball and changing the combination on the lock holding down the cover on the Book of the Future.
A storm is brewing which will clear the air for me.
Until then, a little lightning and thunder will fill the air for some.
'Tis what is.
These words are not what they seem. The metaphors are not literal.
You know what that means - you're on your own for a few more days, I'm afraid.
[or is that, "you're on your own for a few more days. I'm afraid."?]
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Making Mechanical Cards Like It's The Mid-Nineteenth Century All Over Again
I was trying to remember the three-finger rule and then it hit me. Dark matter! Of course, that's what it is and how to explain it to our simple species.
And why Danielle explained:
As the Great Teacher says, "The easiest explanations are the hardest to formulate. Take a deep breath and start talkin'. If you can't get it all out at once, it ain't worth explainin'. And if that don't work, beat 'em over the head with a rubber chicken. It works every time."
Don't depend on the dual-brain/symmetry metaphor when it's just a consequence of local evolutionary happenchance. It's the spin, or the lack thereof, that makes the real difference.
Meanwhile, security levels are at their highest as intelligence sources warn that roving bands of antimatter have permeated the area. If your loved one disappears out of thin air, report to the authorities immediately! And students, teachers have been warned - you can't use this as an excuse for not turning in your homework!
And why Danielle explained:
"If you purchase 4 classes at once the current series going on will be the only classes that apply for it. So if you miss a class we are not going to make it up for you in another series. If you are 'owed' any classes we will honor them during this 4 weeks but after that if you miss any classes you will need to purchase a new series to come back later.
"My best suggestion for you is if you are not positive you can come all 4 weeks then purchase the classes individually.
"If you would like to register ahead of time for a full series you can do so at http://school.alabamayouthballet.org/payments/ and be sure to include in the space provided that it's for swing classes and what level that you will be taking."
As the Great Teacher says, "The easiest explanations are the hardest to formulate. Take a deep breath and start talkin'. If you can't get it all out at once, it ain't worth explainin'. And if that don't work, beat 'em over the head with a rubber chicken. It works every time."
Don't depend on the dual-brain/symmetry metaphor when it's just a consequence of local evolutionary happenchance. It's the spin, or the lack thereof, that makes the real difference.
Meanwhile, security levels are at their highest as intelligence sources warn that roving bands of antimatter have permeated the area. If your loved one disappears out of thin air, report to the authorities immediately! And students, teachers have been warned - you can't use this as an excuse for not turning in your homework!
A Shoutout
Congrats to my niece, Maggie, who won an essay contest to hear a globetrotting journalist's speech. Her life is forever changed.
Control In The Hands Of The Few
I believe in free enterprise, the ability of the individual to create personal wealth, and the prevention of artificial barriers to entry created by those who, once in what appears to be a position of power, want to prevent free enterprise for the rest of us.
It is, to beat the dead horse again, a dog-eat-dog world.
Let it be so.
The view of dark matter many parsecs from our galaxy is no different.
The laws of nature are the only laws I know to obey. The rest is illusion.
We are one species, nothing more, nothing less.
Except when seen as a specific type of set of states of energy.
But I can't talk to you about that right now.
The language hasn't been invented yet.
In other words, is ILY an acronym, a person's name, or a way some people say, "oily"?
It is, to beat the dead horse again, a dog-eat-dog world.
Let it be so.
The view of dark matter many parsecs from our galaxy is no different.
The laws of nature are the only laws I know to obey. The rest is illusion.
We are one species, nothing more, nothing less.
Except when seen as a specific type of set of states of energy.
But I can't talk to you about that right now.
The language hasn't been invented yet.
In other words, is ILY an acronym, a person's name, or a way some people say, "oily"?
Shivers down my spine
When the phrase "my lawyer and I" meets the so-called amateur sports industry in collegiate circles, I feel a cold chill.
I don't get revenge. I just reveal the list of chemicals and psychiatry visits of those who present to the world a perfect image.
Take pride in your imperfection.
That way, there's nothing to hide.
Otherwise, we're just holding your body over a cliff and asking you when to say "uncle," because "my lawyer and I" falls on deaf ears.
Just like, as a pet owner myself, I ask if, when the growth of the population of my species puts enough pressure on available food sources, we'll have to decide whether we get to feed our pets or starving members of our species who can't afford patented GM food under control by Megaconglomerated, LTD.
"I'm sorry, my little child, but Fluffy has reached its age of viability and we have to turn it in to the reinventers of Soylent food products to feed the hungry masses. We'll buy you another one to raise in our minifarm of a housing unit."
Wait, do I hear a cry of "It's not fair" from the aging pet product industry? If so, it's time to rethink your business model!
I don't get revenge. I just reveal the list of chemicals and psychiatry visits of those who present to the world a perfect image.
Take pride in your imperfection.
That way, there's nothing to hide.
Otherwise, we're just holding your body over a cliff and asking you when to say "uncle," because "my lawyer and I" falls on deaf ears.
Just like, as a pet owner myself, I ask if, when the growth of the population of my species puts enough pressure on available food sources, we'll have to decide whether we get to feed our pets or starving members of our species who can't afford patented GM food under control by Megaconglomerated, LTD.
"I'm sorry, my little child, but Fluffy has reached its age of viability and we have to turn it in to the reinventers of Soylent food products to feed the hungry masses. We'll buy you another one to raise in our minifarm of a housing unit."
Wait, do I hear a cry of "It's not fair" from the aging pet product industry? If so, it's time to rethink your business model!
The only rule is there are no rules
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f[{erk..,45%@##}]
cv(*)
/;"''"
345,234,123
~-+p|?|
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$$%ldkrnwld//=
gh'e44.xhtl4h66lswgn
You-u-u Only Live Twi-i-i-ce Or So-o-o They Say
Clearing my thoughts here for a moment before I describe my view from twixt galaxies.
Forget the word "union," just like climatologists learned to forget the phrase "global warming," and concentrate on the inherent value of the exchange of goods and services between those who've provided you an in/tangible ROI and those who funded them, putting time aside.
It's not just the current ROI or exchange rate that matters. Interest rates are there for a reason, to indicate future value of money, too.
Social science may seem anything but (and as a friend of science, I am a skeptic about anything scientific) what is, to pull an overused phrase out of the stuffy, recycled air, the trickle-down value of delayed gratification in the form of low salaries today that guarantee pensioned salaries at a future (but never guaranteed) point in your life?
I didn't vote for Bush, Jr., (although I did once vote for his daddy because I gotta admire a man who was in charge of the CIA, despite its bureaucratic flaws).
However, his post-presidential comment that he regrets not privatising the big SS (no, not that one...well, wait, maybe he did privatise that one...anyway, staying on this train of thought), Social Security, and while we're sitting here halfway through the next presidential term, I pause to consider the ups and downs of his potential thoughts on the matter.
How do you create a system that is inabusivable? [invent your own word, if you don't like that one]
How do you create a social monetary support system that provides incentives?
How do you guarantee people don't pad their expense reports?
How do you put into place a mode for people to care about others just like they care for themselves and their family/friends?
You can't legislate morality. You can only set an example by living a morally forward-pointing life.
You can legislate ethics but how do you reward rather than punish? [on a side note, how can Google reward innovation rather than calling innovative SEO tricksters "system cheaters"?]
After all, didn't Abraham Lincoln himself pad his Congressional expense reports to fund his lifestyle?
Life finds a way.
Not everyone on welfare, Social Security, or pension is bad. In fact, pensioners and welfare recipients probably use most of their money to fund many of the small businesses and franchises/chains that keep our global economy running ( in other words, how many pensioners are actually living below their means and saving, creating a savings rate in a CD or other monetary instrument that's generating future income in another path? I don't know - it's an exercise I leave for those who've considered the matter).
On the flip side, because they have, on one hand, a fixed salary, and, on the other hand, an income based on someone else's pot of gold, not the one they themselves saved up, are they using their limited means in the most wise way, whatever that means?
Flip sides. Palms. Backhands. Back flips. You pick the images and see for yourself.
There is no cut-and-dry, easy answer for the issue at hand. Otherwise, I'd pretend to know the answer on this one, or provide the Committee's input and/or the direction provided to the Committee members by the ones who control the ones who control the Committee, and tell you.
Now, back to the dark matter's view of our galaxy and the superclusters we think we call home.
Forget the word "union," just like climatologists learned to forget the phrase "global warming," and concentrate on the inherent value of the exchange of goods and services between those who've provided you an in/tangible ROI and those who funded them, putting time aside.
It's not just the current ROI or exchange rate that matters. Interest rates are there for a reason, to indicate future value of money, too.
Social science may seem anything but (and as a friend of science, I am a skeptic about anything scientific) what is, to pull an overused phrase out of the stuffy, recycled air, the trickle-down value of delayed gratification in the form of low salaries today that guarantee pensioned salaries at a future (but never guaranteed) point in your life?
I didn't vote for Bush, Jr., (although I did once vote for his daddy because I gotta admire a man who was in charge of the CIA, despite its bureaucratic flaws).
However, his post-presidential comment that he regrets not privatising the big SS (no, not that one...well, wait, maybe he did privatise that one...anyway, staying on this train of thought), Social Security, and while we're sitting here halfway through the next presidential term, I pause to consider the ups and downs of his potential thoughts on the matter.
How do you create a system that is inabusivable? [invent your own word, if you don't like that one]
How do you create a social monetary support system that provides incentives?
How do you guarantee people don't pad their expense reports?
How do you put into place a mode for people to care about others just like they care for themselves and their family/friends?
You can't legislate morality. You can only set an example by living a morally forward-pointing life.
You can legislate ethics but how do you reward rather than punish? [on a side note, how can Google reward innovation rather than calling innovative SEO tricksters "system cheaters"?]
After all, didn't Abraham Lincoln himself pad his Congressional expense reports to fund his lifestyle?
Life finds a way.
Not everyone on welfare, Social Security, or pension is bad. In fact, pensioners and welfare recipients probably use most of their money to fund many of the small businesses and franchises/chains that keep our global economy running ( in other words, how many pensioners are actually living below their means and saving, creating a savings rate in a CD or other monetary instrument that's generating future income in another path? I don't know - it's an exercise I leave for those who've considered the matter).
On the flip side, because they have, on one hand, a fixed salary, and, on the other hand, an income based on someone else's pot of gold, not the one they themselves saved up, are they using their limited means in the most wise way, whatever that means?
Flip sides. Palms. Backhands. Back flips. You pick the images and see for yourself.
There is no cut-and-dry, easy answer for the issue at hand. Otherwise, I'd pretend to know the answer on this one, or provide the Committee's input and/or the direction provided to the Committee members by the ones who control the ones who control the Committee, and tell you.
Now, back to the dark matter's view of our galaxy and the superclusters we think we call home.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Tar, Pitch and Wood Nails
Back, oh around 1998-2000, when I was sent on an exploratory mission to Alaska to assess the viability of any future national political candidates by planting a few seeds of an idea in the right random people, my wife and I enjoyed many of the local eateries and shops.
During my current two-day meditation, I am finishing the last few packets of Alaska Wild Teas Whole Fruit Herbal blends from Alaska Herb Tea Co., Inc. 800-654-2764.
Thanks to the kind folks outside the continental U.S. for their hospitality.
And to China and Iran, remember, I have a sharp sense of humour - take it for what it's worth - you are my friends. I never, ever, not no how, talk about my enemies. They know who they are by the negativity they represent.
But I do ask you to take into consideration the cries of your people. Whether revolutions are made of jasmine or pearls, they have their reasons for being. A superiour culture absorbs and amplifies the positive, or it, like a flower past its prime, withers, dies and blows away in the wind.
Now, back to my deeply shallow thoughts.
During my current two-day meditation, I am finishing the last few packets of Alaska Wild Teas Whole Fruit Herbal blends from Alaska Herb Tea Co., Inc. 800-654-2764.
Thanks to the kind folks outside the continental U.S. for their hospitality.
And to China and Iran, remember, I have a sharp sense of humour - take it for what it's worth - you are my friends. I never, ever, not no how, talk about my enemies. They know who they are by the negativity they represent.
But I do ask you to take into consideration the cries of your people. Whether revolutions are made of jasmine or pearls, they have their reasons for being. A superiour culture absorbs and amplifies the positive, or it, like a flower past its prime, withers, dies and blows away in the wind.
Now, back to my deeply shallow thoughts.
Personal info under consideration
Naval record of the man I knew as my grandfather (nonbiological):
[note to self - these entries need correction, per email input from mon père on 22nd Feb 2011]
Lee Bruce Hill -- 1911-1978
Born Red House (Joppa), Grainger County, TN, 27 Jan 1911
Died Valrico, Hillsborough, FL 33595 (a/k/a Venice, Sarasota County, FL), Apr 1978
Completed 9th Grade, Central High School, Knox County, Fountain City (Knoxville), TN, 1926.
Moved to Kansas in 1926. Drove moving van until enlisting in the US NAVY, 1929.
Sub Chaser
SC 516
SC-497 Class
Casa Grande (LSD-13) was launched 11 April 1944 by Newport News Shipbuilding and Drydock Co., Newport News, Va.; sponsored by Mrs. G. Delapalme, and commissioned 5 June 1944, Lieutenant Commander F. E. Strumm, USNR, in command.
Sailing from Hampton Roads 19 July 1944, Casa Grande was delayed at Balboa, C.Z. for repairs en route to Pea. l Harbor, where she arrived 21 August. Here she offloaded landing craft brought from the east coast and loaded men and equipment for the invasion of Yap. However, upon her arrival at Eniwetok 25 September she was ordered to Manus to prepare for the Leyte operation. Assigned to the Southern Attack Force, she entered Leyte Gulf uneventfully, and took part in the initial assault on 20 October. Her men worked at fever pace under enemy air attack as they launched their landing craft and serviced other small craft engaged in this triumphant return to the Philippines, and on 22 October, she withdrew for Hollandia. During the next month, she made two voyages from New Guinea to Leyte, ferrying reinforcements, and evacuating casualties.
December 1944 found Casa Grande preparing for the second of the massive operations in the Philippines, and on 31 December she sailed in TF 79's Attack Group "Baker" for Lingayen Gulf. First enemy contact came at sunset on 8 January 1945, as a small but determined group of kamikazes attacked. One of these broke through to damage Kitkun Bay (CVE-71) severely, but Casa Grande came through unscathed, and joined in driving away the scattered individual enemy aircraft which pushed the attack onward.
Although sporadic attacks by Japanese aircraft and small ships tried to disrupt the landings, the long months of detailed planning bore fruit as Casa Grande and the others of her group carried out their landing assignments smoothly on 9 January 1945. She continued to operate in support of the invasion, plying between Lingayen, Leyte, and Morotai until 30 January. Casa Grande next cruised among the Solomons to load Marines, landing craft, and tanks for the invasion of Okinawa. She took departure from Ulithi 26 March, and arrived off Okinawa at dawn of 1 April. Landing equipment and troops under the first of the kamikaze attacks which were to bathe the Okinawan operation in blood, she moved to Kerama Retto 4 April to operate a small boat repair shop there until 3 June, when she sailed for a minor overhaul at Leyte.
Through July 1945, Casa Grande sailed between ports of the South Pacific and Philippines transporting men and landing craft, and on 23 July she sailed for drydocking at San Francisco.
Between 12 September 1945, when she returned to Honolulu, and 20 April 1946, when she docked at San Francisco, Casa Grande supported occupation and redeployment operations in the western Pacific. She ferried landing craft and motor torpedo boat squadrons, calling at ports in the South Pacific, China, Japan, Korea, Okinawa, the Philippines. and Alaska. On 14 May 1946; she left San Francisco for Norfolk, Va. where she was decommissioned and placed in reserve 23 October 1946.
Dad was aboard for both commissioning (5 Jun 1944) and decommissioning (23 Oct 1946)
In 1956, the Oglethorpe was dispatched on a "classified" mission to the Mediterranean as an experimental "maritime Pre-positioned Shop" for rapid deployment. Partly modified, she carried ammunition, fuel, guns, vehicles and supplies and cruised the Mediterranean independently for 5 months under the direct operational control of CNO. Her ultimate destination was to land on the Island of Cyprus, combat load her cargo to support elements of the 82nd Airborne out of Europe.
In July 1958, the Oglethorpe was part of the fleet that transported the Marines to Lebanon.
(See attached file: Hill, Lee Bruce CHBOSN 1950's.gif)
1958 Norfolk, VA
Retired from U.S. Navy after 29 years active service. In his career, he was successively promoted from Seaman Apprentice (Recruit) to Chief Warrant Officer. He was promoted to CPO (Chief Petty Officer) in ~11 years (1929-1940), an unusually short time for those promotions "between the wars". ============================================================================
During his career, he served in the Pacific Ocean, the Atlantic, the Caribbean Sea, the Mediterranean Sea, the Indian Ocean, the China Sea,the Red Sea and others.
He served in two wars, WWII and the Korean "Conflict", as well as the Suez Crisis of 1956 and the Lebanon Crisis of 1958.
He was stationed aboard the USS Maryland in Pearl Harbor, T.H., as early as 1932, when he saw the disguised "high-powered Japanese fishing boats...." (aka "spy boats") *. A scant 9 years later was 7 Dec 1941, the "day that shall live in infamy....FDR". Thankfully, he had been transferred off the USS Maryland in 1940.
* Conversation, LB Hill, with RL Hill.
[note to self - these entries need correction, per email input from mon père on 22nd Feb 2011]
Lee Bruce Hill -- 1911-1978
Born Red House (Joppa), Grainger County, TN, 27 Jan 1911
Died Valrico, Hillsborough, FL 33595 (a/k/a Venice, Sarasota County, FL), Apr 1978
Completed 9th Grade, Central High School, Knox County, Fountain City (Knoxville), TN, 1926.
Moved to Kansas in 1926. Drove moving van until enlisting in the US NAVY, 1929.
Lee Bruce Hill...from Seaman to CPO (Chief Petty Officer);
his US Naval service for the period 1929-1940
his US Naval service for the period 1929-1940
BB-46 USS Maryland
- Colorado class battleship:
- Displacement: 32,600 tons (normal) / 34,946 (full load)
- Length: 624'
- Beam: 108'1"-114'
- Draft: 33'7"-34'8"
- Speed: 21 knots
- Armament: 4x2 16"/45, 8x2 5"/38, 11x4 40mm, 1x4 20mm, 29x2 20mm, 2 21" tt; 3 planes
- Complement: 2100
- Propulsion: Turbo-electric, 8 285 psi boilers, 4 shafts, 28,900 hp
- Built at Newport News and commissioned 21 July 1921
- Modernized at Puget Sound Navy Yard 30 Dec 41-26 Feb 42
Lee Bruce Hill...from CPO to CWO (Chief Warrant Officer);
his US Naval service during WWII
his US Naval service during WWII
Sub Chaser
SC 516
SC-497 Class
- Displacement: 98 tons
- Length: 110'10"
- Beam: 17'
- Draft: 6'6"
- Speed: 20 knots
- Armament: 1 3"/50, 2x2 .50-cal. mg
- Complement: 2 officers, 20 enlisted
- Diesel engines, twin screws 1,200 shaft hp
Dad served aboard SC 516 during the period 1942-1944. He held the rank of Chief Bosatswain's Mate (Chief Petty Officer). Since there were only two commissioned officers, he was third officer. The assigned area was the Caribbean, chasing German subs, until late 1942. The craft was then deployed across the Atlantic to Fedala, Morocco, arriving there 2 weeks after the beginning of Operation Torch (Nov. 1942).
SC 516 was used as protecting craft for the larger ships, and was eventually turned over to the Free French via Lend-Lease.
Dad's personnel record shows he was a plank owner and de-commissioning crew member.
Attached is photo of Lee B. Hill, BMC, Bos'n and 3d officer, SC 516, Miami, FL, October 1942.(See attached file: HILL, Lee Bruce BMC (Gold Stripe) Oct 1942.GIF)(See attached file: Hill,Lee Bruce BMC Oct42 Trinidad,BWI.gif)
Following service on SC 516, Dad returned to the USA and received his promotion to Warrant Officer by order of President F.D. Roosevelt. He was then assigned to the USS Casa Grande, then under construction:
LSD-13 USS Casa Grande
SC 516 was used as protecting craft for the larger ships, and was eventually turned over to the Free French via Lend-Lease.
Dad's personnel record shows he was a plank owner and de-commissioning crew member.
Attached is photo of Lee B. Hill, BMC, Bos'n and 3d officer, SC 516, Miami, FL, October 1942.(See attached file: HILL, Lee Bruce BMC (Gold Stripe) Oct 1942.GIF)(See attached file: Hill,Lee Bruce BMC Oct42 Trinidad,BWI.gif)
Following service on SC 516, Dad returned to the USA and received his promotion to Warrant Officer by order of President F.D. Roosevelt. He was then assigned to the USS Casa Grande, then under construction:
LSD-13 USS Casa Grande
- CasaGrande class Dock Landing Ship:
- Displacement: 4,032 tons (light), 7,930 (full)
- Length: 457''9"
- Beam: 72'
- Draft: 8'3" forward, 10'1" aft (light); 15'6" aft, 16'2" aft (loaded)
- Speed: 17 knots max, 15 knots cruising
- Armament: 1 5"/38 DP, 2x2 40mm, 2x4 40mm, 16 20mm
- Complement: 17 officers, 237 enlisted
- Capacity: 92 LVT, 108 DUKW
- Steam turbine engines, twin screws
- Built at Newport News and commissioned 5 June 1944
Casa Grande (LSD-13) was launched 11 April 1944 by Newport News Shipbuilding and Drydock Co., Newport News, Va.; sponsored by Mrs. G. Delapalme, and commissioned 5 June 1944, Lieutenant Commander F. E. Strumm, USNR, in command.
Sailing from Hampton Roads 19 July 1944, Casa Grande was delayed at Balboa, C.Z. for repairs en route to Pea. l Harbor, where she arrived 21 August. Here she offloaded landing craft brought from the east coast and loaded men and equipment for the invasion of Yap. However, upon her arrival at Eniwetok 25 September she was ordered to Manus to prepare for the Leyte operation. Assigned to the Southern Attack Force, she entered Leyte Gulf uneventfully, and took part in the initial assault on 20 October. Her men worked at fever pace under enemy air attack as they launched their landing craft and serviced other small craft engaged in this triumphant return to the Philippines, and on 22 October, she withdrew for Hollandia. During the next month, she made two voyages from New Guinea to Leyte, ferrying reinforcements, and evacuating casualties.
December 1944 found Casa Grande preparing for the second of the massive operations in the Philippines, and on 31 December she sailed in TF 79's Attack Group "Baker" for Lingayen Gulf. First enemy contact came at sunset on 8 January 1945, as a small but determined group of kamikazes attacked. One of these broke through to damage Kitkun Bay (CVE-71) severely, but Casa Grande came through unscathed, and joined in driving away the scattered individual enemy aircraft which pushed the attack onward.
Although sporadic attacks by Japanese aircraft and small ships tried to disrupt the landings, the long months of detailed planning bore fruit as Casa Grande and the others of her group carried out their landing assignments smoothly on 9 January 1945. She continued to operate in support of the invasion, plying between Lingayen, Leyte, and Morotai until 30 January. Casa Grande next cruised among the Solomons to load Marines, landing craft, and tanks for the invasion of Okinawa. She took departure from Ulithi 26 March, and arrived off Okinawa at dawn of 1 April. Landing equipment and troops under the first of the kamikaze attacks which were to bathe the Okinawan operation in blood, she moved to Kerama Retto 4 April to operate a small boat repair shop there until 3 June, when she sailed for a minor overhaul at Leyte.
Through July 1945, Casa Grande sailed between ports of the South Pacific and Philippines transporting men and landing craft, and on 23 July she sailed for drydocking at San Francisco.
Between 12 September 1945, when she returned to Honolulu, and 20 April 1946, when she docked at San Francisco, Casa Grande supported occupation and redeployment operations in the western Pacific. She ferried landing craft and motor torpedo boat squadrons, calling at ports in the South Pacific, China, Japan, Korea, Okinawa, the Philippines. and Alaska. On 14 May 1946; she left San Francisco for Norfolk, Va. where she was decommissioned and placed in reserve 23 October 1946.
Dad was aboard for both commissioning (5 Jun 1944) and decommissioning (23 Oct 1946)
Lee Bruce Hill, CHBOSN (CWO-3) Naval career...1946-1958
1946 Norfolk, VA
Decommissioned USS Casa Grande (LSD-13). He was one of few who were both "Plank Owners" and were still assigned to the ship at its decommissioning. His wife, Thelma Eldridge Hill, was one of two officer's wives who was aboard at both ceremonies as well.
1946-1947 Solomons, MD
Was AOIC (Assistant Officer-in-Charge or XO), then OIC (Officer-in-Charge or CO) of the US Navy Base, ODC (Operational Development Center). He was the de-commissioning officer of this base. His step-son, Richard Lee Hill, was present with Lee B. Hill at the ceremony when the National Colors (US Flag) was/were hauled-down for the last time.
1947-1948 Washington, D.C.
AOIC, US Naval Facilities, Quarters "I" and "K". Quarters "I" was the domicile for the Bachelor Male Personnel assigned to the Pentagon. Quarters "K" served the same fucnction for Bachelor Male Personnel assigned to the various US Navy Facilities in Washington itself. Those who lived in these Quarters ranged in rank from Seaman through Rear Admiral.
1948-1953 Boston, MA and Newport, RI (home ports)
Ship's BOSN, USS Worcester (CL144).
The Worcester was twice (?) deployed to the Med in the period 1949-1950. While on her second deployment, she was ordered to the waters off Korea following the outbreak of the Korean Conflict. She was one of the prime bombarding ships at the Inchon Landing by Gen. McArthur's Command . In conjuction with the assignment, the Worcester set records for "most rounds fired" and "longest steaming without refueling". She was also in one other battle while assigneed to the Koean area. (More on that later).
The second campaign/battle in which the Worcester was involved was the Wonsan Landing on the east coast of Korea.
The Worcester returned from Korea by crossing the Pacific, thence to the Atlantic. In so doing , she completed a round-the-world-cruise. This was also LB Hill's only round-the-world-cruise in his 29 year Naval career. He continued to serve on the Worcester until being transferred to shore duty.
1953-1955/56 (?) Orange, TX
U.S. Naval Base
OIC, decommissioned ships*, (not his exact title, but this was his responsibility).
*This base had ships in "mothballs", which constituted a portion of the US Navy's Reserve Fleet of that era.
1956-1958 Norfolk, VA (home port)
Ship's BOSN, USS Tidewater and USS Oglethorpe, both AKA ships.
Lee Bruce Hill, CHBOSN (CWO-3), USN, was Ship's BOSN, circa 1956-58.
USS Oglethorpe
AKA 100
Ship's characteristics:
Decommissioned USS Casa Grande (LSD-13). He was one of few who were both "Plank Owners" and were still assigned to the ship at its decommissioning. His wife, Thelma Eldridge Hill, was one of two officer's wives who was aboard at both ceremonies as well.
1946-1947 Solomons, MD
Was AOIC (Assistant Officer-in-Charge or XO), then OIC (Officer-in-Charge or CO) of the US Navy Base, ODC (Operational Development Center). He was the de-commissioning officer of this base. His step-son, Richard Lee Hill, was present with Lee B. Hill at the ceremony when the National Colors (US Flag) was/were hauled-down for the last time.
1947-1948 Washington, D.C.
AOIC, US Naval Facilities, Quarters "I" and "K". Quarters "I" was the domicile for the Bachelor Male Personnel assigned to the Pentagon. Quarters "K" served the same fucnction for Bachelor Male Personnel assigned to the various US Navy Facilities in Washington itself. Those who lived in these Quarters ranged in rank from Seaman through Rear Admiral.
1948-1953 Boston, MA and Newport, RI (home ports)
Ship's BOSN, USS Worcester (CL144).
The Worcester was twice (?) deployed to the Med in the period 1949-1950. While on her second deployment, she was ordered to the waters off Korea following the outbreak of the Korean Conflict. She was one of the prime bombarding ships at the Inchon Landing by Gen. McArthur's Command . In conjuction with the assignment, the Worcester set records for "most rounds fired" and "longest steaming without refueling". She was also in one other battle while assigneed to the Koean area. (More on that later).
The second campaign/battle in which the Worcester was involved was the Wonsan Landing on the east coast of Korea.
The Worcester returned from Korea by crossing the Pacific, thence to the Atlantic. In so doing , she completed a round-the-world-cruise. This was also LB Hill's only round-the-world-cruise in his 29 year Naval career. He continued to serve on the Worcester until being transferred to shore duty.
1953-1955/56 (?) Orange, TX
U.S. Naval Base
OIC, decommissioned ships*, (not his exact title, but this was his responsibility).
*This base had ships in "mothballs", which constituted a portion of the US Navy's Reserve Fleet of that era.
1956-1958 Norfolk, VA (home port)
Ship's BOSN, USS Tidewater and USS Oglethorpe, both AKA ships.
Lee Bruce Hill, CHBOSN (CWO-3), USN, was Ship's BOSN, circa 1956-58.
USS Oglethorpe
AKA 100
Ship's characteristics:
- dp 14,200 tons
- 1.459',2"; b. 63'; dr. 26'4"; s. 16.5 k; cpl. 425
- a. 5" .38, 8 40 mm
- cl Andromeda
- T. C2-S-B1
In 1956, the Oglethorpe was dispatched on a "classified" mission to the Mediterranean as an experimental "maritime Pre-positioned Shop" for rapid deployment. Partly modified, she carried ammunition, fuel, guns, vehicles and supplies and cruised the Mediterranean independently for 5 months under the direct operational control of CNO. Her ultimate destination was to land on the Island of Cyprus, combat load her cargo to support elements of the 82nd Airborne out of Europe.
In July 1958, the Oglethorpe was part of the fleet that transported the Marines to Lebanon.
(See attached file: Hill, Lee Bruce CHBOSN 1950's.gif)
1958 Norfolk, VA
Retired from U.S. Navy after 29 years active service. In his career, he was successively promoted from Seaman Apprentice (Recruit) to Chief Warrant Officer. He was promoted to CPO (Chief Petty Officer) in ~11 years (1929-1940), an unusually short time for those promotions "between the wars". ============================================================================
During his career, he served in the Pacific Ocean, the Atlantic, the Caribbean Sea, the Mediterranean Sea, the Indian Ocean, the China Sea,the Red Sea and others.
He served in two wars, WWII and the Korean "Conflict", as well as the Suez Crisis of 1956 and the Lebanon Crisis of 1958.
He was stationed aboard the USS Maryland in Pearl Harbor, T.H., as early as 1932, when he saw the disguised "high-powered Japanese fishing boats...." (aka "spy boats") *. A scant 9 years later was 7 Dec 1941, the "day that shall live in infamy....FDR". Thankfully, he had been transferred off the USS Maryland in 1940.
* Conversation, LB Hill, with RL Hill.
Rule No. 1
Never forget the Law of Unintended Consequences, which was never intended to be a law in the first place.
Beer In A Tube
Do astronauts drink beer out of a tube?
Too much lately, I've felt the pressure to perform, like a circus animal trapped in a traveling zoo full of controlled but entertaining behaviours.
The circles within a circle are here for all of us, seven billion strong as usual.
I can give space here for our voices but there are circles in which voices have no meaning where I need to be for a while.
Perhaps I will bring back meaning to our lives or at least connections worth pursuing.
I'm not projecting astrally or jumping on spaceships hidden behind passing comets (or passing comments).
I'm still here, these states of energy flowing in and out of the fluctuating superset of states of energy in this area of the inner solar system.
It is a personal journey I desire but don't relish, having hesitated for so many years I don't remember when I first knew what I had to do to completely be who/what I am and/or was/is/am meant to be.
Tapping into a resource that, from this angle, appears stronger than I believe I can handle.
But I know I will have the strength I need when I need it most/least.
I don't need a flux capacitor, a hyperpowered plasma generator or any thing that requires more than the belief of all of us all the time that we have the power within us to save our species from ourselves.
The energy is the same.
No big line item budgetary expenditure that'll break the bank and allow me to put my name on the side of some powerful looking edifice.
It hurts me just to think about the metaphors I'm avoiding to describe the indescribable.
I'm just glad that I am unimportant and perfectly flawed so I can remove myself from the picture I can't describe that is right here in front of me.
It is about the people, not the institutions or governments.
It is about states of energy that we don't know how to measure.
I don't know why I'm here feeling and seeing what I can't feel and see but it is what it is.
Someone please take it away from me.
I am not interested in being me right now.
Just another guy on the block who likes his beer and booze in moderation, random sports on TV, a comfortable chair to sit in and has a face that's easily forgotten in passing.
I know who I am and it's not fair. Someone better than me should have what is here in me, in this humble, overweight, jolly body.
It's not like what I know makes me happy or puts food on the table or cures cancers or prevents malnutrition.
These are words, words, words.
I am an old, old man, broken, trying to look up, at peace with myself and yet full of sorrow.
I wish I had advice about what to do next.
Yes, I can pray and meditate and listen to the voice within.
And yes I have.
"Go," it says without hesitation.
Into the unknown?
Where I won't be able to come back as I am?
Haven't I already been here many times before, asking the same question and cycling back to the same answer?
The pain is almost unbearable, certainly not worth writing about.
Humour won't help this time.
Once more, I'm stepping deep into a meditative prayer/trance in the middle of all that's going on, unaware of what you're saying around or near me, except as echoes that will rise up out of my thoughts when I return.
It's a journey to a place where communicating using that which we cannot see is right in front of us and we are blissfully unaware of its power to act on more than the activities of one species in a global ecosystem in a solar system in a galaxy in the universe as we know it is almost more than one can bear.
As always, I'm thankful that we're here together to make it possible.
I'm all too happy to share this moment with you because, frankly, it's all we've got.
You are intelligent so let's spend this moment together wisely.
Talk to you soon...I hope.
Too much lately, I've felt the pressure to perform, like a circus animal trapped in a traveling zoo full of controlled but entertaining behaviours.
The circles within a circle are here for all of us, seven billion strong as usual.
I can give space here for our voices but there are circles in which voices have no meaning where I need to be for a while.
Perhaps I will bring back meaning to our lives or at least connections worth pursuing.
I'm not projecting astrally or jumping on spaceships hidden behind passing comets (or passing comments).
I'm still here, these states of energy flowing in and out of the fluctuating superset of states of energy in this area of the inner solar system.
It is a personal journey I desire but don't relish, having hesitated for so many years I don't remember when I first knew what I had to do to completely be who/what I am and/or was/is/am meant to be.
Tapping into a resource that, from this angle, appears stronger than I believe I can handle.
But I know I will have the strength I need when I need it most/least.
I don't need a flux capacitor, a hyperpowered plasma generator or any thing that requires more than the belief of all of us all the time that we have the power within us to save our species from ourselves.
The energy is the same.
No big line item budgetary expenditure that'll break the bank and allow me to put my name on the side of some powerful looking edifice.
It hurts me just to think about the metaphors I'm avoiding to describe the indescribable.
I'm just glad that I am unimportant and perfectly flawed so I can remove myself from the picture I can't describe that is right here in front of me.
It is about the people, not the institutions or governments.
It is about states of energy that we don't know how to measure.
I don't know why I'm here feeling and seeing what I can't feel and see but it is what it is.
Someone please take it away from me.
I am not interested in being me right now.
Just another guy on the block who likes his beer and booze in moderation, random sports on TV, a comfortable chair to sit in and has a face that's easily forgotten in passing.
I know who I am and it's not fair. Someone better than me should have what is here in me, in this humble, overweight, jolly body.
It's not like what I know makes me happy or puts food on the table or cures cancers or prevents malnutrition.
These are words, words, words.
I am an old, old man, broken, trying to look up, at peace with myself and yet full of sorrow.
I wish I had advice about what to do next.
Yes, I can pray and meditate and listen to the voice within.
And yes I have.
"Go," it says without hesitation.
Into the unknown?
Where I won't be able to come back as I am?
Haven't I already been here many times before, asking the same question and cycling back to the same answer?
The pain is almost unbearable, certainly not worth writing about.
Humour won't help this time.
Once more, I'm stepping deep into a meditative prayer/trance in the middle of all that's going on, unaware of what you're saying around or near me, except as echoes that will rise up out of my thoughts when I return.
It's a journey to a place where communicating using that which we cannot see is right in front of us and we are blissfully unaware of its power to act on more than the activities of one species in a global ecosystem in a solar system in a galaxy in the universe as we know it is almost more than one can bear.
As always, I'm thankful that we're here together to make it possible.
I'm all too happy to share this moment with you because, frankly, it's all we've got.
You are intelligent so let's spend this moment together wisely.
Talk to you soon...I hope.
Saigon, Miss
I pointed to the words on the menu. "Can you pronounce this for me?"
"I am Chinese. You will have to get owner to tell you what it says." The server pointed toward an older gentleman standing at the front door.
I nodded. Chinese-American or Vietnamese-American, either one, doesn't matter, just tell me if C6 clay pot is as appetising as it sounds.
The woman at the next table says, "In the country, people are scarier than animals."
Says who? She's been watching "Deliverance" too much.
People are people everywhere.
Thanks to WBU and PetSmart today, and Walmart petrol.
"I am Chinese. You will have to get owner to tell you what it says." The server pointed toward an older gentleman standing at the front door.
I nodded. Chinese-American or Vietnamese-American, either one, doesn't matter, just tell me if C6 clay pot is as appetising as it sounds.
The woman at the next table says, "In the country, people are scarier than animals."
Says who? She's been watching "Deliverance" too much.
People are people everywhere.
Thanks to WBU and PetSmart today, and Walmart petrol.
Experiments in Quietude
While I take a break from mentally actively imagining the movement forward of the parallel universe in this blog, I take a walk.
Out the back door, I step into the woods that surround my house.
I climb to the top of Little Mountain, observing the leafcup leaflets and the shooting stars pushing up not far from prickly pear and brake ferns on the little bald.
I walk along the ridge to the section of woods bisected by overhead power lines overheard to be run by TVA.
I follow a roughcut path to the bottom of Little Mountain, heading west, crossing Old Big Cove Road.
I step into a field and flush out dozens of birds.
I watch dozens of robins oblivious to my existence as they hunt for insects.
Wearing shorts, I carefully walk through brambles, scaring up a couple of deer resting under a small tree.
I follow the deer, scratching my legs on briars, into a deciduous forest and a dry wet-weather creek bed at the base of the mountain on which the Certain Tract is laid out.
Staying out of sight of metal behemoths racing down Cecil Ashburn Drive, I follow the deer path further, stepping over hundreds of soda and beer cans, rolls of metal fencing, broken trash barrels, oil canisters and other debris thrown or bounced onto the roadside and/or washed into the woods by heavy rainfall.
Eventually, the path leads away from the road and deeper into the woods where a creek that flows out from under the road trickles down the mountain.
Like a young kid again, I jump from rock to rock (carefully, though, because this heavy 48-year old frame is less agile), looking for living things finding refuge in tiny water basins.
I walk the creek bed like a cattle rustler hiding from a vengeful posse, making sure my tracks are hard to follow.
Eventually, I find a small creek or spring flowing out of the side of the mountain.
Look! A baby salamander or newt.
Another one!
There are three or four!
BAM! I slip and fall several feet, excitement clouding my judgment about the security of stepping on a rock not balanced for a big boy like me.
Triage: stick jabbed through back of a knuckle on my ring finger, an open split of my left palm, a scuffed right knee that's quickly swelling and a sore behind that indicates a hematoma I'll feel more than see the next time I sit down.
Pull out the emergency kit (hey, Scouts, "Be prepared!"), pour water on wounds to wash off blood and debris, swipe with antiseptic alcohol wipe and bandage up.
Move hands, wrists, arms, back, neck, legs, ankles and feet. Everything works as expected.
A few gulps of water and I'm good to go!
Continue climb to top of mountain.
Take the Bill and Marion Certain Trail.
Shoot photos along the way.
Stop to eat lunch under large tower, next to AT&T/Verizon warning signs.
Take return path using unofficial trail marked by orange bows on trees.
Hike back down mountain using Cecil Ashburn Drive, breathing in auto exhaust fumes to determine the age of the vehicle that just passed me.
Look for fossils in rock outcropping.
Return home.
Shower, dress, redress wounds.
Smile. It's a good life. The Hays Nature Preserve, Goldsmith-Schiffman Wildlife Sanctuary and Certain Tract surround me in the middle of suburban sprawl.
Thoughts and prayers to the folks in New Zealand and other parts of the world where turmoil is rearranging political powersharing.
Don't fear revolutionaries - listen to their complaints and try to proactively implement change that benefits the whole population. Otherwise, elitists, your time will come and go, mainly forgotten on the scrap heap of broken ideals that you tried to prop up with mercenaries and so-called counterrevolutionaries on your payroll.
Act quickly - change is happening in seemingly faster cycles every day.
Time to visit my inventor friends and see what they're cooking up for everyday living.
Out the back door, I step into the woods that surround my house.
I climb to the top of Little Mountain, observing the leafcup leaflets and the shooting stars pushing up not far from prickly pear and brake ferns on the little bald.
I walk along the ridge to the section of woods bisected by overhead power lines overheard to be run by TVA.
I follow a roughcut path to the bottom of Little Mountain, heading west, crossing Old Big Cove Road.
I step into a field and flush out dozens of birds.
I watch dozens of robins oblivious to my existence as they hunt for insects.
Wearing shorts, I carefully walk through brambles, scaring up a couple of deer resting under a small tree.
I follow the deer, scratching my legs on briars, into a deciduous forest and a dry wet-weather creek bed at the base of the mountain on which the Certain Tract is laid out.
Staying out of sight of metal behemoths racing down Cecil Ashburn Drive, I follow the deer path further, stepping over hundreds of soda and beer cans, rolls of metal fencing, broken trash barrels, oil canisters and other debris thrown or bounced onto the roadside and/or washed into the woods by heavy rainfall.
Eventually, the path leads away from the road and deeper into the woods where a creek that flows out from under the road trickles down the mountain.
Like a young kid again, I jump from rock to rock (carefully, though, because this heavy 48-year old frame is less agile), looking for living things finding refuge in tiny water basins.
I walk the creek bed like a cattle rustler hiding from a vengeful posse, making sure my tracks are hard to follow.
Eventually, I find a small creek or spring flowing out of the side of the mountain.
Look! A baby salamander or newt.
Another one!
There are three or four!
BAM! I slip and fall several feet, excitement clouding my judgment about the security of stepping on a rock not balanced for a big boy like me.
Triage: stick jabbed through back of a knuckle on my ring finger, an open split of my left palm, a scuffed right knee that's quickly swelling and a sore behind that indicates a hematoma I'll feel more than see the next time I sit down.
Pull out the emergency kit (hey, Scouts, "Be prepared!"), pour water on wounds to wash off blood and debris, swipe with antiseptic alcohol wipe and bandage up.
Move hands, wrists, arms, back, neck, legs, ankles and feet. Everything works as expected.
A few gulps of water and I'm good to go!
Continue climb to top of mountain.
Take the Bill and Marion Certain Trail.
Shoot photos along the way.
Stop to eat lunch under large tower, next to AT&T/Verizon warning signs.
Take return path using unofficial trail marked by orange bows on trees.
Hike back down mountain using Cecil Ashburn Drive, breathing in auto exhaust fumes to determine the age of the vehicle that just passed me.
Look for fossils in rock outcropping.
Return home.
Shower, dress, redress wounds.
Smile. It's a good life. The Hays Nature Preserve, Goldsmith-Schiffman Wildlife Sanctuary and Certain Tract surround me in the middle of suburban sprawl.
Thoughts and prayers to the folks in New Zealand and other parts of the world where turmoil is rearranging political powersharing.
Don't fear revolutionaries - listen to their complaints and try to proactively implement change that benefits the whole population. Otherwise, elitists, your time will come and go, mainly forgotten on the scrap heap of broken ideals that you tried to prop up with mercenaries and so-called counterrevolutionaries on your payroll.
Act quickly - change is happening in seemingly faster cycles every day.
Time to visit my inventor friends and see what they're cooking up for everyday living.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Cranial Landing Strip
BTW, if you ever find yourself passing through Kingston Springs, TN, on a Thursday evening, find your way over to The Fillin' Station for a performance by the Mohawk Slim Band. Beer and blues, what can I say, man?
The Marriage of Union
I asked my mother, a retired teacher, what the teachers' union had done for her.
She laughed, her facial expression showing me all the years of no raises that the union was so helpful in negotiating on her behalf.
What, then, is a players' union for, if, say, a team like the Ravens lets its namesake (sort of), E. A. Poe, see his museum close due to lack of funds that the millionaire players could easily have funded if they really cared about the meaning behind their teamname's existence?
Prove to me the worth of a CEO or a union and I'll listen carefully. Otherwise, business and labour are labels hardly worth putting on a tackling dummy for fun offseason practice.
At least Gaelic football players know the rules they live by on and off the field.
Like secret Chinese military bases disguised as entertainment centers under construction on Caribbean islands, we all gotta eat and play somewhere.
Maybe I'll buy an oud and play a sad love song, lamenting the loss of people in North Africa and the Arabian Peninsula who've given their lives in the name of [are you listening, Barack?] d-e-m-o-c-r-a-c-y.
She laughed, her facial expression showing me all the years of no raises that the union was so helpful in negotiating on her behalf.
What, then, is a players' union for, if, say, a team like the Ravens lets its namesake (sort of), E. A. Poe, see his museum close due to lack of funds that the millionaire players could easily have funded if they really cared about the meaning behind their teamname's existence?
Prove to me the worth of a CEO or a union and I'll listen carefully. Otherwise, business and labour are labels hardly worth putting on a tackling dummy for fun offseason practice.
At least Gaelic football players know the rules they live by on and off the field.
Like secret Chinese military bases disguised as entertainment centers under construction on Caribbean islands, we all gotta eat and play somewhere.
Maybe I'll buy an oud and play a sad love song, lamenting the loss of people in North Africa and the Arabian Peninsula who've given their lives in the name of [are you listening, Barack?] d-e-m-o-c-r-a-c-y.
On Presidents Day
Small Victories
The same discoveries over and over...
Leading to victory with the least resistance - bend but don't break...
Off to new territory but stuck in the same cycle of post-victory depression;
Make fun of myself to keep from believing my path,
The one I trailblaze in parallel with those who have
followed their own thought trails that felt right to a lot of other people,
Is the way.
I'm still accustomed to the habit of pleasing other people;
If I only pleased me, I...don't know.
What I want no person can give me,
I believe,
Which means I'm still thinking like one form of people pleaser.
So much more than what meets the eye -
How do I describe what I cannot see?
I have no interest in math-based symbology,
No matter how universal it appears to be;
More of a COBOL guy, I guess.
Using the species to test theories about bringing them
up to speed on what's going on at a level where we hardly matter -
Why would our species care to know that we really don't matter?
Just go on with it, Rick -
This might be your ticket out of here,
Or at least away from ennui, melancholia, and depression.
Anything is possible, despite evidence contradictory.
On, on, on...do I invent my own roadsigns?
How do I get the zeitgeist out of my thoughts?
What if the people elected Gerry Adams of Sinn Féin
and showed they truly forgave themselves as a people for the past?
I miss the days of large predators.
The same discoveries over and over...
Leading to victory with the least resistance - bend but don't break...
Off to new territory but stuck in the same cycle of post-victory depression;
Make fun of myself to keep from believing my path,
The one I trailblaze in parallel with those who have
followed their own thought trails that felt right to a lot of other people,
Is the way.
I'm still accustomed to the habit of pleasing other people;
If I only pleased me, I...don't know.
What I want no person can give me,
I believe,
Which means I'm still thinking like one form of people pleaser.
So much more than what meets the eye -
How do I describe what I cannot see?
I have no interest in math-based symbology,
No matter how universal it appears to be;
More of a COBOL guy, I guess.
Using the species to test theories about bringing them
up to speed on what's going on at a level where we hardly matter -
Why would our species care to know that we really don't matter?
Just go on with it, Rick -
This might be your ticket out of here,
Or at least away from ennui, melancholia, and depression.
Anything is possible, despite evidence contradictory.
On, on, on...do I invent my own roadsigns?
How do I get the zeitgeist out of my thoughts?
What if the people elected Gerry Adams of Sinn Féin
and showed they truly forgave themselves as a people for the past?
I miss the days of large predators.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Tacking in the Wind, Oh, Frames of the Mind
I learn from my mistakes.
I don't listen to the intuitive voice in my thoughts (the collective meeting of stimuli, the stream of consciousness, patterned neurochemical firings, etc.) like I should.
On my desk, a laminated sheet of paper - the elevation profile and location of aid stations/Port-o-lets for the 2003 Huntsville Times Rocket City Marathon, which I did not finish that year.
Runner # 979. Age: 41. Sex: Male.
We don't always get what we want, especially if we listen to the wind, pay attention to the wants and needs of others, and put us/them into an external collective meeting of stimuli, stream of consciousness, patterned neurochemical firings, etc.
In first and second grade, I didn't know my best friends happened to have dark skin and adults called black.
In fifth grade, I didn't know my favourite football quarterback happened to have dark skin and adults called black.
It wasn't until the next year, when a white family moved down from Detroit, Michigan, to Kingsport, Tennessee, that I first heard the word "nigger."
That's when I learned about the power of words, even though I still didn't understand what a "nigger" was (I kept thinking it must have been a Midwestern pronunciation of chigger, the way the kids from Detroit tried to explain to me their understanding of the word).
And here I am, almost 40 years later, still confused about the power of words, even though I use them like any skilled artisan creates imaginary worlds or functional furniture with a set of favourite tools, leaving out a paint stroke in a form of a missing comma like the arm of a chair with a pine knot that sticks out.
I look at my wrinkling hands again and ask what they're doing here in front of my face.
At any moment, I could die from natural causes, or seemingly random accidents.
I am a soft, fleshy set of states of energy slowly dying of preprogrammed obsolescence.
I assume we're all intelligent enough to treat each other intelligently.
I take what people tell me on face value because all their words can do is act like words.
I am, as I constantly remind myself in my thoughts and in these words, a glob of reflective glass that reflects, refracts and magnifies comically, un/conventionally and unintentionally.
I absorb the energy of others and pass it on.
I am both my own hero and my own villain.
I am who I am.
The worst of myself and the best of myself I leave out in the open as much as I can see what they are and represent them in humourous fashion as characters using the words you give me to speak in this space.
All I will ever accomplish will be my death.
The rest is an attempt to fill the space we call living.
It is what it is.
We can use any labels we please.
I will not take away your words but I may copy them here as a reminder to myself that "I" is a label to delineate the states of energy that have not been transferred to, or shared with, the states of energy labeled "you."
That is all I know.
Meanwhile, I look at the wants and needs of others and determine what aligns with what in some imaginary manner I call a balance of sorts, knowing that life is not fair and what one has another does not.
Should I care if I hear/watch others comfortably ensconced within their subcultures using derogatory labels and taking negative actions against those outside their subculture just because there is a coming together in a public space that we bipeds share on this planet?
In other words, what is private property, internally or externally to the self (if such a distinction can be made, now that we understand we're all just temporary states of energy)?
I, because I am childless and have no vested interests that prevent me from accepting death any time between this moment and some undefined moment in the future, am up against the rest of the world of my species, and I know it.
Not necessarily "us vs. them," but close enough that I have to ask myself how much my actions are motivated by such a phrase.
Therefore, I think it is in my best interest to push hard against my thoughts that enjoy playing the emperor's new clothes' game, and move toward what I would want if I always got what I want.
I want what others have wanted, to make the discovery that allows me to find a portal, transport out of this shrinking inside-out box of a planet and learn to live in a new set of labels, symbols and states of energy.
Do I get what I want, being fully conscious of the transformation before death transforms me into a nonconscious, dispersed set of states of energy?
I haven't, yet. The future of such a possibility is unclear.
Our future here is pretty easy to squeeze out of these fingers, over and over and over until I am tired of playing the futurist game, except to twiddle my thumbs while the clock counts down the DNA decomposition of the states of energy that are me from time to time.
Sigh...these old thoughts are tired of regenerating themselves and pretending to be something new in the next moment that is never completely promised to exist for every one of us.
I let these thoughts flow through and out of me because I know who I am and what I am capable of.
I believe in myself enough to crawl over and into the abyss of the unknown.
All I can do is die or suffer excruciating pain while alive.
Otherwise, all else is happiness and joy that I am alive to imagine what is, isn't, will be, or won't.
My nest is empty but I am not.
These are just words and words are what they are, sometimes just and sometimes not.
Forgive me while I ignore you for a while and purely pursue my personal dream.
I know who I am and who I must be.
This blog may or may not go silent for a while.
The sign of happiness is quiet as well as loud.
A stalk of wheat does not shout after it's fertilised but it has met its only goal.
My goal is here in the private property of my thoughts and also here in the public space of our lives together on this planet.
My seeds have been these words for almost 40 years now.
Time to look for a new garden that requires a different kind of seed to sow a future in a universe we have barely begun to understand that exists in and around us.
Thanks to my nephew Nicholas who shared a quote from Barry Bonds that it's okay to be lonely at the top.
The word "top" is a label that I've only recently understood.
The power of words.
Silence.
The same thing.
Make friends and influence people.
That's what we do.
Cap'n, give me the wheel! We're taking a new direction that requires a course you won't find on any map!
I don't listen to the intuitive voice in my thoughts (the collective meeting of stimuli, the stream of consciousness, patterned neurochemical firings, etc.) like I should.
On my desk, a laminated sheet of paper - the elevation profile and location of aid stations/Port-o-lets for the 2003 Huntsville Times Rocket City Marathon, which I did not finish that year.
Runner # 979. Age: 41. Sex: Male.
We don't always get what we want, especially if we listen to the wind, pay attention to the wants and needs of others, and put us/them into an external collective meeting of stimuli, stream of consciousness, patterned neurochemical firings, etc.
In first and second grade, I didn't know my best friends happened to have dark skin and adults called black.
In fifth grade, I didn't know my favourite football quarterback happened to have dark skin and adults called black.
It wasn't until the next year, when a white family moved down from Detroit, Michigan, to Kingsport, Tennessee, that I first heard the word "nigger."
That's when I learned about the power of words, even though I still didn't understand what a "nigger" was (I kept thinking it must have been a Midwestern pronunciation of chigger, the way the kids from Detroit tried to explain to me their understanding of the word).
And here I am, almost 40 years later, still confused about the power of words, even though I use them like any skilled artisan creates imaginary worlds or functional furniture with a set of favourite tools, leaving out a paint stroke in a form of a missing comma like the arm of a chair with a pine knot that sticks out.
I look at my wrinkling hands again and ask what they're doing here in front of my face.
At any moment, I could die from natural causes, or seemingly random accidents.
I am a soft, fleshy set of states of energy slowly dying of preprogrammed obsolescence.
I assume we're all intelligent enough to treat each other intelligently.
I take what people tell me on face value because all their words can do is act like words.
I am, as I constantly remind myself in my thoughts and in these words, a glob of reflective glass that reflects, refracts and magnifies comically, un/conventionally and unintentionally.
I absorb the energy of others and pass it on.
I am both my own hero and my own villain.
I am who I am.
The worst of myself and the best of myself I leave out in the open as much as I can see what they are and represent them in humourous fashion as characters using the words you give me to speak in this space.
All I will ever accomplish will be my death.
The rest is an attempt to fill the space we call living.
It is what it is.
We can use any labels we please.
I will not take away your words but I may copy them here as a reminder to myself that "I" is a label to delineate the states of energy that have not been transferred to, or shared with, the states of energy labeled "you."
That is all I know.
Meanwhile, I look at the wants and needs of others and determine what aligns with what in some imaginary manner I call a balance of sorts, knowing that life is not fair and what one has another does not.
Should I care if I hear/watch others comfortably ensconced within their subcultures using derogatory labels and taking negative actions against those outside their subculture just because there is a coming together in a public space that we bipeds share on this planet?
In other words, what is private property, internally or externally to the self (if such a distinction can be made, now that we understand we're all just temporary states of energy)?
I, because I am childless and have no vested interests that prevent me from accepting death any time between this moment and some undefined moment in the future, am up against the rest of the world of my species, and I know it.
Not necessarily "us vs. them," but close enough that I have to ask myself how much my actions are motivated by such a phrase.
Therefore, I think it is in my best interest to push hard against my thoughts that enjoy playing the emperor's new clothes' game, and move toward what I would want if I always got what I want.
I want what others have wanted, to make the discovery that allows me to find a portal, transport out of this shrinking inside-out box of a planet and learn to live in a new set of labels, symbols and states of energy.
Do I get what I want, being fully conscious of the transformation before death transforms me into a nonconscious, dispersed set of states of energy?
I haven't, yet. The future of such a possibility is unclear.
Our future here is pretty easy to squeeze out of these fingers, over and over and over until I am tired of playing the futurist game, except to twiddle my thumbs while the clock counts down the DNA decomposition of the states of energy that are me from time to time.
Sigh...these old thoughts are tired of regenerating themselves and pretending to be something new in the next moment that is never completely promised to exist for every one of us.
I let these thoughts flow through and out of me because I know who I am and what I am capable of.
I believe in myself enough to crawl over and into the abyss of the unknown.
All I can do is die or suffer excruciating pain while alive.
Otherwise, all else is happiness and joy that I am alive to imagine what is, isn't, will be, or won't.
My nest is empty but I am not.
These are just words and words are what they are, sometimes just and sometimes not.
Forgive me while I ignore you for a while and purely pursue my personal dream.
I know who I am and who I must be.
This blog may or may not go silent for a while.
The sign of happiness is quiet as well as loud.
A stalk of wheat does not shout after it's fertilised but it has met its only goal.
My goal is here in the private property of my thoughts and also here in the public space of our lives together on this planet.
My seeds have been these words for almost 40 years now.
Time to look for a new garden that requires a different kind of seed to sow a future in a universe we have barely begun to understand that exists in and around us.
Thanks to my nephew Nicholas who shared a quote from Barry Bonds that it's okay to be lonely at the top.
The word "top" is a label that I've only recently understood.
The power of words.
Silence.
The same thing.
Make friends and influence people.
That's what we do.
Cap'n, give me the wheel! We're taking a new direction that requires a course you won't find on any map!
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