Birthday

On the 26th day of April at 11:40 pm in 1971, I came into this world. Average life expectance seems to be around 76 years old for America, so I am now nearing "midlife" for an American male. It amuses me to state that, because most people think of their late forties or fifties as midlife, even though it is really closer to the end.

Mom always likes to tell (and I enjoy hearing) the story about her being in labor at the military hospital on base, being told to leave and “don’t come back until your water breaks” (this is back when hospitals could do that sort of thing). The mad dash back to the hospital that night where mom pushed her way in and informed them that her water hadn’t broken but I was a-coming. They didn't believe her until they looked and saw my bald head crowning. Mom having her water break as she was cursing and pushing and bringing me forth in the world.

The mix-up during naming where mom thought they had agreed to the name “Eric Allen” but, when dad filled out the paperwork, I became “John Martin.”

There are the funny stories about my attempts to have birthday parties. Mom, being a good baker and cook in general, would make me interesting and unique cakes (the bunny cake, the 3-d castle cake with icing moat and Hershey’s chocolate for doors and windows, etc.), but I usually wound up crying or angry in the end—because I was uncomfortable being the center of attention and never really liked large gatherings. I gave up on birthdays well before my parents did, but they soon followed suit and we would just have a quiet night of just family, with maybe a few close friends.

Then the college years, where mom would come down and we would go to lunch or dinner at a nice restaurant and she would make me open presents and explain why she had given me each one. I still remember the looks on those around us as I unwrapped each present at Olive Garden and correctly guessed the reason for each one. I’m not sure, but I think we started new family trends in those who watched us that day.

The last ten years my birthdays have gotten quieter. In my days at QSI, we would have cake as a group and some would even sing. I miss my hugs from Judith. At FIC, it started bigger, when our department was bigger, and involved glitter-wars with Kari and watching the eager anticipation of Danielle just wanting to get to the damn cake! Now, with a much smaller department and being out of the way, it’s a simple affair—just how I like it.

I’ve mellowed a great deal too. While still a guy with plenty of soapboxes (which you know if you frequent this blog), I am trying to center myself. Actually, writing this has helped a great deal. Matter of fact, I once had a girlfriend exclaim “You’re a fucking robot!” because I am one who doesn’t emote well. I have the emotion, but I discuss, I analyze, and I act on the results instead of just overtly showing them. I’m working on that, too.

I don’t have many regrets.

• I regret not trying harder to make Jennifer stay. I think many things would be different today if I had done that. I still think of her nearly every day.
• I regret not asking Cathy out when I wanted to (she met her eventual husband three days later). I think this worked out for the best because, while I know I would have been great for her then, Steve turned out to be great for her long-term.
• I regret not being closer with dad, but, damn it, he can call me, too.
• I sometimes, but not often, regret choosing English Literature over a science degree in college. I still think I would make a damn-fine medical examiner, but have no desire to go back to school to change that decision now. And I enjoy Technical Writing and I am good at it.
• I regret not fighting Paul over Carmen in High School. While not a violent person by any means, I wanted to, but I just couldn’t egg him into it, even when he was threatening me. The ass had too much to lose, but thought he could get away with threatening me.
• I regret how I let Susan drift away.
• I regret that my inability to show my emotions and my need to over-analyze keeps a barrier between me and others. This regret I am working on and, I think, making some progress with.
• And I regret I’ve allowed my autoimmune hepatitis and rheumatoid arthritis take things I enjoy from me. And, I regret the fear this chronic illness has put into me.

In taking stock in my 34th year, I have a good life, with good family and good friends. I have many more peaks than valleys.

As I move forward from this day, with an eye toward hopefully another 34+ years to come, I see a few things to work on.

• Leaving the fear my chronic illness has given me behind. I need to be cautious and listen to my body, but it’s time to stop letting my illness make decisions for me.
• Continuing to work on my emotional growth and working to be a more open individual.
• Continuing to foster the great friendships I have and adding new friends to my existing circle.

Horror!

Sacrilege! Horror! A pox on whomever did this!

I just heard the "exclusive" radio dance remix version of U2's "With or Without You," arguably one of the all-time best slow songs EVER. The driving dance rhythm and funky pseudo-70s backing tracks almost smother Bono's singing.

How could they do this? Who said, "Let's take a perfect song, and "improve" it" with dance drum beats and fast rhythm guitar work?

The horror! The horror!


AAAAARRRRRRGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!

Story Idea

I had the following story seed awhile ago. Not sure what to do with it, if anything, but I like it.

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In a time before time, far to the north, in a frost-covered valley ringed on three sides by jagged, rocky mountains, there was a strange rift in the ground. In this rift a pool of molten rock bubbled and seethed. This pool was so hot that the ice and snow turned to steam for a hundred yards around it.

From this pool emerged a large figure. It was tall, taller than the tallest man in our village by half a head or more. It had a broad, muscular, red chest. On its back were two red, bat-like wings, folded. Its powerful legs became hairy and coarse and ended in cloven feet like those of the antelope that leap through our plains. It had a broken visage that looked like somewhat like the big apes that live down by the river. Its mouth and teeth were like those of the powerful hyena that can snap bones and chew through our hardest woods. Its eyes were yellow and reflected light in the darkness like those of the great cats that prowl the savannah in the next valley. Starting at its brow and stretching from a thick bush to small line down his back, it sported a black, coarse mane of hair like those of the horses we ride on the hunt.

It stood at the edge of the pool of molten, bubbling rock and surveyed the icy valley. Coming to a decision, it reached for the large, twisted horn that hung from a simple silver chain stretching over its shoulder and down to its waist. Putting the horn to its thick, black lips it blew one long, discordant note and then let the horn fall to hang once more at its side.

It raised its thickly muscular arms to its chest and crossed them, keeping a massive, coal-black, spiked mace in its hand even as he did. It stood and waited.

Soon, a baying could be heard. From all parts of the cold northern lands figures approached the valley. First to arrive were the fleetest of foot and the closest. The Gresh, the great wolves of the north, with their oversized feet and jaws and grayish fur arrived, howling. The goblins were next, creeping down from the rocks with their gray-white skin, hooked noses, and blood-red mouths and eyes glinting. Next, in a sparkle of magic, arrived the Svartheim elves. Their cotton-white flesh and ice blue eyes seemed perfectly in tune with the snowfields of the north. They approached the figure and bowed. The powerful trolls arrived next. Their misshapen limbs belied their strength. The trolls could be found in nearly every color. Some carried massive oaken branches as clubs while others had thick metal gauntlets with which to rend their prey. Many of the sturdy half-men who live under the ground heeded the horn’s call as well, arriving with tributes of gold and cold-iron weapons that they laid at the cloven-hoofed feet of their new lord. Still others came to the call; the wicked wyverns, distant cousins to the noble dragons, the marsh hags of the east braved the cold and brought their cunning ways to aid this new power, and those we call the Night Horrors from the west glided to the north to lend their craft to this dark master. All those who have a devious nature or an evil heart felt that call and went to their new master, even some from our world, the world of Men heeded that fateful call.

As the valley filled, the winged figure looked on with pleasure. Soon it uncrossed its arms, reached for the massive black and green horn at its hip and once more and raised the horn to its lips. It blew another discordant note that caused the Gresh to howl and the trolls to gnash their teeth in pain.

As the tone ceased ringing through the valley, the half-men and the goblins immediately set to work. Tools were produced and construction began on a great wall around the bubbling pool. The trolls, goblins, and men began quarrying the basalt and granite, the wyverns and Gresh were harnessed to drag the stones to the work site, and the half-men cut and laid them with expert precision. The Hags and the Svartheim elves whispered and chanted near the center of the circle formed by the quickly erected wall. Blue and green sparks and fires issued forth from these powerful mages. The pool of magma writhed and seethed and bubbled all the more. Soon, tendrils of the fiery rock started to rise from the pool. The Gyre had been cast and the liquid fire poured out where the Svartheim directed. A tower started to take shape from the cooling rock.

For three days and three nights, through the worst snows that the north had to offer, those in the valley worked on the wall and the tower. On the morning of the fourth day each group completed their assigned tasks. Within the plain of the valley now stood a perfectly circular wall 75 feet high and 35 feet thick. Facing the southern entrance to the valley stood the gate, flanked by two smaller towers. The gate was also made from stone and only the combined strength of four of the biggest types of trolls, those we call Ogres, could open either one of them. The tower stood in the exact center of the circle formed by the wall and the mountains around the valley. The tower looked like the spiraled horn of the beautiful unicorn, only the molten rock had cooled into a glass-like, black sheen. Seen from above, the tower looked like the black pupil to the eye formed by the mountains and the wall. The hole in which the magma burned and bubbled had been elongated and wrapped around the tower’s base, forming a moat of molten rock.

A stone ramp and draw bridge were added to allow egress into the tower’s main entrance, some thirty feet about the floor of the valley.

For the first time since rising from the molten pool, the figure spoke. Its voice sounded deep, resonate, and clear.

“It is good.”

It then strode up the ramp, its cloven hooves sparking on the spell-hardened obsidian of his newly created keep, and entered its throne room.

And thus evil invaded our world.

But evil did not stay still. This dark lord of the north had plans for this world. With its army of followers, it bent its will toward the conquest of the world. It used foul magic to strengthen the winter and extend its influence farther south.

Thus started the time we call the Long Winter of a thousand years ago, wherein the Dark Lord stretched its influence as far as it could and all good people of the world had to ban together to repel its advance and send it back to its tower in the north.

Thursday Thoughts

I was originally in favor of an age limit in the NBA. In almost any sport, for that matter, but it seemed that the NFL was self-regulating in that regard (how many High Schoolers really have the size to go into the NFL?), and other sports, such as baseball and tennis, seemed to have decent farm systems or ranking systems that ensured that only the best quality made it to the truly professional level.

An age limit in the NBA, I argued, would allowed people to mature, to learn the game, and to prepare them to some degree for the rigors of the much longer and much harsher world of the professional basketball circuit. I further contended that very few of the straight-to-NBA High Schoolers made an immediate impact. Look at Kobe Bryant and Kevin Garnet; both have been successful, true, but both took 2-3 years of playing to learn the ins and outs of the game and reach that "next level" their potential provided. It was only then that they became the big stars they are now. I furthered muttered that, with a couple of years of college, Kobe (and others of his general attitude and disposition) would have learned to get along and understand the personal dynamics of the team sport and Lakers fans would still be enjoying the Shaq/Kobe connection and a lot of championship celebrations. I also agreed that an age limit would likely allow the NBA to present and promote a better "product" to its fans.

While I still firmly believe all of those things, I am no longer in favor of an age limit.

First, this is America, wherein everyone has the right to grasp for that brass ring and make their mark. If one can do it with raw physical talent and little to no education, so be it. Grasp away!

Secondly, no one in the NBA has to draft a High School-aged recruit. It's not a requirement. If the NBA wanted to make a real point, then all it would need is for the owners and personnel managers to just not draft those who are not ready for the NBA level. If one truly thinks a High Schooler is too "raw" or will spend most of their time on the bench for two to three seasons, don't draft them. Go for the more proven talent that has a much better chance of being a star due to the training and experience they have coming out of college. At this point, you would have a High School star who cannot go to college and play ball (as they have most likely hired an agent when they declared for the draft) and they are not in the NBA. That will send a bigger message than any arbitrary age-limit ever would.

Look at the NFL. Maurice Clarrett inadvertently did more for college level players staying in school than any arbitrary rulings the sport could have enacted. He hired an agent, declared for the draft, wasn't allowed in, and couldn't go back to college and play. He screwed himself and learned a very harsh lesson. He then didn't stay in good shape nor did he prepare for the next season's draft, so this year his stock is falling fast and he will not get the same kind of rookie contract he might have gotten if he had just stayed in school, gotten an education and learned to play, and become a better player.

Next, it is true that a person may have a career-ending injury in college and never even make it to the big money in the NBA. Why take that chance? Get in, get a guaranteed contract, make your money and, if that big injury happens, you're still set for life, right? Of course it could be argued that the career ending injury in college means you still can get or finish your college education, and so can make a solid contribution and make good money in a different career-- but can that money ever compare to the millions you could have in the NBA? Also, a good college basketball career does not mean you will be a star in the NBA. So why bother? For every Michael Jordan and James Worthy, you'll have a Sam Bowie.

Lastly, if the NBA was really so concerned with their product, they wouldn't be allowing the kind of thuggery and chicanery that we see in nearly every game. They would do more to help their players manage their money, teach them to stay away from the groupies and hangers-on, and would aid them in their decision making as new millionaires.

It reminds me of the old statistic about lottery winners-- a large percentage of those who win lotteries are functionally broke because they can't curb their spending. The checks each year or the interest on the lump sums isn't enough and they get overwhelmed by purchases, taxes, bad investments, and poor decisions. In the NBA, you've got 18 year olds who are suddenly thrust into multi-million dollar basketball contracts, who become instant celebrities, and who likely get Wheaties and shoe advertising contracts. They become businesses and corporations unto themselves. Let them fail, and crumble under the weight of all that hype, media scrutiny, and expectation. Let them learn the hard way that those "friends" they have coming out of High School are really just looking at him as a dollar sign with legs. Some will survive this rite of passage and be successful. Some will crumble under the pressure and will be out of the NBA in short order, broke and without an education to fall back on.

In the end, I think the entire process is self-regulating. Enough High Schoolers and college drop-outs will be total busts that the NBA will stop drafting them or will draft them much lower. Maybe it will create a farm system that will allow the sport to hire raw talent but teach these kids the game before bringing them up to the bright lights and big money of the professional level.

And, finally, maybe some of the current crop of NBA stars will come out in national publications or on TV and say that they wished they had gone to college, or will promote the education they got through online and summer courses to show that education is still an important aspect of their lives. This will go far in showing the next generation that these stars did not neglect their education and, just maybe, one more person will go to college to be like his/her hero.

Bowling Tournament, Part 2

So today I was feeling more confident about my skills but concerned about the two sets of three games I would need to bowl.

Turns out that was exactly right.

We started with the doubles event, and I was paired with a Jackie against Mike and Karlee. Karlee was still hurting from the day before and she was holding her arm most of the day. Mike looked a bit more focused, but was still more interested in having a good time than anything else.

I started strong, with a 190, then lost it completely as the oil pooled and moved down the synthetic lanes. My next game was a whopping 133! I had no hook at all and had trouble holding any line whatsoever. I got my ass in gear and managed to finish the series with a 168-- only 10 pins off my average.

Two things really got to me: the fast pace (only 4 bowlers total) and the inconsistant lane conditions. It took me time to slow my own pace down and make the others wait for me (as long as it was reasonable, of course). It also took me awhile to find a line that would grant me some success in these conditions.

The singles matches had us moving over one set of lanes (from 5/6 to 7/8). There was no practice time on these lanes. At this point I was matched up against Jackie, but still the same group of four bowling together.

Still struggling with my conditioning, I was sweating and overheated to start and still struggling to find a line-- especially on brand new lanes with different oil patterns. Bowled a 131. However, I managed to slow down, I grabbed a Pepsi (ah, nectar of the gods! Sweet, sweet relief! Bow down before the might of the Pepsi!), and kept slowing my approach, my ball, and myself down until I was able to continue. Found a line by moving 2 full marks plus some boards to the right, changing my hand position, and bowling a nearly straight ball with a slight hook into the pocket. Picked it up in the second game and bowled a 168.

I finally hit my groove and found the exact line and release I needed for these abyssmal lane conditions in the third game. Managed to get some marks in a row and pulled a 182 to be high-man for that game among the four, which was nice.

So, what do I take away from the Tournament experience?

1. I met some really nice people. A lot of thanx go to Jackie, Karlee, and Mike for two fun afternoons.
2. If I focus on having fun first, relaxing second, and bowling against myself third-- good things will happen.
3. I need to improve my ability to adjust to lane conditions.
4. I need to bowl at my own pace, and not let other bowlers or administrators put too much external pressure on me to speed up.
5. My conditioning is atrocious.
6. That, if I wear my brace, tape it securely, and make sure I sit between frames, my knee can survive 6 games of bowling in one afternoon. One note: my hips are sore, which indicates I was favoring the knee, and it is sore, just not too bad.

I don't think I will be doing another tournament for some time, but it was a great learning experience and I have many important take-aways that I can use in my usual league games.

Bowling Tournament, Part 1

So today (Saturday, April 9th) was the first day of the two-day bowling tournament a guy at work talked me into. The team event was held at the lanes right down the street from where I live. While I felt the organization left a little to be desired (if I wasn't hooking up with said friend, I would not have known where to go or what to do), I settled in and found my team.

We wound up being two guys and two girls. The guy and one girl were a married couple, Mike and Karlee. Both were quite nice and seemed like old hats to this; they've done national tournaments, so it probably was. Jackie was our fourth-- very personable, which is good as she is my doubles partner for tomorrow.

We all had scratch averages in the vacinity of the 170s, with Mike and I being the two highest.

I was the rabbit, or first one to throw for my team. I haven't been in that position for many years, as I'm usually the anchor on my regular bowling teams. It was fun and a little nerve-wracking moving out to throw first. Provides a very different overall feel to the game.

I wound up throwing 195, 210, and 186. As I am a 178 average (and improving), I felt really good about the day. Mike was right behind me in the first two, and beat me in the last game. Karlee had an awful first game, but came back and was high bowler in the second, then flattened out in the third. She's battling an injured arm, so every throw was painful. Jackie started okay, then had a crappy second, then stormed back for a 200 in the third.

For some reason, the doubles and singles events are both tomorrow, and at a different alley. The first day's alley uses real-wood lanes (a rarity in today's bowling) and the second day's alley has synthetic. Mike said that the new alley should be very similar to the alley I have my league in, so I should feel a bit more comfortable.

My arthritic knee held up just fine, so I feel pretty good about tomorrow's bowling-- even if there are 6 total games to bowl. I only worry about my conditioning. I'll likely be very tired in the second set of three games. That may wind up helping me (as I'll be more loose) or hurting me (as I'm more likely to have mental mistakes).

I have no illusions that I will win the tournament or even place. I'm doing it more for the experience. I did find it amusing that our team missed the money cut-off by 5 pins!

I'll let you know how tomorrow's bowling goes.

Blogging

For the most part, blogs have atrocious spelling, poor grammar, and abysmal punctuation. Many more people blog than really have anything to say (I may fall into that category-- you be the judge). Although a technical writer in my career, I am frequently surprised and scared by the errors in my own posts (of course, in my career it is important to have someone review your work-- since you wrote it, you are frequently to close to it to catch every mistake. The same holds true for any writing, or course, except I don't have editors in my personal life).

I hear many people both scoff at, and be in a little awe of, those who blog. I've heard this said with both derision and surprise, "You blog?"

One thing I haven't seen mentioned is that blogging gets people to do one of two things that have been on a steady decline in this country: read and/or write.

Every single blog you read is one more page of text you read. Every entry you write is one more page of text you wrote. Even if just recounting your day's activities in a journal, laughing at or vilifying those around you, or adding a few more entries to that great American novel, you are being creative and communicating with those in the world around you.

If your blog is the only way you can get what is inside you out, then blog on! It may be the cheapest form of therapy anyone can have.

Don't let the grammar and spelling errors that abound stop you from reading blogs, either. There are a lot of good opinions, interesting ideas, and earth shaking concepts out there in the world of blogs. Seek them out, comment on them, and form your own conclusions. Yes, sometimes you need a lot of patience to read that fusia and olive colored blog with blue lettering and the obligatory animation that takes forever to load and has an annoying looped soundbyte attached, but the person who made that blog may just have something important to say that will change your life.

I use my main blog space (and my mother hates it when I use this allusion) to metaphorically stand naked on the top of a mountain, flipping the world the Bird. It allows me to vent those frustrations and rampant ideas I have in a forum where I believe others will listen. I don't care if you agree, and I love reading your comments whether you agree or not, but that isn't the point-- I get it out of my head.

I also have two side blogs where I express more of my creative side (see sidebar for links to other blogs).

The important thing is, I get the word out there and I feel better, healthier, and more constructive about things afterward. As I stated earlier, it is very cheap therapy.

So, if you have something to say, I challenge you-- grab your virtual pen and join the fray!

Idle Comment

Is anyone else freaked by the King in the new series of Burger King ads? Man, that costume and that perpetually grinning face just weird me out.

I especially don't like the one where the door opens and that grinning face is just standing there-- too Jason-esque/slasher filmish for me, I guess.

It's weird to type that, too. I watch horror films all the time and so rarely get a good fright. Then THAT comes on TV... shudder.

Thursday Thoughts

I'm not the best eater in the world. I'm one of those scary people who forgets to eat, will just stop eating because he's tired of doing it, and who will ignore his hunger until it goes away. It's not that I dislike food, it's just that the act of eating isn't a priority. I rarely "must-have" a food or am "feeling like" eating a particular flavor.

My refrigerator is a barren wasteland. There is little in the way of "real food" in there, and even the copious amounts of beverages that I normally stock are woefully inadequate at the moment. My cupboards are equally bare; I've got some dried pasta and a bunch of condiments, but not much more.

When you are one person, buying and storing food seems like a big hassle. Cheese and meats frequently go bad not because I don't want them, but because I can only eat so much over so long a period of time before they spoil. I have bought loaves of bread (the smallest ones I can find on the shelf) and wound up throwing more than half of it away-- once it's opened for that first PBJ, the damn clock is ticking.

Even bottled, canned, and dried foodstuff has gone bad on me before.

And I hate food shopping. The stores don't cater to people like me, they cater to mom's with big families and who need quick solutions on the go, go, go!

Actually, my local Albertson's used to have a section just for me-- I called it the single-guy's gourmet. Out of the 2000 or so square feet in this store, there was a little spot on the end of one of the floor refrigerators filled with pre-made meals that the store wanted to quickly sell through. So they packaged two breasts and some bread, or corn and fish, steak and rice, or some other combo in small, not more than two person-sized meals, with the spices and trimmings included, for cheap. Basically, just the right amount of meal, with just the right amount of effort needed to finish it.

I did much of my shopping there. I could get a steak, chicken, pork, and fish meal, enough for two servings each, usually, for relatively low prices. And all that was needed on my end was to fire up the grill or put it in the oven. Usually 20 minutes later I'm eating something good with little effort.

I sometimes feel like, if I could just get someone to come into my apartment, review my eating habits and dietary needs, and then go shopping and stock me up with everything I'm missing, I could then maintain it from that point. But I have no desire to make the initial effort. I actually don't mind cooking, and sometimes really enjoy it, but I just don't want to make the effort most days. Again, when you're cooking for one, why bother?

And now I'm heading back to the apartment, knowing that the cheese is close to going bad, that my loaf of bread is likely already on it's way to penicillin, and that any milk I do have is not something I want to reopen. Here's wishing someone develops The Jetson's full-course meal pills soon!

Blame

Another child has rampaged and killed people. Rather than blaming the real culprit—the child and whomever allowed him access to the weapon and ammunition—you will begin to see many reports on how Music, Video Games, Gun Manufacturers, and even the Internet are somehow to blame. The parents of the slain children will want a scapegoat. The parents of the child who committed this act will want to blame someone for his actions.

Music—the music industry releases hundreds of titles each year and millions of people buy them. Of the 350 million people in our country, nearly all listen to the radio, buy cds, or in some other way have music as a constant influence in our lives. Whether it is rap, heavy metal, country, or pop, the shear numbers of those who listen and “connect” with a song(s) is staggering.

Video Games—the video game industry is a multi-billion dollar a year industry. Video games are sent around the world. In places like China, Korea, and Japan, video games are played by more people of greater age ranges even than here in America. There are huge numbers of European video game players. And the numbers of players in America are staggering. Yet, most video game players are the people you want to meet.

Gun Manufacturers/Owners—there are approximately 70-90 million legal gun owners in America. (It's hard to nail down a specific number, this range seems to be the census.)

The Internet—this is so pervasive that nearly ever person on the planet in a second- or first-world nation is touched by this medium.

If these industries/entities, and most any other you could name as being somehow “at fault,” actually were the bad guy, with the numbers of people who use their products, we would have an epidemic of violence on the scale of genocide.

But we don’t.

As we look deeper at this child, we will find patterns of abuse or neglect. We will find indications he was a violence-prone person with antisocial behavior most likely from an early age. We will likely find that there were plenty of ignored warning signs along the way. Just like we found with the two boys who committed the atrocities in Columbine. Just like we find in any other predatory, violent act.

We have plenty of laws in place that, if properly enforced and maintained, would keep guns (and other dangerous weapons) out of the reach of those who shouldn’t have them, children included. Most responsible gun owners follow the safety rules of never leaving a gun out, never storing a gun and it’s ammunition in the same place, and always using safety and education as a first line of defense to ward against gun accidents and violence.

At some point we have to lay the blame squarely where it should be: on the child. This child is at fault. No matter how abused or neglected, no matter how picked on or ridiculed he was, he still made the choice to seek out a weapon and commit these acts. Others may share some of the blame, but it is still his in the end. If he got the weapon from his parent’s stash, then his parents are partially to blame for not properly securing the weapon and not teaching the child the proper gun etiquette, safety, and respect. If he somehow bought or obtained this weapon from a dealer of any sort, then that dealer is also somewhat to blame—the law is very strict on the ages of those who can purchase weapons and many places (it may even be all now) also require you to show proof that you went through a gun safety course. On top of all of this, there are the mandatory waiting periods and background checks. Add in the fact that the boy apparently wore a bullet-proof vest, and you know that this person planned for this violence and it was premeditated.

The fallacy of blaming the weapon, or some form of media, is prevalent in our society and can be traced pretty far back. In the 1950s, Fredric Wertham wrote a book called “The Seduction of the Innocent.” In it he suggested that the growing prevalence of comic books was creating a world of antisocial children who were prone to violence and criminal acts. He made this supposition because he went to juvenile halls and youth prisons and interviewed the children there. He noted that the jails had comic books and the kids liked reading them. Because of this, he concluded that comic books had caused the acts. He never bothered to find out that the prisons bought the comics and had them available as cheap sources of entertainment. He never asked if the boys read the comics before or after coming to prison. He never found out that the guards found the boys to be less hostile and easier to watch if they had comic books (and other such literature) available to them while they were incarcerated. Wertham put one and one together and came up with the answer he wanted because he didn’t like comic books. Similar studies found correlations to pornography in the 70s and 80s. Others have linked Dungeons and Dragons and other popular, but misunderstood, roleplaying games to violence and criminal acts. Every single one has been dismissed by a majority of healthcare professionals as baseless supposition at best, and outright lies with no credible scientific evidence to back it up.

And today that “blame trend” continues. No one is responsible for his/her own actions. The simple fact is, once we look at the life of those who commit these crimes, we nearly always find patterns of steadily rising acts of violence, bouts of severe depression or paranoia, run-ins with authority (police, school, parents).

The US Department of Justice backs these facts up. Even at our worst, there are less than 20,000 gun related homicides per year. Out of the tens of millions of people who own guns, you’d think that stat would be higher if the guns or the gun manufacturers were really at fault. When you add all of the illegal gun owners into this mix, it becomes an even smaller percentage. Even if you take into account nonfatal gun-related violence, that number is still only around 100,000 incidents per year. Similar statistics can be used to show the large number of people who buy music and video games in comparison to the very small amount of violence and deaths that occur in relation.

This act, as with Columbine, stands out for the shocking brutality of it. It stands out because it is a child committing violence on other children. We are horrified that our society can create the type of person who could do such a deed. And, because of media saturation of the event, it will stay in our public consciousness for many weeks and months to come. But it is still not the music, video game, gun manufacturers, nor the internet's fault.

I am sorry for those who lost their lives and feel bad for their families. I feel pity for the family of the one who committed this act and who now have to live with the media scrutiny and the questions. But I do not blame anyone except the person who committed this act. He made his choice and now a lot of people have to live with it.

They F*&# You in the Drive Thru!

I just got back from going to the drive through at a newly opened branch of Taco Bell/KFC. I have gone through the drive-through 3 other times and have had problems, but not insurmountable ones, each time. Once I ordered a chicken meal and substituted a breast for one piece of the meal. They tried to charge me the breast substitution price twice because the meal came with a breast already (try explaining that, when a meal starts with a breast and a wing and you want to substitute another wing, that does NOT mean they substitute a breast for the first breast and then a breast for the wing, at a total substitution charge of $1.60 (for two breasts)!). Another time they tried to convince me there was no sauce on their quesadillas, even though they slather each one with a vile green sauce that is anathema to me. And each time the fact that not one worker was even remotely fluent in English was a major stumbling block to ordering and then fixing the order when it was wrong.

This time the place took it to a whole new level. I clearly said “T3,” which is a three regular taco combo with a large beverage. I then said “With Soft tacos” (you have a choice of crunchy or soft) and “Pepsi.” What I saw on the little screen confirmed this. I then said, “Quesadilla, no sauce.” All of a sudden, the window read 3 taco supremes, no sauce, and a chicken quesadilla. Strange. The woman then read back my order, I assume, because she said everything in Spanish. Based off what I was seeing on the menu, I said, “No.” I then reiterated my order speaking as clearly as I could into the microphone. This time, everything appeared to be correctly written on the monitor, so when she read it back in Spanish, I just said, “Okay.” As I turned my head to start driving forward, I saw the window flash and $5.47 came up again. Weird.

Now, I try to eat my lunch for around $5 a day. I like Taco Bell because there are multiple menu items I can get and stay within my budget goals. Yes, it’s crap food, but it’s filling and cheap. I have ordered this same meal, no matter the menu designation, a lot. It always comes up to $4.83. It’s something like $3.79 for the meal deal, and about another buck for the quesadilla and the tax.

The woman and the money window says, “$5.47.” I ask, “Why?” She says, “You order T4 with quesadilla.” I say, “No, I ordered T3 with a quesadilla. Three soft tacos.” Much Spanish to someone inside later, she responds with, “Same price. $5.47.” I say, “This order has never cost me above $5 in the past.” I’m not being mean when I say this statement was beyond her ability to grasp. So I break out some more money, pay her and hope to have better results at the food window.

At the food window, I am handed a small beverage in a paper cup. What I ordered comes with a large beverage in a plastic cup. I point this out to her. All she can muster is “Out.” To which I reply, “I was charged for a large plastic cup.” I continue to try to get my point across, but again I run into a language barrier that I cannot get across. I know to little Spanish and she knows too little English.

I have to admit, at this point I’m mad, but I always try to remain polite when I’m mad. I ask for the manager. A third girl appears. I ask if she is the manager and she replies with a cryptic, “I’m currently in charge.”

I say, “First, I ordered a T3 and got charged for a T4. Secondly, both the meal I ordered and the meal I was charged for come with a large plastic cup sized beverage.”

She says, “We are out of plastic cups.” To which I respond, “So you also over-charged me for my beverage, then.” She says, “Same price.”

I laugh. Out loud and in her face. I can’t help it. She’s trying to convince me that a small and a large are the same price? Does she really think I’m that stupid?

“They are $.20 different. I can refund you the $.20?” she says. I guess my laugh indicated that I had found her error.

I reply, “What about the $.50 difference in price between what I ordered and what was charged? You need to refund me more than $.20.”

“Same price,” she responds. I laugh again.

I say, “You know what, just give me my food, keep all of the money you just stole from me, and I will contact Taco Bell about this and choose not to ever come back to this particular store.”

From the look on her face, I’m guessing she is an assistant of some sort, and she was hoping to satisfy me without having the actual store manager or anyone else know about it.

I then take my food and drive away.

So, from my perspective, I have the following beefs with this Taco Bell/KFC branch:

1. Two of the three people had poor English skills. This is a problem because they are working in a predominantly English-speaking area (in Irvine and on a college campus). Note: I do not care if English is their first, second, or twenty-third language—I just want them to speak it clearly and understand it effectively.
2. I ordered one meal (T3), was charged for another meal (T4), and then was told that both were the same cost.
3. I ordered and was charged for a large beverage in a plastic cup but received a small beverage in paper cup.
4. I received no refund for the difference in the costs for any of the disparities encountered. I was blatantly lied to be “the person currently in charge” when I pointed this out. Reluctantly the same person offered a $.20 refund—but only after I pointed out the difference.

Long story only marginally longer: I have used the Taco Bell website to make a formal complaint about this entire incident. If this goes like any other incident with a fast-food chain, I will receive a couple of worthless coupons in the mail and no apology whatsoever.

In the meantime, I will stop frequenting that Taco Bell/KFC and will ask any and all of my friends and coworkers not to visit that establishment.

Taco Bell/KFC
4101 Campus Drive
Irvine CA 92612

Thursday Thoughts

I once either heard or read this allegory: a man goes to St. Peter and, for some reason, Peter takes him on a tour of the afterlife. First they visit Hell. The man is shown a large room with a big table filled with the most sumptuous feast imaginable. Everything to eat is there. The catch is that the silverware is so large that each individual cannot use it to eat the food. People are struggling to fit a few peas onto a spoon and then cannot lift the monstrous spoon up to their mouths. Others cannot work the knife and the fork because the can barely lift even one of the utensils, let alone two. The people in the room are starving, frantic, and obsessed.

Peter then takes the person to Heaven. Here he sees the exact replica of the room in Hell with the same monstrous silverware and the same huge, feast-filled table. But the people are laughing, joking, and having a good time. The difference, Peter points out, is in how they deal with the situation. In Heaven, each person is helping the other; one is using the knife, another the fork, while a third uses the oversized silverware to feed yet another person. When one is full, they switch places so all can eat their fill and enjoy the feast.

The moral of the story—Heaven and Hell are what you make them.

A person in a cube near me at work has been out for six weeks. Why he was out is his business, and I won’t ask him. But, upon returning, he is greeted by many friends and colleagues who wish him well and welcome him back. His response? “I can’t believe I came back to this hell-hole.” I also heard, “Yeah, I’m back in the cesspool that is [place I work].” I heard these comments not an hour into his first day after returning.

I have to admit that hearing this irritated me. Yes, he’s probably disappointed to find out that things went on without him. He may even be disappointed that many things are still the same. But at least give the place a chance before you stroll back down that path to misery.

I have a good job and I enjoy where I work most of the time. It is true that right now I am doing work that I don’t enjoy and that is a taxing me, but I still enjoy the people and the business well enough. I am paid well and have adequate job security for the times in which we live.

If I ever reached the point where I honestly felt like the place I worked was a “hell-hole” or “cesspool,” I would look for a new job. Why come back from an extended leave if that is how you felt about the place you work? I don’t know why he was gone as long as he was, but surely he could have found some time to do some Monster.com job searches and interviewed for a job or two?

I was struck by how we are both in similar situations but our responses to them were so different. It seems to me that he and I are in mirror images of the same room; in his version, he is miserable and morose, while in mine I am content and well-adjusted.

My Tori Amos Dream

I had the following dream (with some small variations) again. I love this dream; it is one of the few recurring dreams that I look forward to. Most of my recurring dreams are violent, scary, or disturbing.

Note: I previously posted this on my website. But, since I dreamed it again, and I never updated that website, I thought I'd move it here and share with a new audience.

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I am in some unnamed city and it is dark and cold, sometimes it is raining outside, and some force or event or need drives me to seek shelter in a bar. It is one of those bars that you walk down into and no matter when you stop by, day or night, it has this cloud of smoky air and a perpetual darkness about it.

If it's raining, my pants and shirt are soaked, as though the jacket I am wearing wasn't made for the amount of precipitation unleashed outside.

I order a Pepsi from the somewhat attractive but certainly life-weary waitress and sit down at a table toward the back. I notice a woman at the piano in the corner with an old brandy snifter partly filled with bills and change. She's just beginning to entertain the meager audience.

Counting myself, the audience is mostly men, with only one or two women hidden in dark corners. Everyone else looks like they have grown into their chairs and I guess they are this bar's regulars. Each is drinking away some part of his life he would rather forget or not be involved in.

As I slump into a seat at a table and let the events that carried me here spill over my memory, the piano eases to life. The red-headed woman begins to sing. The songs are painfully well-known to me. I examine the singer more carefully and see it is Tori Amos.

Even in the reality that is the dream, I am not surprised to see her here.

She plays some cut down versions of 'Little Earthquakes,' 'Crucify,' and 'Concertina,' then kicks into a rocking version of 'Caught a Lite Sneeze.' She pauses long enough that I almost think she's finished. She closes her eyes, and begins to sing 'China.'

She invests her entire self in the song, her lower lip constantly kissing the bottom of the black and silver microphone and quivering slightly.

She does not open her eyes and the mourning in her voice and the sad sob that creeps out during the high notes brings me to tears. Her voice becomes gravelly and full of anguish during the low lyrics.

"China, all the way to New York..."

I sit mesmerized. All sound outside of the piano and her voice cease to exist. I am transported to a world of pain and loss and unfulfilled love.

"Sometimes, I think you want me to touch you..."

Tori is barely moving. Her hands on the piano's ebony and ivory keys seem to move of their own volition. I barely see her draw breath. She is elsewhere and the song sings itself.

"Funny how the distance learns to grow..."

I see a tear streak down her face as I feel wetness on mine. I can't move. I don't remember blinking. My heart is stuck between rhythms.

"I can feel the distance... I can feel the distance..."

The song finishes. Tori stays at the piano, her polished nails poised over the piano keys and her funny-shaped lip still shaking and just, just, touching the microphone. It is very quiet in the bar. The few customers are all, like me, mesmerized.

Finally, the Muse releases her and Tori is able to whisper a very faint, almost hoarse "Thank you" into the stillness.

This releases me. I stumble forward, the half finished Pepsi, forgotten, sweating a large wet circle onto the Formica tabletop.

I pull a bill, I don't know what denomination, out of my pocket and slip it into the brandy snifter. Tori doesn't even look at me as she begins the initial notes to 'Happy Phantom.'

I bend close to her ear and whisper a throaty, "Thank you."

The barest hint of a smile plays in the corners of her too-red lips. The curls of her red hair then move to cover her expression in that way that only women's hair can.

I touch her shoulder with a very brief squeeze, then hurry toward the door and whatever waits outside.

The world looks remarkably fresher and cleaner as I emerge from the bar. And I can die happy, because I have experienced Tori Amos singing 'China' in a smoke-filled bar.

Cursing

Fuck.

That is one invective that just rolls off the tongue. It actually feels good to say it. You almost bite your lower lip to begin and the sound starts way in the front of your mouth. Then it moves back into the schwa sound in the middle and seems to reverberate around your entire, open mouth. Then it ends at the far back of your mouth in a near spit as you hit that hard “k” sound.

And it is very useful as a curse, isn’t it? Surprise, anger, consternation, envy, even a rough form of sensuality can all be expressed with this one word. You can even use the single word and let it roll around on your tongue until you get the right feel; “Fuck!” “Fuck?” “fuck.” “FUCK!” I’m sure we’ve all heard the little sound bite that floated around the internet a few years back about how it can be used as nearly all parts of speech; “Fuck the fucking fuckers!”

“Fuck” is my favorite curse word. I’ve never liked saying “Shit.” I use the lesser evils of “Damn” and “Hell” a bit. I never, ever use “Cunt” - I hate that word. I rarely use “Bitch.” “Crap” is said, but just doesn’t sound as good.

I pick my times and places to say “Fuck.” While it is true I sometimes fall into a streak where I’m cursing like a sailor, most of the time I pick what I say pretty carefully. I only whip out a good “Fuck” when I think the word will add to the meaning or emotion of a sentence or a moment.

I also rarely curse at work. It’s just not polite. Now, the guys in sales and marketing, they curse a lot. I hear some of the product support people and almost see the blue clouds over their heads. I, however, chose my times and my places.

Let me wander closer to the point of this message: Because I generally curse judiciously and with thought, people pay attention. And, really, isn’t that why we use curse words in the first place? We want to get people’s attention and show our emotion at the same time. But if you use those words in everyday speaking, they lose their appeal and power to persuade.

If every morning I came to work and said “What the fuck is up, bitch?” to my boss, outside of being fired, she would grow accustomed to hearing that kind of language from me. If a time came when I really needed to punctuate a point, she would miss it. The punctuation would drown in the white noise of cursing I created by over-use of those words.

And so I reach my point: let’s all step back and rein it in, eh?

Thursday Thoughts

If I was CEO of either Target or Kmart, or any one of the (few) competitors of Wal-Mart, I would use the current political climate and take my store in a different direction.

Wal-Mart’s ability to give us low prices is based on its size and willingness to use foreign products, which can be manufactured in many second and third world nations for much cheaper than America can make the same product. By leveraging its size and its access to these incredibly inexpensive items, it can force local manufacturers into deals that then force those manufacturers to look at ways to lower their own costs—which usually winds up being downsizing or outsourcing. Either of these choices takes money away from both the American workers (they are out of a job) and the American economy (both through job-loss and trade inequities).

I would do the opposite. As head of Target (say), I would shift my store focus to using as many American company products as possible and trying to especially pursue those items made IN America. Those items that were not made in America, I would clearly label in my stores. I would then change my advertising focus to say, in essence, “Our prices are higher than Wal-Mart’s, but all of our products are made in America. We focus on things made in America by American workers and American companies.”

With the hot-bed issues of patriotism, nationalism, and the fear of outsourcing work offshore to other nations, I think this message would sell. If it does sell, the resulting purchases would help boost the American economy by keeping jobs and money inside the United States.

Unless America can figure out a way to replace the blue-collar jobs it is losing, Americans are looking at even leaner times ahead. As China, in particular, moves into the first-nation status and exerts more power in the global economy, America's economy will get weaker. Any nation or area that can take American jobs and do them cheaper and faster will get increasingly more work from companies looking to compete. The cycle will continue until we are, like many former world-leading nations in Europe, marginalized and forced to enter unions of nations to bolster our economic strength.

Or, we can do everything in our power to bring those nations along at an even faster clip. The faster those nation’s economies expand and grow, the more quickly they reach the same manufacturing costs as are in America and the prices stabilize and competition returns. But I don’t see that happening any time soon!

Rendezvous Revisited

In talking with people about my previous post, I found an interesting note: men were sympathetic (although I got a lot of ribbing about it) while women missed the point entirely and wondered why I didn’t do more.

First, to clarify for the women: yes I noticed a lot of individual details. When I retold the story, it was after I had put the evidence together and come to a conclusion. Doing so makes for a better story. During the actual event, I was noticing individual details and was not connecting the dots to form a whole. It’s like that old saying about something lost that you find in plain sight, “if it had been a snake, it would have bitten me!”

Secondly, in speaking about the event among various women I discovered that all but one of the women asked why I wasn’t more aggressive, why I didn’t do more. After explaining the point I just made (about seeing each thing as an individual event and not connecting the dots until later) I followed with a question of my own, “How many men have you asked out?” Of all the women I spoke to (in double digits), only one responded that she had asked a man out. One woman even went so far as to say she had never asked out a man and she never would—it was the man’s responsibility. Only the one woman who had asked out a man sympathized with my tale told, because she understood the stresses involved with laying yourself out there and being bold.

The point I am making is that this recent event has really highlighted hypocrisy in the women I know. They want equality, they want to make as much money as men, they want to have the same opportunities as men, they want to be considered more than just ovens for offspring-- all of which I agree with. Yet, when it comes to romance and relationships, nearly all of them want the man to make the first move, to pay for the date, to be aggressive (but not too aggressive), to hold open doors, to talk about her, and to take all of the risk.

I would argue that, if my conclusion about the restaurant incident is accurate, the woman who kept catching my eye is equally at fault. If she was interested, why didn’t she come up to me? Why didn’t she think of an opening line or give me a nod and a wave? Why didn’t she send a more direct signal?

According to articles on the subject, the biggest fear of the average person is public speaking. This fear ranks higher for most people than death or that which can kill them (shark attacks, drowning, car accidents, et al)! Asking a woman out has all of the same pressures of public speaking:

• You are usually speaking in a crowd, albeit a small crowd of a few people;
• You don’t know how what you are going to say will be received;
• You are worried about forgetting what you are going to say;
• You worried about public embarrassment; Etc.

Every single fear you, reading this right now, have about public speaking is present. In addition to all of these fears, the man has two additional fears to include.

• Fear of rejection. What if she doesn’t like me? What if I’m reading the signals incorrectly? What if she, or her friends (because how often is a woman alone?), laugh at me?
• Fear of acceptance. What if she says yes? What do I say after that? What can I talk about? Should I compliment her, and what on? Am I talking too much about me? About work?

I’ve asked out my share of women. In college and afterward, I went out a lot, less often these days. And yet, even with that practice, I still have to overcome many of those fears each and every time I ask a woman out. Every man does, to some greater or lesser degree. An aggressive, confident man, one who asks a lot of women out, is usually one who has a system in place that he is relatively secure will work in most cases. Because of this, he has mitigated many of the fears. People who are naturally more outgoing are going to have a small advantage over those who are more introverted. Those who are better at reading the signals and body language have an advantage over those who are more obtuse.

In the end, I didn't piece together the clues I was given by my admirer in the restaurant. She didn't overcome her own fears and approach me or she was totally expectant that I would make the first move. In the end, who is really at fault?

In order for us to understand each other better, I have some homework for the women who read this.

1. Be direct. I want you to send less subtle, more direct signals when you show interest in the next man. He may be interested in you, too, but just is not sure of the signals he’s receiving or he may not be receiving them at all (as was my case).
2. Ask a man out. Go through all of that fear yourself, even if it’s just once. You’ll have more respect for the men who do approach you in the future.
3. Give us a break. As I heard it once said, “A man hopes he is having sex tonight, a woman knows if she is.” You hold most of the power in the relationship, use it wisely. The next time a shy, geeky, wallflower of a guy that you don't have any interest in approaches you, give him a break. Now you know some of the many obstacles that he had to overcome just to get the nerve up to ask you. Be nice.

And today I'm heading to the same place at the same time to see if the lady is there this week. If she is a student, it may be a routine that she stops by for lunch between classes or after a class. If she is there, I will look for even the most subtle hint and I will get up the nerve to walk over and introduce myself. Wish me luck?

Lunch Time Rendezvous?

So I'm eating lunch at Gina's, a local Italian place that I frequent (some of the best calzones in the area!). Two girls show up for lunch. One is about 5'4", slimmer build (but still curvy), glasses, long dark hair, and is wearing a shirt that just shows a touch of her midsection without being revealing. The other is a tad shorter, a more medium build. They look to be Indian or maybe middle-eastern. I smile at the taller one as she glances in my direction as they are looking for a spot to sit. I am surprised by her beautiful, dark eyes. Her lips have a slight natural curve to them that I find intriguing.

At first they move to sit outside at the shorter girl's insistence. Shortly, they come back in and sit at the taller girl's requested location, which happens to be directly in my line of sight. Throughout the remainder of my meal, the taller girl catches my eye and even smiles. I, of course, smile back too. Have to be polite.

A little aside: when I'm eating alone-- or alone in general-- I'm in my own little world. Specifically, while during lunch, I do my best to put the answering machine on and veg-out, doing my best not to think about work. While generally observant, I am not aware of many specifics.

Then a sappy/crappy love song comes on (by Backstreet Nsync to Men Badd-- whatever, one of those boy bands) and she once again catches my eye. I smile at her singing along, then return to my glazed over, nearly drooling vegged out state.

I finish lunch, top off my beverage, and leave. I do throw one last glance in said girl's direction and she is watching me leave. I sort of nod, then am out the door.

As I am driving back to work after lunch it suddenly dawns on me-- she was probably flirting with me. Sending subtle hints that I could, maybe, come over and say Hi. There is, of course, also the chance she is just flirting for flirting's sake. Many people do this.

I've been out of the loop too long. I've only gone on a few dates recently, and none have been earthshaking for either participant. This lunch time interaction had more chemistry even across the room than either of my most recent dates.

Now, I realize this girl was probably all of 21 or 22. Gina's is right on the campus of UC Irvine, after all. As I am rapidly nearing 34, this seems very young (even if I do try to present the Dirty Old Man image and joke about dating girls half my age). Those who are 22 and 34 are in VERY different places in their lives, and looking for very different things. But still-- I should be seeing/picking up on these signals! Is my testosterone on the blink? Has my lack of activity inured me to the wiles of those lovely females who may be interested? Are my nostrils no longer sensitive to the gentle wafting of the pheromones from receptive females? How many other opportunities drift by because I'm just plain too dense to register them?

A hint to the women in my life-- be blunt. I'm blunt and don't always pick up on the subtleties. I say what I mean and futilely expect the same from those around me.

So, now, all I can do is wait for the next time something like this happens and hope I recognize it sooner and can do something about it. And I can remember the girl with the startling eyes and strange curve to her lip.

Thursday Thoughts

I had another post for today (concerning how to reverse the trend of outsourcing), but recent events led me to make a new post. I'm sure I'll get the other one up sometime soon.
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Human beings have a split personality when it comes to other human beings. We want to think of ourselves as unique even though most of us are more similar than different.

An “emergency” came up at work today. Because someone did not follow the procedures, a few needed documents fell through the cracks and a client was complaining. I had to stop working on my existing projects, change gears, find out what was wrong, address it to everyone’s satisfaction, and then go back to what I had been working on. No one could see that this “10 minute change” would take me a lot longer because of when it was occurring, how long it would take me to figure out where the task was, get it fixed, then go back to my previous job and figure out where I was, and what I was doing before I was interrupted. When I asked one of the participants how long it takes her to “make a 10 minute change,” she replied “About an hour, when all’s said and done.” I then asked her why she thought it would somehow take me LESS time than her to shift all of my priorities around to do a similar task. Her response was a simple, “Oh, I hadn’t thought of that.” Most people don’t. I imagine it is the same for ANY person in ANY job—yet most of us don’t consider that.

This isn’t just true in modern day life. I am frequently amused when I watch or read about archeological finds or sociological breakthroughs concerning ancient man. A boiled-down version of Occam’s Razor says the simplest explanation is most often the correct one. Yet, when these academics are viewing ancient rock chips, you frequently hear the most complex rationalizations of how ancient man probably used it. I always smile and think to myself, “Well, what would WE use them for today?” Because, in the end, ancient man and modern man still have the same basic needs, desires, and outlooks. We have overcomplicated our lives with a bunch of technology, jargon, and useless knowledge and trivia with which we then overcomplicate our ideas on how ancient man came at things.

I was watching a PBS science special on Native Americans. We recently discovered a new burial mound with lots of flints in some unusual shapes. Two of the anthropologists came up with the most complicated reasons for why the stones were in the shapes they were and why each had multiple sharp sides to them. Then one scientist came on and basically said, “That doesn’t make sense. If I’m using a good stone that makes sharp edges, I keep using it.” He then sat down and took a similar rock and broke it so it had a cutting surface. He then explained, “Once this cutting surface is no longer sharp enough, I either sharpen it again by breaking it off some more, or I shift the rock around and break a new cutting surface from another side of the stone.” He then suited action to words. He went on to say, “If I’ve found a really good stone, I may even have multiple uses for it, having a broader blade on one side and a smaller, sharper blade on the other side.” Again he suited action to words. After only a few minutes, he had created a nearly identical rock to those that had been found at the site. The other two anthropologists looked a little sick to their stomachs as they realized all their overly complicated ideas had just been neatly squashed by a no-nonsense approach. The third scientist had looked at it from a perspective of “What would I do, if this was my only tool?” And, of course, modern man does the same. We don’t go buy a new axe at Sears just because our existing axe is dull. We get a metal file or other sharpening tool and make the blade sharp again or pay someone else to do it. Why wouldn’t ancient man do and think the same?

I hate hearing how my friends and family can’t reply to emails “because I’m so busy.” Yes, so? I’m remarkably busy too. We have only two people in our department and we are currently supporting four product lines. Our metrics show we have enough work for four to five people. Yet, I made the time to send you the email, to reply to your emails. Is your “busy” somehow busier than my “busy?” Of course not. The difference is I make it a priority to send and respond to these and you do not. Your priorities are different. That is fine. But don’t denigrate me by suggesting you and your time are somehow more important than me and my time simply because we have a difference in priorities.

I had a similar problem with my doctor once. My appointment was for 3 pm. I wasn’t shown back into a room until about 3:20 and then the doctor didn’t arrive to see me until about 3:40. He apologized for running late and I said, “Do you realize that my time is more valuable to me than your time is to me?” This stopped him cold, as he had never heard it put that way. I further explained that, by making an appointment, we had a tacit agreement that we would both stop what we were doing and meet at a specific time. I felt he was showing disdain for me and my time by being late. His actions implied that his time was more important—I had put my life on hold (leaving work, driving over, and sitting in his lobby and exam room) and he had taken advantage of that. And we all have friends, family, and acquaintances who have done this to us. Or we have done it to them. It is a very egotistical thing, as you are somehow setting yourself up as the better person in the relationship. It is somehow okay for the other person to wait, but how do you feel when you are the one waiting?

In my days as a manager at Blockbuster, through my days at QSI managing client expectations for software requests, and in my current job, I have learned that most people believe that they must say yes to a client and agree with every timeline that a client puts before them. Somehow, they think that saying no to the client will be a catastrophic failure and the client will leave and take his money elsewhere. Yet, few of these people ever step back and say, “If I were the client and this was about my car being fixed, would I want to be told this?” The answer, quite frequently, is no. People would rather have honest conversation and realistic expectations than to have the sales person say yes to everything and then have the support or account management person come back a month later with some sort of apology or explanation why the company couldn’t do it exactly as agreed or in the agreed to time frame. What I found specifically at QSI was that the clients we had were so used to the people in my position lying to them that they were shocked when I reset their expectations, explained the real timelines, and gave them valid reasons for why something costs so much or would take so long. By the time I left, most clients were quite happy with those realistic expectations and phoned me for more than they should have because they knew I wouldn’t BS them.

The point I’m wandering slowly toward is that the next time you are in line and you are getting angry at the person to whom you are discussing your issue, take a step back and say to yourself, “Is this any different than when I have too many clients to deal with and not enough time in which to deal with the issues?” You might find the anger dissipating and your ability to reach a compromise increases as you relate the situation to your own life. If you don’t like it in your life, it’s very likely that the person with whom you are dealing will not like it his.
----
Aside:
I went to get lunch today and the KFC had screwed up my order. Rather than get upset, I thought about my own post and how it applied to the situation and was able to reach a happy compromise with the KFC staff person with whom I was dealing.

Thursday Thoughts

I love it when it rains. Matter of fact, I love any type of weather except for wind.

It’s raining today, the slow, steady drizzle where each drop is about a foot apart and falling in near vertical symmetry. The kind that you can almost imagine could last for days or weeks at a time. It’s light enough that the rain hasn’t turned the world cold and dark, but overcast enough that you can look at the world through lids half-lidded from contentment. The only thing better is the overwhelming silence that encompasses a thick fog.

This is the type of rain that thoroughly soaks the ground and enriches the soil on which it falls. A few weeks back we had a deluge, which super-saturated the ground, caused a bunch of flashfloods and mudslides but then washed into the sea and was gone. That kind of rain is purely destructive; it doesn’t last long enough to be enriching and it is powerful enough to cause destruction.

I think what I like about the slow, steady sprinkle is that, as it nourishes the soil, it also cleans. The air rarely smells as fresh or looks as clean as it does during and shortly after this type of calm cleansing. It’s like all the ills that humanity pumps into the sky and drains into the ground and water are made pure by nature again. It’s as if Mother Earth is shaking off our dangerous pursuits for a brief moment; she’s giving us a momentary respite to show us what we are missing—what we have messed up.

And this weather alters my mood. I become softer, my edges blunted. I’m happier, feel healthier, and am more forgiving. My boss today actually commented, “You’re in a chipper mood today. I haven’t seen you like this in a long time!” Well, it’s been a long time since this type of rain.

Under this canopy of clouds and precipitation, I gain new perspectives and contemplate the universe. I have no need to rage against the machine. I just sit, and breathe, and try to take it all in.

Usually I have a point to my posts and to my Thursday Thoughts specifically. Today, I’m just relaxed, mellow, and contemplative. My soapbox is put away for one day, and all the arguments and recriminations are flowing off me like the rain off my head.

It’s good to just be, every now and then. To just breathe.

PDFs of Existing Printed Work

Wizards of the Coast, the current publishers of the Dungeons & Dragons roleplaying game system, have started to release their books in PDF for sale. These books, which cost $29.95 for the largest (the Player’s Handbook) to the smallest (any of the new “splat” books), are being sold in PDF for the exact same costs.

The publishing industry has for years claimed the main reason the price of books has gone up is because the rising cost of paper, printing, binding, and publishing. If this is true, then why would a PDF of an already published work cost the exact same amount? In a PDF you don’t have the same advertising costs and there are NO paper, binding, or publishing costs. These are not new works, but ones that have been publish for at least 2-3 years each.

There are inherent differences between an electronic book and a printed book. For example, you can only use an electronic book online or you must incur the cost of printing and binding the book yourself (and considering the cost of the ink you use in your printer, that’s no small investment). Also, most companies that sell you a PDF or other format electronic book do so in some sort of proprietary way. Which means you can only use that book on your PC or only with a specific type of reader for which you often have to pay or at least register. On top of this, you are relying on the expertise of the person making the PDF to ensure you get a PDF that is searchable, printable, and correctly formatted for the electronic media. Trust me, I know. As a technical writer for a software company, much of my time is spent ensuring the source material will work in both a printed and electronic format and a lot of effort goes into that process.

With a printed book, you own it. It’s yours. You can write notes in the margins, you can put bookmarks to important sections, you can lend it to friends, and you can read it even when you’re on vacation and without your PC if you so choose, and you can roll your dice on it if you are short of hard, flat surfaces in your gaming environment. You don’t have to worry about formats, media drive compatibility, or if your friend’s PC has all the correct rights/permissions before loading it up to check something during your gaming session.

I understand Wizards of the Coast wanting to push their products into markets they haven’t yet reached. I respect and applaud their desire to make the item available in a less bulky format. However, if they want my spending dollar, they must price these PDFs accordingly. I might pay as much as $10 to have a copy of those books I refuse to pay $29.95 for and accept the limitations of the format. I wouldn’t even hesitate to finish my collection of their intellectual work if the PDFs cost $7.50 or less. But I will not pay the full retail price for an electronic copy of the material (and all the problems and limitations these create).

Instead, I’ll just ask my friends if I can borrow their printed copy.

Valentine's Day

Dove used to make a pink, plastic heart filled with heart-shaped chocolates. I believe they called it Dove Desires, or something similar to that. A few years ago, for two years straight, I received one of these Dove plastic hearts from an anonymous person on Valentine’s Day. No one, not my office-mate, not my other friends and coworkers, ever copped to being the person who left that gift for me.

What made it more interesting was that whoever left the gift had replaced every instance of the word ‘Desires’ on the card and label that came with the Dove treat with the word ‘Fantasies.’ As the card had a very steamy little description (I remember something along the lines of “Indulge your Desires”), replacing the key word with another had an interesting effect (now it reads “Indulge your Fantasies”).

To the best of my knowledge, no one else at the company received that particular gift under those particular circumstances. And it only happened those two years.

So, now, every Valentine’s Day I think of that gift and can’t help but wonder:

• Why replace the original name with the word Fantasy? Was I the fantasy, or did the person want to be my fantasy?
• Why didn’t the person ever fess up? I may have been interested. Even if I wound up not being interested, it would have been nice to know and share the memory with the person.
• Why did it stop? At that company we had high turnover; did the person leave because of the turnover? Was it voluntary? Did the person move on to someone else?

So, once again, it is Valentine’s Day and I am thinking of that gift and the person who left it. Wherever you are and whatever you are doing, I thank you. I have created so many myths and fantasies because of that gift you cannot imagine. I continue to look back with wonder. I guess partly because I'm such a blunt person, I wouldn't think to do something like that, it makes it that much more intriguing to me that someone would share that anonymous gift with me.

And, even though I dislike surprises, each year I secretly wonder if something similar will show up on my desk again.

Thursday Thoughts

Technology is both a boon and a bane to our existence. We have the means now to store, track, research, and resolve most any question or concern that we have, however, that same capacity also limits our creativity, personal knowledge, and memory.

The television and the internet have made the world smaller and allowed us to get more information than ever before. Conversely, they also provide for biased information, the spread of hate and intolerance, and skewed views of the cultures and people presented. Both tend to cut back on a person’s creativity, attention span, and ability to focus. Cell phones, PDAs, and related gadgets keep us connected in a way never before imagined. The need to stay connected also allows students to cheat in school, rude behavior toward others to predominate, and an increase in information junkies who are addicted to their connections.

This conundrum is at its worst in the arena of politics. All across the globe, leaders and would-be leaders use these devices to manipulate the facts as best they can to keep their populations, and the rest of the world, as ignorant as possible. In this way, they spread disinformation and obfuscate facts in ways that distorts the positions and the facts so that they look good to their constituents and can get themselves re-elected.

The boon of this age is that there is all of this information available to help educate the masses. The bane is that, without context and meaning, plus with all of the disinformation at hand, it takes a great deal of effort to sift through the data and come to any meaningful conclusions.

I think it is time to start disconnecting, powering down, and taking a breath. Only by doing this can we gain the perspective we need on this overload of information and provide ourselves a means to handle the double-edged sword that our technology provides us.

Thursday Thoughts

I have enjoyed Smallville again this season, after the crap-fest that was most of last season's episodes. On last night's episode, however, the situations that came up really caused me to notice the inconsistent ways that the writers of that show treat their characters and past experiences.

Clark, for example, has many opportunities where he could easily reference situations from the past where he was right to follow his instincts, where the person in question did "get better," and where everything was a case of mistaken identity. Yet, when his parents are uncharacteristically harsh and accusatory over his relationship with Alicia, all Clark can manage is a stupified look.

Chloe, of all the characters on the show, should help people keep their facts straight, yet she was one of those who is on the bandwagon for accusing Alicia as well. Granted, she did not go as whole-hog as Lana, but she did give Clark some grief over Alicia.

Lana has been through so many of these situations herself (just how many times has she been possessed now?) that she should understand that things happen in Smallville that are so out of bounds that it borders on an acid trip. Let's see now, just off the top of my head I can think of the following situations where situations occurred in which she couldn't see the person: a super-speeder, someone using Clark's powers, an invisible person, a ghost, witches/magic, teleportation, and psychic abilities. All used to attack someone or do something in a way in which the person (or others) couldn't see who was doing the action. And this isn't counting the possessions, the switching of minds/bodies, or those with the power to mimic others making people think the wrong person was committing the acts. And yet Lana won't cut Alicia a little slack or believe Clark when he says Alicia was with him?

There is something to be said for having 'one-off' episodes that allow new viewers to jump on. One of the biggest problems with X-Files as it grew in popularity was that most of the episodes dealt with the overly complex alien abduction scenarios surrounding Mulder's sister. These episodes relied so heavily on the viewer's knowledge of previous episodes and the mythology of the show that new viewers struggled. Smallville has the exact opposite problem; they ignore so much of what has occurred in the mythology of the show that the characters look like brain-impaired idiots at times.

I realize it looks like I'm picking on Smallville. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy the show (and last night's episode). I also enjoy catching episodes of other teen shows, like Everwood, One Tree Hill, Veronica Mars, et al. Each of these shows struggles with this same situational problem-- in order for the particular episode to work, the writers must ignore character's experiences and growth. How many times on a teen drama do the characters learn the lesson that not telling someone the truth at the first opportunity is bad? Yet how many times does this basic plot twist come up? How many times did Dawson, Pacey, and Joey have to ignore their past in order to keep something secret just long enough so that it could hurt everyone and snowball into three or four more episodes worth of angst, only to turn around and have the characters do it again a few episodes later?

I know it is possible to write shows that avoid this cliche. Gilmore Girls and Joan of Arcadia both have avoided this pitfall. Those characters learn from their mistakes and then make new ones. And the audience grows with them. I particularly like how Gilmore Girls actually references those past episodes in making a point. Just like in the viewer's real lives, where we learn from, or at least remember, our mistakes and think of them when a situation comes up that is similar. These writers play to the audiences intelligence rather than dumbing it down to the masses.

So, to the current TV writers out there: trust your audience. Write up to their intelligence instead of down to their ignorance. Keep your characters consistent and use past episodes as a mean of growth and engagement.

Exclamation

As I drove home last night, the sky was awash in dirty slate and indigo cirrus clouds way up high. In the center of this sea of sameness was one, deep-red, nimbus cloud stretched out a bit and broken just right to look like a large red exclamation point floating in the sky.

Then the sun went below the horizon and this emphatic sign melded with the purples and blues of the rest of the night's sky and was gone.

Personality Types

So I found and decided to take two different, but similar, online personality quizzes based on actual psychological tests.

On both of them, I came back as the "Rational/Architect" type and, specifically, INTP. I would have to guess that is very close to my actual personality results as both test came back with the identical results (even the percentages were in the same ranges for each personality descriptor).

What surprised me the most was how low the intuitive/perceptive scores came back. I have always lived my life based more on Wisdom and Experience than Intelligence or Book learning. That is the one area where my sister and I really differ; while both intelligent, thoughtful people, I was always the 'street smart' one and she was always the 'book smart' one.

But then I started thinking about it even more. For example, I always loved the sciences, all branches, but had trouble with the math. I always was strong in english, writing, comprehension, but was never good at new languages. I enjoy watching and evaluating people, breaking them down and figuring out how they tick-- as long as I don't really need to get to know them personally.

Now, people who know me are well aware of my introverted side. And it would be no surprise that I would score my highest percentage in that area. I work by myself, most of the fun activities I enjoy are solitary, and I don't like groups larger than my immediate friends or one-on-one encounters.

Very interesting new perspective on myself. And, here comes the Architect side of things, I'm wonder how I can use this information to invoke change (if change is needed)? These sites also didn't offer any suggestions as to which other personality types with which I would most get along.

To anyone who can offer suggestions: please do. It would be appreciated.

Masks

I friend of mine got me thinking today about the masks we wear. Or, not so much the masks we wear but how we act when we wear masks.

My friend is normally a conservative, quiet, proper woman. She has recently discovered the freedom involved with dressing up in costume and acting. At her company’s Halloween get together, as well as another event, she was in full costume and discovered the joys of singing and “acting the part” with her fellow employees. I mentioned how shocked our former colleagues at a company at which we both worked would be to see this side of her.

Playing dress-up and acting is just one mask people wear. Others include using drugs, most notably alcohol, as well as actual physical masks, and titles or positions.

In studies it is found that when people are served alcohol free beers without their knowledge, most individuals still exhibit the exact same loss of inhibitions and behavior as when served a drink. This begs the question: is alcohol really to blame, or is it an excuse people use for aberrant behavior? You just need to go to your company’s holiday party to see the types of things enacted under the guise of the "freedom" that alcohol provides.

Many people use positions of authority and their titles as a sort of mask. I have seen many people who I have known to be nice, normal, every day individuals who become near-lunatics when given an ounce of power. They use the excuse that they are the leader, they are in charge, as an excuse to berate and belittle others in ways they would never do if the positions were reversed.

Another area you see aberrant behavior from people who would never act that way normally is online. In chat rooms, on blogs and message boards, and in online games, you will see people purposely try to be upsetting and run contrary to others because of the mask of anonymity the environment affords them. In my current favorite game, City of Heroes, there was a person who used the Broadcast chat channel to spew anti-Semitic, pro-Nazi hate speech to all who were on that server. He thought he was untouchable to everyone; we just used the in-game services to petition him and that character was quickly booted from the game and the individual’s account was banned. His belief that he could anonymously spew his hatred turned out to be a fraud—the game tracked what he typed and, when I and others complained, they only had to track his messages to his character and on to his account where the person’s actual name, address, and credit card number were located. His anonymity vanished.

I think the last bastions of mask-wearing, and the most prevalent, are when we get into our vehicles and when we are at group events (like sports, concerts, parades, et al). Surrounded in that steel cage with tinted windows and sunglasses on, we act in ways that we would be ashamed of if caught in the supermarket or on the sidewalks. We speed around people, cut them off, yell obscenities, and engage in other destructive behavior. The recent melee that occurred in Detroit during the Indiana/Pistons basketball game is another good example. The mob mentality of those people was appalling; many people were throwing food and punches because they thought they were anonymous behind their mask of “crowd.” They forgot about the cameras watching every move that occurred.

There is a great line in an otherwise forgettable movie, Hollow Man, that Kevin Bacon’s characters says. Now, I’m quoting from memory, so forgive me if I don’t get it exactly right: “It’s amazing what you’ll do when you don’t have to look yourself in the mirror.” His character went on to rape an unsuspecting woman, cause havoc at the lab, and ultimately killed most of his colleagues. The masks we wear are a means by which we can avoid looking ourselves in the eye. The mask is somehow "someone else."

This natural tendency of human beings to do more when behind their mask can also be used for good. Someone once asked me why so many of the comic book heroes wear a mask. My answer was so that they could be free to interdict in events that they otherwise would be too fearful of reprisals for doing. Think about it; if a fearful man dressed as a bat flew in and stopped a crime, no one could trace who it was or wear to send the bill. If Bruce Wayne stops a crime, the criminals know who to target, the lawyers know where to send the indictments, and the police know where to go to arrest the vigilante/good samaritan who helpd.

Our police force and military are two good, real-world examples of how the mask of anonymity can be used for good. Because of their uniforms and the nameless, faceless quality they have with most of the public, police and military forces are able to enact their orders without fear of general reprisals. As the public, we see those uniforms and we immediately form a conclusion about those who wear it and virtually ignore the face staring back at us. Most of the time, this is a beneficial and symbiotic relationship that allows them to do their job and the public to accept it and feel safe.

We all wear masks, every day. Some of us have very a different public persona than our private one. Some of us wear a title or a badge to allow us the freedoms we need. Some look to drugs to mask insecurities or to mask a need to act in unusual ways. Some need a mask to grant freedom while others use it to hide sins. Still others seek to bury themselves in roles or to stretch their understanding through acting.

What masks do you wear?

Calvin and Hobbes

I miss the old Calvin and Hobbes comic strip. It so perfectly captured the angst of the world using its two anti-heroes. Bill Watterson was so good at driving his point home and showing today's reality through his protagonist's eyes. He had a way of perfectly expressing the child within all of us while pointing out the absurdities of the adult world.

I cannot help but wonder what he/they would have to say about 9/11, Enron, the (second) war in Iraq, Martha Stewart, and a host of other problems that have cropped up since this strip was cancelled.

Relaxing over Christmas 

Servicing the Customer or Providing Customer Service?

I'm in the process of buying a car. Being a good boy, I went through the process at my bank first to ensure I had the financing. I had already done the research and settled on the car I wanted. As my bank is closed on the weekend, and I bought the car on Saturday, today was the first day I could contact the bank and set up the loan closing appointment with them.

I had been speaking with a pleasant woman named Martha whose uncertainty about certain things made me think she was a little new to the process. However, this is not a problem with me as I'm generally a pretty amiable fellow and I am rarely in a rush. I've spoken with Martha three seperate times concerning the issue and she has been helpful each time.

Today I set up a meeting with her for 1 pm (my lunch hour) at which time I would present her with the paperwork, she would go over them, and type up the final papers from the bank for my signature. About 20 minutes later I get a rather abrupt phone call back from one Abigail (who I learn later is the assistant branch manager).

Abigail is telling me a very different story. She says I cannot come in without first faxing the paperwork to the office for them to go over and do some preliminary work on. When I explain that I do not have access to a fax, she asks me if I can go somewhere that does. I politely explain that I am at work, and I will be going to their office during my lunch hour, so, no, I cannot go somewhere and get them faxed early. Abigail continues to be a "negative nancy" about every comment I make. I offer solutions, like stopping by today to turn in the paperwork and waiting while they do the paperwork. No, you can't do that! It'll take us 2 hours to do this! How about I drop off the paperwork today and schedule an appointment for tomorrow? No! We need it now! Everything was no, no, no. She refuses to work with me on a solution.

I then politely ask if there is someone else at the bank with whom I can discuss this issue. She hesitates, then says that the bank manager is there. I again very politely ask to speak with him.

Adam comes on the phone a little while later. I explain that I have had three very nice conversations with Martha and she has explained what I need to do, that it may be a wait if I go in today for everything, and that I do not have ready access to a fax machine. I then further explain that from the moment Abigail called me, she was impeding this process and was a hinderance to me completing this transaction by blocking every attempt at a solution I provided.

Adam explained that Martha was new, that she was still training on this process, and that she may have miss-spoken the time needed and needs of the bank during our conversations. He then apologized to me for Abigail's poor customer service and answered a further question from me by explaining that she is actually one of the assistant managers of the branch. I then offer to him the same solutions I gave to Abigail and he not only says that any one of those is perfectly acceptable, but also goes on to suggest two other alternatives that I may use in order to finalize this process.

I thank him for his time, explain that I will be in at 1 pm to see either him or Martha, and that I did not want to have further dealings with Abigail on this matter due to what I felt was poor customer service. He apologized again and said that he would make sure that Martha was available to me at 1 pm this afternoon and that we could then make a new appointment to finalize the paperwork once she had everything she needed.

Now, why couldn't Abigail be as helpful and understanding as either Martha (the person in training who doesn't have the experience that she has) or Adam (who you would think would only promote someone who was customer-service oriented to be an assistant manager)?

I Think I Think

• If I am going at or under the speed limit, if I’ve engaged the clutch and am coasting up hill, and if I am still catching up to you, you may be traveling too slowly for the road.
• Don’t women know that size matters to men, too? (And I’m not referring to breast size, ladies.)
• The way people act toward each other, what they want, and the struggles of the sexes, has really changed little over the centuries. Mary of Nazarene and Mary of Magdelene would have had a lasting influence, a reactive relationship, and a profound effect on Jesus and on the founding of Christianity. Of course the threatened males of the time wanted to minimize the women’s role and maximize their own—just like men today try to do with smart, driven, opinionated, influential women.
• Love and Hate are not opposites. They are different aspects of the same coin. Apathy is the opposite of any of the passionate feelings like Love and Hate.
• Fear is the one thing that holds humanity (as a whole and as individuals) back more than any other single influence.
• “Lost” will ultimately fail because it is too convoluted. It should have been a television maxi series where the creator, writers, directors, and actors had a definite beginning, middle, and end in mind. It will devolve into melodrama sooner rather than later, with progressively more absurd plot devices to keep the “tension” and “mystery” high.
• Back when there were only three networks, you got the three best ideas on the air for any one hour of television from each of the networks. Those three ideas had to beat out the hundreds of others that other people came up with. Now that there are 500 channels, of course there is a dilution of the talent and quality of what you can watch. With that dilution viewer migration is inevitable (to channels with items that interest them and to other outlets for their time).
• Women want someone who is tall, dark, handsome, funny, smart, who will act like a bad-boy and the dangerous type they are attracted to, yet will be really sensitive and treat them well. Ladies, he doesn’t exist. A bad-boy will always stay a bad boy—if he treats you like dirt now, he will always treat you that way.
• In the late 1800s and early 1900s, Nicola Tesla foresaw and helped to realize much of the modern world in which we live today.
• Why is it that, as our vision blurs with age, our perception clarifies?
• Unless America finds a way to keep jobs here and make them worthwhile, it will kill itself slowly from within. We are already hemorrhaging.
• When I see certain actors in movies, like Morgan Freeman and Philip Seymour Hoffman, I expect a certain level of quality. Conversely, when I see certain actors in television products, like Dean Cain or Lorenzo Lamas in a Sci-Fi pictures original, I expect a certain level of quality.
• There are glaring holes in both the theory of Creationism and the theory of evolution/big bang theory. Yet neither is mutually exclusive. Why must we fight over this? If you believe in God, why must you discount that He may have created the universe in such a way that it could then perpetuate itself (while also having inherent tests of faith)? If you believe in science, how can you ignore the nearly impossible leaps and subtle design that are found in all branches of all sciences?
• Human beings are generalists. Anything that pushes us to an extreme is likely bad for us. This is true in every aspect and facet of our lives.
• If you slow down for every green light, you fulfill your own prophecy that one of the next green lights will turn yellow and you will have to stop. Drive with the flow of traffic.
• Western medicine ignores the patient in order to solve the problem. Force your doctor to talk with you, not at you, and take an active roll in your own health. It will make your doctor pay attention and learn even as you are learning from him. If your doctor refuses you this, you need a new doctor. If you can make yourself a human being to your doctor, instead of a social security number and an HMO paycheck, you will get great care.