Probably pretty ugly if using Internet
Explorer 9 or earlier.
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Some Days in the Middle of March
The 14th–Pi Day
In honor of Pi Day, I offer this story form Justin Wilson.
A young man from the deepest part of the Atchafalaya Swamp showed promise in school, and so was sent off to the university. The family was very proud of him, as he was the first of his family to go to college, and actually the first to leave the family homestead.
Well, the young man arrived at college and was taken in by the social life. He stopped going to class, partied late and slept later.
At Thanksgiving, the young man went home. All his relatives doted on him. When asked about school, he changed the topic.
After dinner, his gran'pappy said to him, 'Well, boy, you've been up in that school for months now. What have you learned? Say something smart.' The boy drew a breath, stammered and finally said, 'Pi-r-square.'
The old man stepped up and briskly slapped the young man upside the head. 'What foolishness are they teaching you there? Everybody knows that pie are round. Cornbread are square!'
What can we learn from this story?
- Thee's a difference between book learning and real world learning.
- Get a story ready for your return home.
- Anticipate questions.
- Adopt the philosopher's stance:
If you were smart enough to understand, you'd be a philosopher. You're not, so I can't.
- Parents just never understand.
- Never go home again.
We have now completed 20 percent of the year.
I think we need a more contemporary version of Julius Caesar, like if done on social media. Spurinna: @jcaesar beware the ides of March.
jcaesar: nada so far.#beware #ides
spurinna: @jcaesar beware ides!
marcbsenator @jcaesar I unfriend thee. #idesofmarch
jcaesar: @spurinna @marcbsenator et tu, brute? First facebook, now twitter?
spurinna: @jcaessar told you so. #idesbad marcantony @marcbsenator i'm going 2 talk the bro up, dude. #friendsromascountrymen
The 16th–Separator Day
For those of you who follow college basketball, the 16th will be Big March Madness Upset Day, as UMBC, the 16th seed, beat No. 1 Virginia in the NCAA Tournament.
For those of you into signs, portents, and numerology, it's noteworthy that the 16th seed beat the #1 seed for the first time ever on the 16th day of the month.
For the rest of us, this is a day that gives us a breather between the frenzy of the Ides of March and the excitement of St. Patrick's Day.
The 17th–St. Patrick's Day
In Ireland, it is a religious feast day, heavy on the church and praying. and some parades. In the United States, it is a day of parades, drinking, wearing of the green, marathons, drinking green beer or otherwise. It also seems to spark more non-related political controversy than other celebrations.
Frankly, it all seems a little tired, and tiresome. And I'm of Irish descent. #heresy?
The 19th–Passion Sunday
This is a brilliant Catholic concept. First you have Lent–40 days of prayer, fasting, self-sacrifice and general bleah in February and March. Then just when people are settling into the routine, or falling off the Lenten wagon, you drop in Passion Sunday (the fourth Sunday of Lent), which is (or was) an intensifier, intended to remind (or warn) people of more prayer, fasting, self-sacrifice, and reminders of all that Jesus sacrificed for us.
Brilliant! Simply brilliant!
And a look ahead and back, all at the same time
There's been a lot of hand-wringing in these here parts by professional hand-wringers and TV meteorologists (mostly the same people) about the chance of snow on the first day of spring.
No big whoop, I think,
snow's pretty common in late March, at least back home. Besides, didn't Phil see his shadow? So we're going to have six more weeks of winter no matter what. This is just part of that.. But then, I got to thinking, after the 40 days of Lent thing, about numbers.
So I decided to do some math (the sacrifices I make for you, dear readers!). There are 47 (or so) days from Feb 2 to the first day of spring (Mar 20, 21, or 22–it depends), or a little under eight weeks. Or, no matter if Phil sees his shadow or not, we're going to have six more weeks of winter. And snow sometime in he next day or two.
Another non-event to remove from the calendar.
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Things I Sorta Didn't Learn from Dave Barry But Did Learn from Mr. Rogers
A while back (while back: a unit of time roughly equal to
I don't remember) I read (and recommended) Dave Barry's
25 Things I've Learned in 50 Years. My favorite thing is the last thing–
Nobody cares if you can’t dance well. Just get up and dance.
I said that was my favorite. That does not mean I ever acted on it by getting up and dancing. I think something may have lacked the necessary oomph or conviction (on Dave's part).
Now, PBS is pusahing a show about Mr. Rogers. In the ads, Mr. Rogers never says
Get up and sing, even if you can't. No, he leads by example. I can sing better than Mr. Rogers, and I can't carry a tune in a bucket if Renee Fleming was helping me lift it.
I don't know if I'm going to sing in public. But if Mr. Rogers can sing on the tee-vee with people watching, well, maybe I can get up nd sing too.
So if you see people running away from someplace with blood running from their ears, well, you'll know I gave it a shot.
They Said It.
There's usually a better way to tell a story than a chronological one.
Dr. Nick Morgan
Get in Line, Chelsea.
Chelsea Clinton claims she and Ivanka Trump are not talking. Two things:
1) There are a lot of people who are not talking with Ivanka Trump. Me, for example. Probably the pharmacist at the corner drug store. Lots.
2) Sometimes you catch a break.
Arse over teakettle.
A subheading on a Huffington Post article proclaimed,
Oprah asked God for a clear sign.
I thought it was usually the other way around. I know for a fact that He is a member of Oprah's Book Club.
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Proofs Against the Existence of an Intelligent Creator
Oh, No! Headlines
Argentine Navy Shoots at Illegal Chinese Fishing Boa.
It was pink, wasn't it? I just know it was pink. When will they learn? The Argentine Navy hates pink. They will let a discreet white boa slip by, or turn a blind eye to a neon green one, but never pink. It's just rubbing their noses in it. You deserve what you got, Chinese Fishing boa.
Not the metric system
When exactly did school buses become a standard unit of measure? I just heard my third reference to something being
as long as a school bus this week. There are many lengths of school buses. I presume they're referring to the long ones, but I still don't know how long that is. Why not a
city bus or a
box car or
an eight-passenger executive jet? I don't know how long any of those are, either. But at least every boxcar is as long as any other box car. They should use those instead.
My email provider is pretty good about catching spam. It's rare that any slips through. Every day, though, I check the spam notification email to make sure they weren't a little too aggressive and trap something that I actually want to read.
Most of the spammers cover the usual topics. Vanna White photos. Cheap printer ink. Hot Russian Babes want to date you. Nigerian oil minsters. Emails I seem to have sent to myself but don't remember. Military grade flashlights and pens. The ultimate back shaver.
I wonder what web site I visited prompted that one. Anyway, most of the back shavers look like staplers, hole punches, or razors on selfie sticks. These are not my idea of the ultimate back shaver. The ultimate back shaver is blond, Swedish, named Inga or something akin, and comes armed with, well, Inga is a professional and she'll know what to bring.
I hope it's not one of those stapler-looking thingies, though. They scare me.
Arguments in Favor of the Existence of an Intelligent Creator
Stretching in bed in the morning before you get up.
I'm trying to reduce the stack of magazines next to the chair. The Fast Company I selected had an article about 136 habits of productive people. I must not be hanging in the good productivity circles–I recognized almost none of the people. It was hard to track common threads, since they didn't ask anyone the same questions, except for get up and go to bed times. With one exception (Venus Williams), everyone got up around 5 AM or before and often worked late.
Short story: I will never be successful. OK, productive. Aren't they the same thing? I cannot get up at 5 AM. Without my cat alarm clock, I'd have trouble with 6:15. They didn't talk to any writers, but I know a lot of them are early risers, too.
Doomed, I am. And at such as early age
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How You Are Polluting the Air
According to a study in Science Magazine, things we have in our houses and use every day contribute as much to air pollution as diesel engines..
- hand lotion
- printer ink
- cleaning products
Terrible! Awful! So now it's not big companies, big sources, it's three ounces of deodorant. It's things we all have that are going to kill us. I'm sure we've all sat next to someone who was wearing waaay too much perfume and was trying to asphyxiate us on the spot. Of course, we've also been in the presence of someone who we wish was killing the atmosphere with deodorant.
Before we start hand-wringing, there's something the scientists are not telling us. Once we identify risks, we prioritize them. So we address the worst cause of pollution first. Once that is eliminated/mitigated, we move on to the next. Sooner or later, we get down to household chemicals. Now, there may not be any more household chemicals in the air, but as a percentage of pollutants, they're a lot higher, because a lot of the terrible stuff that was there before, choking our lungs and killing us all, like cow farts (excuse me, bovine methane emissions) or the wood smoke from Texas barbecue, is not around any more.
Should we do something? Sure. Do we have to run around waving our hands in the air, or passing rash legislation, or engaging in general shaming of people who bathe? Probably not such a good idea. What might be a good idea is for the scientists to stop running around waving their hands in the air. That's a big reason why scientists are getting progressively less credible. They're waving their hands in the air more and more, and creating more air pollution with every new pronouncement they make.
I do wonder what will become of the zero footprint people, especially the pious ones, now hat they've found out that moving off the grid and growing their own kale was not enough, that they are still causing damage to the universe. Unfortunately, I'll never know, because those people have moved off the grid and don't have Facebook accounts. Or telephones. Or indoor plumbing (do you realize what a well does to the balance of the aquifer?). Or desire to talk to non-believers. Preach at, yes. Taslk to, no.
I'm sure some scientists will track them down and ask, and we'll get another report soon. The conclusions will be: we need more studies. Everybody run around and wave your hands in the air.
The Despair of the Writer
Last week, I participated in an open-mic event. I was going to participate by doing nothing (watch, listen, and maybe applaud), but then, just to be ready in case I decided to read, I printed a half-dozen poems I had written in the past year or two that I thought would fit within the time limit. Unlike other events where I've read, I did not prepare something special (known in the biz as an occasional piece) for the event. Sort of like Kleenex for literary types–read once, throw away.
When I looked at the poems i had selected, I realized that I could throw those away, too, except this was stuff I thought was pretty good. But I immediately jumped on the poor stuff. The unclear. The dull. The lame images. The not-poetry. I started to revise. I finally selected the least-bad poem to read, read it, received applause, and came home to make the chanes from earlier in the day, as well as change a couple of other things that caught my eye.
This is why I never send things out to be published. I'll look at a poem or story when I'm ready to send it off, and realize it's not what I thought it should be, not what I wanted, it's just not right. I'll fix it, but then it goes back on the hard drive. Shampoo, rinse, repeat.
You may be wondering why (how) I get anything posted. here Mostly, I work quick and don't reread for content and sense. Also, I know you are very kind.
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Flynn explains surprise victory
We cuught up with Flynn, the surprise winner of of the 2018 Westminster Dog Show over a bowl of kibble to get his reaction to the stunning upset.
Oh, I wouldn't say it was an upset. When you get to the finals at WDS, every dog is equally worthy, all champions. I just wanted it more, Flynn said as he motioned to the waitress to top off his water dish.
We all had a strategy. Bean went the cute route, with his sitting up, but he came across to the judges as too needy. Lucy thought this was the year for understated elegance. Winston thought scruffy would take home the prize. Ty went with being the crowd favorite, and of course Slick worked the hardest at it. I just wanted it more, and practiced visualizing myself accepting the blue ribbon and then talking to Hoda and Savannah the next morning. That, plus a dash of adorable puff-ball Flynn-ness.
I have to give a shout out to Mary, a genius Genius! with a blow dryer, Mostly though, I just wanted it more.
After this? I really don't know. I need a little down time. Maybe a beach somewhere. I don't know if my people have heard from Disney yet, either just to visit the 'World, or maybe check out some movie gigs. Maybe a little volunteer work at a senior citizens center–I like the oldsters. Otherwise, I'm just looking forward to some quality lap time.
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My sister-in-law is a big lost-dog person, posting missing-pet alerts regularly on Facebook. Since she lives two states over, I am not expecting to see the pooch trotting down my street, and so normally give the post a quick glance and move on.
But a recent post made me sit up and take notice:
A friend of mine who lives on Scotch Meadows Dr. said a pair of loose chihuahua sized dogs darted into the road, which caused a double car accident. Does anyone know who the dogs might belong to? (I don't have any details about human injuries, or what the dogs look like.)
Or another way of saying it: CRAZED CHIHUAHUAS TERRORIZE SMALL TOWN, BRING DEVASTATION AND CARNAGE! MS-13 MASCOTS HOLD NEIGHBORHOOD HOSTAGE--TO FEAR! UNKNOWN, ANONYMOUS TINY PETS LEAVE LARGE TRAIL OF DESTRUCTION, TWISTED METAL IN THEIR WAKE!
But it got better.
A chimed in with an update:
The guy was probably in his early 40s in a white car and the other car was an older woman. There was one dog that was a chocolate brown color...small and plump and then a tan chihuahua type dog. One of them nipped at the guy when he got out to inspect the damage.
So in addition to mayhem, we have automobiles disguising themselves as people, and (as if I needed it) more proof that chihuahuas are mean little m--f--ers.
There may be a found poem in the original posts, too, but I'm worn out and will let you perform your own versification.
A Scientific Poem (an oxymoronic conundrum)
Until Poetry in the Corner returns (I'm waiting for the paint to dry), I offer up this small observation.
- the conclusion of
- the scientific study
- does not include
- the phrase
More study is needed
- has failed
- as a scientist.
Just saw this headline:
The Passion of the Christ sequel on the way from Mel Gibson with original Jesus.
So many questions. I'm guessing it will be called
More Passion, as I can't imagine Mel Gibson directing a resurrection story. Presuming
original Jesus means the original actor (Jim Caviezel, also the Count of Monte Christo), he's had 13 years to age, and is now 50. That'll be some heavy makeup. If it means the original original Jesus, i.e., Son of God Jesus, well, I'm surprised that Mel has the kind of persuasive power to draw him from his current gig.
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OK, this is two days late. Story of my life. Sue me.
Actually, it has become my life story. This is not about the bogus event in Pennsylvania. It's about the movie, a comedy classic starring Bill Murray, possibly his finest work, spawner of memes, a thoughtful romantic comedy, and a story about overcoming adversity and the potential for personal growth.
It's not funny.
I will admit that I've only seen most of the film, in bits and pieces. it seems to be the way I see films now. Life is like that. The pieces I've seen are good, I like Andie, there's just the right amount of exasperation, but the groundhog is a scenery-chewer.
It's the premise I'm having trouble with.
It's like, What do you mean it's Groundhog Day? I just celebrated Groundhog Day (celebrate=I say,
its Groundhog Day) um, a year ago. It doesn't seem like that long. I just moved into this house recently, uh, 13 years ago. I'm driving a brand new, uh, three-year old car. And when I tell my wife she's still
the official sweetie of the new millennium, she gently reminds me that the millennium is not so new anymore. I think there's still a lot more millennium coming than we've experienced, so it's still new to me, But I've learned in (Oh my God! is it really that long?) fifteen years of marriage not to argue.
Groundhog Day is not so great. Maybe if I was getting Bill Murray pay, or was warned it was going to happen, or could keep reminding myself
It's only a movie it would be OK. But it's not–a movie or OK.
I guess the only thing for it is to just get ready for the next Easter-Fourth of July-birthday-anniversary-Thanksgiving-Christmas-New Years-Groundhog Day. It's coming, and sooner than I think.
Whose Style Guide Is That?
More and more, I've been seeing acronyms with initial caps only (Nasa instead of NASA, Wy instead of Wyoming, Darpa instead of DARPA). I'm sure some stye guide like Chicago or the Hipster's Guide to Language said it was OK (or Ok).
It's not. Please stop. Put it back correctly.
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Words I Never Thought I'd Hear On NPR
That's right, NPR used the phrase
zombie parasites. And to make it particularly creepy, they threw in
archeologist for effect.
The Last You Want to Read About Dr. Larry Nasser
175 years may sound like a long sentence, but it works out to a little more than one year per victim.
Why was this guy never described as a pedophile? He abused children. That's what we call people who abuse children. Pedophiles. Pedophile.
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Unsung Heroes of Computing
I don't know who invented
Undo, but thank you, thank you, thank you.
Why Do We Keep Reading Books We Don't Like?
No answer. Just an observation. I doubt I'm the only one that does it.
What Goes Wrong with Resolutions
I spent a lot of time last week talking about resolutions–mostly, about how I couldn't keep them.
Now, I think I know why. See if this works for you, too.
But first, an aside: if I was going to make resolutions, the list would/should include
Remember the names of authors who write things I like so I can give them credit and/or at least know where to go back to if I need to reference something.end aside. During the past week, I was cruising through the usual bloggery suspects, when I came across an article about getting organized. For some reason, that made me think about resolutions, and that made me realize that the reason (OK, one of the reasons) I don't keep resolutions is that they are unplanned. I usually have a vague sense of wanting to change something, but then I make the resolution, usually with no thought of how it will happen. Say the resolution is
Lose weight. Do I diet? If so, what diet? Just eat less? Exercise? What kind of exercise? When? Before work? After? Maybe just meditate. that's supposed to help. Or I could use Professor Harold Hill's thinkology (sorry, Professor Hill's program was the think system–totally different). Because of a lack of planning, and considering the path(s) I need to take to succeed, I will fail.
real resolution–remembering the name, author and location of something I've read. This is a long-standing problem. I've been doing it for decades now. So how do I fix it? Some options:
- keep a pen and paper handy to write down names and places
- read up/take a course in improving my memory
- read less, or less omnivorously
So that's step one. Now, to feasibility. One is feasible, but I have to know when I'm going to read, and then keep track of the little pieces of paper that I write things down on. Sort of a variation on the problem I discussed in
Arranging Life last week. Also, I'd spend all my time writing things down. All told, another source of frustration. Two. I think I have read about improving memory. It didn't stick. Take a course? There are other things I'd rather spend the time doing, like reading. Three. Really. Really? I don't know why that went on the list. Not gonna happen. Four. I take drugs to forget, so they won't help.I guess I could stop taking the drugs, but I keep forgetting.
Maybe I am just in a group of people who go through life unable to make unplanned changes. Yeah, that's it. I can blame nature and heredity! But one of those resolutions I would make if I made resolutions is
Stop blaming others for your own shortcomings.
So, dear readers, until the next series of brainf*rts... No wait, another non-resolution I cannot keep is
Stop with the self-deprecation. *Sigh.* We're five days into the year, and it's already messed up.
Which brings up another reason why making resolutions at the beginning of the year is such a bad idea–if you mess up, you have a whole year to live with the guilt and failure.