Wednesday, December 26, 2007

OBEY!

It’s the end of a year. Again. They keep coming (and ending). I suppose I shouldn’t complain, right? But… well, what’s up with this bald spot I’m growing? Oh, yeah, and that belly that’s getting bigger… AND, since we’re on the topic of complaints, why is the distance I need to see things clearly starting to change too?

I’ve noticed that in the past six-or-so years, I was getting pretty nostalgic. My thoughts would often wander back to my younger days. (See my June 2007 entry, for example!) I’d start to play that, “what if” game where I try to imagine “what if” I’d made different decisions in my life. For instance, what if I’d accepted that faculty position right out of graduate school. I’d probably still be living in Charleston! What students would I have bored with my lectures? I’d probably have been a full professor for years by now! What friends would I have had? Would the weather have ruined my house? You get the idea.

These past few months, though, I’ve not been so reminiscent. Maybe because I had my worst semester EVER. Or, maybe I (finally) got bored with that going-nowhere game. I’m looking more toward the future for now.

But, enough of this “dear diary” dribble!

I’ve been getting swept up by my “psychology of belief” interests lately. This coming semester I’ll be teaching a course on this topic (I’ve been toiling away making dowsing rods for my students to use – and keep – to illustrate aspects of belief formation). It’s been two years since the last time I started this course. I got REALLY burned out on the topic AND the apparent futility of it all.

It’s fascinating to see how cleverly people hold on to stupid beliefs, inconsistent beliefs, clearly-wrong beliefs, and bad beliefs. Hell, people are even pretty good at exchanging perfectly good beliefs for terrible beliefs if the idiotic beliefs are presented just the right way!

It burns me out to see how easily human thinking careens out of control (yes, even my OWN thinking – I’m not trying to climb any damn pedestals).

Imagine being a driving instructor. You tell the new student to turn left at the next intersection. “Watch out for that truck!” The student turns and avoids the truck. “OK, go straight through the next light and then take the right turn at the stop sign, but watch out for that bus!” The student seems to follow all your instructions just fine. Eventually, you end up back at the driving school. “Watch out for that motorcycle!” They watch out and park just fine. Yippie, a new driver!

After they pocket their shiny new license, you watch them drive away – and immediately crash into oncoming traffic. How depressing.

Anyway… maybe this semester will be different? Maybe this time I will do something right and actually reach a few more?

Wednesday, November 28, 2007

Dulcet drips of tenacious time

The year’s end draws closer and I missed my second chance to get a photo of the banner that was hung in Coraopolis this month. It was there last year (for the first time, I think), but I missed that photo-op as well. The Pittsburgh Veterans take a trip to the WWII memorial in DC close to veteran’s day. A very nice idea. The slogan, however, leaves something to be desired in my book.

Here are two links about the “project”:

(1) Pittsburgh WWII Veterans Memorial Trip homepage

(2) Post-Gazette Article from last year

It’s bad enough that I ruminate so much about mortality as it is. I can only imagine what it will be like when I hit my 80’s (assuming I get that far). In fact, I don’t even like those life insurance commercials that try to guilt me into buying or upping my insurance as soon as possible so that my loved ones will enjoy greater comfort once I’m gone! There’s too much of a sense of URGENCY to those commercials. It takes me back to when I was a kid and I thought people in the TV could see me, or knew about me. Remember the birthday list on Romper Room!? Well, when I see that guy dressed in his ready-to-go-to-my-funeral-suit telling me that I could go AT ANY TIME, my paranoia thoughts start churning, “Is he talking to ME? Does he know something I should know?” You get the idea.

So, to think that someday someone might start a slogan to get ME to do something or see something or go somewhere or whatever, (BEFORE IT IS TOO LATE!) makes me a bit uncomfortable. That sounds like a fun bus-trip, for sure. Every time I’d look up at the guy in the seat next to mine, I’d wonder, “Hey, that guy looks pretty old; wonder how much longer he’s got?” Of course, that guy’s looking my way and is probably thinking very similar thoughts about my raggedy face.

My neighbor is a WWII veteran (Leo). He loves to tell his war stories. He jumped out of airplanes as a member of the 101st Airborne. Also known as the “Screaming Eagles”. Leo loves to tell his war stories, and Leo was well decorated. In addition to his love of telling war stories, he has a Screaming Eagles baseball cap and it’s decorated with miniatures of his medals (including the Purple Heart). He loves to tell his war stories. Whenever he is in public, the cap goes with him. You can rest assured, Leo will be telling some war stories. I’ve never seen him wear the cap and be ignored. There’s always someone who comments on it, or, thanks him for his service. And Leo is ready with stories to tell. Leo really loves to tell his war stories.

Leo lives right next door with his sister Anne, and they have become like family to us. It’s a nice feeling to see them there, and it’s a comfort to us that we can count on them to check in on our dogs if we need them to do so. I really think that Leo (and maybe his sister) would appreciate a trip to the memorial. We’ll have to set it up for them next year.

Before it’s too late.

Wednesday, October 31, 2007

Satanic Apples

Happy Halloween.

I’ve been very busy this month (and still am, frankly). But, I thought I’d take a few minutes to share a brief experience.

At the beginning of the month, I went to the John Edward presentation (or “event”) at the Sheraton Station Square in Pittsburgh.

Cost was around $200 per ticket.

He’s easy to listen to, and, I’d say that he has a nice sense of humor. Let’s just say he’s able to charm a crowd.

My father is very much “in to” the psychic scene (people such as John Edward, Rosemary Altea, etc.). We got him a ticket to the show (which is something he’s wanted for quite some time) and I got one for me, so he wouldn’t be there alone. Plus, I admit that I was interested to see how it worked.

We had a nice dinner before the show, then walked to the hotel where the seating would no-doubt be limited. There, we stood in line for about 45 minutes.

I’d wondered if he might have “plants” in the line trying to find information secretly to pass on to John before his show. There was a lone woman about in her late 30’s to early 40’s who stood behind my father and I. She was attentive and had her cell phone out frantically text-messaging while the three ladies behind her chatted about the tragedies they’ve endured in their lives. Loved ones lost, and so on.

“Ah-HA!” Was my thinking… I decided to stroll up and down the line to see if there were other “texters” who might be feeding info to the so-called psychic. There were maybe two others.

I decided to keep an eye on our texter and see where she sat, etc. I also wanted to follow the locations of the women we could all overhear talking about the dead relatives they were hoping to hear from. It would be interesting to see if they ended up as “targets” for Mr. Edward’s show.

We eventually got inside and sat knee-to-knee with other foolish-with-their-money folks. I lost track of our texter-lady… As I suspected might happen (but then later I saw that she’s sat a ways back behind us, oh well).

John showed up, to the obvious adoration of the many fans (mostly women, by the way). Probably there were 90 women for every five males in the audience. He never used any of the information I’d have guessed he’d use from secret text-messagers. So, probably there were none. I was just being super-suspicious.

Nonetheless, I was not impressed by his performance. It was all-to-clearly (to me) a cold-reading performance.

There were a lot of people there, and he would pick an area and “stab” with something like, “Is there someone here who has a father-figure who passed that missed a graduation?” He’d narrow to a small group and keep drilling for a hit. His approach is to ALWAYS try to make a “hit” in the sense that even if the person standing kept saying “no” he’d probe and push around until he could find some type of match. Occasionally to the delight of the audience.

In the above example, a small family stood and the younger adult male was answering “no” about his high school and college graduations. Dad made it to both. After a while of pushing, Edward finally got the guy to remember that, “Oh, wait, I got two degrees in college, and dad missed one of the ceremonies.”

OK, people, the hits are there if we can just open up to them.

Sure, that was a cool hit. But then later, a similar setup with a, “Your mother is saying something about New York?” Followed by nothing from the family. This went on and on, and even I could think of possible hits having to do with New York. Then out of desperation, a family member offered, “Well, sometimes when I drive to work, I think I go past a little restaurant called the New York Deli…?”

This was instantly taken as another one of those “Come on people, open up, the hits are there!” But really, despite the supportive laughter about another bone-head who can’t open up to the obvious hits, I wasn’t impressed by that one.

John is really slick in being able to tease out likely bits of general information, and the audience (or targets) embellish some details that can then be reworked into more specific-sounding hits. As another example, he picked a section and asked, “What’s the association with Gilligan’s Island?” It took a while, but someone was able to say that, in the country they are from, there is a little beach-island nearby that is called Gilligan’s Island, although she’d never been there. Again, I could probably have matched that also because my mother hated that show, even though we (my sister and I) watched it quite a bit growing up. I really think that would that have been close enough to match John’s probe.

My main sense, and what I did mostly, was watch people melt under the spotlight of having loved-ones let them know they are doing fine. Tears a-many were shed. Heads nodded at almost every morsel Edward blurbled out. It was a sort of rapture. It really made me sad.

If I wasn’t a pessimist before the show, I am certainly one now. The ease with which people seem to fall for this smoke paints a dim view of humanity’s future in my mind. Imagine taking the Jetson’s out of their cartoon and putting Fred and Wilma into it as replacements. We are a modern society with such superstitious and mystical beliefs being constantly recycled and perpetuated that I fear for humanity.

Actually, I fear for the world! Not because of what humans will do to it in their fiery spiral toward destiny, but because I doubt that we’ll be even good enough at doom to completely wipe ourselves out. The scourge will probably rise again to torture the planet and its non-human (and human) inhabitants some more.

Wow. How’s that for a downer of a blog-entry?

Saturday, September 29, 2007

Techno-RANT!

WARNING: This blog-entry has displaced another blog-entry I’d planned to write. However, for the sake of the breakables around me during times of frustration such as this, it’s better I get the anger out of my system this way for now.

I am so alarmingly tired of the “technology experts” at my school.

Currently, once I press the power button to my work computer, it takes about an hour and fifteen minutes before it becomes as close to reasonable to use as it’s going to get. Sadly, that's NOT even an exaggeration. On the bright side, I’ve been promised a replacement computer. (But then again, I remember getting promised a pony when I was a kid.)

So, essentially, I cannot work effectively at school. But at least I have the equipment to work at home! All I need to do is access a program called Citrix and I can access what’s called my “H-Drive” at school (wasn’t there a bomb similarly named?). This H-Drive is where I diligently back-up my work every day in case my laptop dies (which it doesn’t have the decency to do; since laptop-death is pretty much the only way to get a replacement faster).

Oops, sorry Steve. The brilliant folks in IT (which I think is just the last two letters of their full acronym) have “upgraded” our access channels. NOW, the Citrix I used to use won’t allow me access to my H-Drive. In fact, now it only lets me use the school software from off-campus… of course, that means that I have to carry that stuff with me if I want to work on it away from school. See? That’s called “convenience” at my school!

So then, how do I access my H-Drive from home? The brilliant folks in IT have provided us a handy link on the web to a program called Netstorage. This program allows us to SEE what’s on our H-Drive, but that’s about it. The interface allows you to THINK that you can do stuff, but, like pressing the elevator key multiple times in succession, or, like moving the temperature dial up or down in a classroom, nothing really useful results.

All I can seem to download are files containing “links” to the information I want, except that the links do not really work. Of course, there is a trick where you can select multiple files to download, which then are packaged into a “zip-file” that is downloaded. This is particularly neat for Vista users who may run into trouble with zip-files, but ultimately there is little actual risk since the zip-file that is downloaded contains nothing anyway.

Before signing off, let me grudgingly apologize to the GOOD folks in the IT department who are subjected to the wrath of irate users (and abusers) when the decisions to make such brilliant changes to the system are out of their actual control. They do the best they can with what they have to work with (and in spite of their brilliant leaders who make such brilliant decisions).

Finally, although I hope it is redundant of me, I guess I should explain that when I used the word “brilliant” up above, I was using it in the same way I’d describe the thinking behind installing screen-doors on submarines. THAT kind of “brilliant”.

Friday, August 31, 2007

...and so it begins again...

The first week of classes has zipped by pretty fast for me. Maybe because I felt as though I was only just barely prepared for each class. Time really seems to fly when you feel like you don't have enough time to finish everything you want to finish.

Next week is a short week (Monday being a holiday). HOWEVER, as it turns out, my subjective feelings of short weeks depends on the way they are shortened: When Monday is dropped, the week seems LONGER than a regular week to me. BUT, when Friday is dropped, then it feels like a pretty short week.

I think the reason the Monday-off makes my week longer is because it screws me up. See if you can follow the "logic"...

Tuesday feels like Monday. But I have to keep telling myself, "No, Monday was yesterday, we are a day deeper into the week than you think!"

Wednesday feels like Tuesday, but not as much as Tuesday felt like Monday (I'm catching up, you see). Nonetheless, I still have to tell myself that, "No, Tuesday was yesterday, we are a day deeper into the week than you think!"

By Thursday, it actually feels like Thursday to me. BUT, that part of me that was trying to keep track starts in anyway with, "No, we had Monday off, so you are a day off. Thursday must have been yesterday, we are a day deeper into the week than you think! So it is really Friday"

But then there's STILL Friday waiting after Thursday. So, when I go to work on Friday, it feels like it should be Saturday because of the one-day-off logic. Therefore, I feel like I had to go an extra day which makes me feel like it was an extra-long week, even though it was short.

Don't even get me started on middle-of-the-week days-off! (That can end up feeling like TWO WHOLE WORK-WEEKS of work!)

Work-weeks should ONLY be shortened by taking off Fridays.

Saturday, July 21, 2007

Portly Foreverglades

Summer is slipping too quickly through my fingers... So much to do, so little motivation, oh, yeah, and time... that too.

On the bright side, I am planning to go on a cruise in January!

For those who have never tasted the cruise, my advice is to not EVER go on a cruise. I haven’t looked it up yet, but I’m pretty sure that “CRUISE” is Italian (or Greek?) for “OCEAN-COCAINE”. The problem, though, is that I’ll have to fly to get to the port down in Ft. Lauderdale.

I’m really not afraid of flying, really; it’s just that I’m really just afraid of crashing, really.

What’s that? Statistically it is SAFER to fly than to drive the car? Really? Wow. Well, did you know that “statistically” it is safer to be driving (riding) in a car when the engine fails than it is to be flying when the engine fails? Also, since we’re on “statistics”, did you know that “statistically” more people die in hospitals than out of them. So, does that mean it’s “safer” to stay away from hospitals? Hmm, actually... maybe so:

Deaths in the U.S. as a result of preventable adverse medical events (i.e., doctor and nurse mistakes) EXCEED those of motor vehicle accidents AND breast cancer COMBINED? [Kohn, L. T., Corrigan, J. M., & Donaldson, M. S. (2000). To err is human: Building a safer healthcare system. Washington, DC: National Academy Press.]

Ok, that’s what you get for bringing up the “it’s safer to fly than it is to drive” crap.

Since I’m already on the subjects of death, I’ve been looking in the mirror lately and haven’t liked what I’ve been seeing. BUT, guess what I figured out?

Stop ffffffricking looking in the frickingggg mirror!

Since I’ve stopped looking at the (contrary) evidence, I’ve been feeling a lot younger, healthier, slimmer, and handsomer! I prefer it that way. Besides, if God had wanted us to be looking in mirrors, he’d have put eyes in the front of our heads and given people the smarts enough to invent mirrors to hang on walls in the places we live, and... oh... wait...

Ahhhhhh... frickkkkking God!

Sunday, June 10, 2007

Change Strange

I stumbled across this website: http://www.snowcrest.net/fox/str.html and MAN did it bring back some memories AND remind me of how different the world has become since I was a tyke! Take a minute and check out the toy. Then come back.

I do not recall ever asking for this toy, it just showed up one christmas morning. My parents knew that I was a science fiction dork and they probably figured I'd like the toy. Chaa! Try LOVE it!

It had SOOOOO much additional potential as a toy. Now, there's NO WAY any kid could get a toy like this today. In fact, other than giving a child a blowtorch in their christmas stocking, no other toy would be as dangerous, either... but hey, I was a responsible (for the most part) child.

Basically (for those of you who decided to just keep reading even THOUGH you were told to take a look at the website above first), the toy was a single-burner electric stove. There was a plastic dome to "protect" youngsters from inadvertent fingerprint meltage. Not to worry, the dome of protection could be popped off without a fuss.

Now frankly, a single burner stove-top in the bedroom SHOULD be toy enough for ANY eight year old (or older) kid. BUT WAIT THERE'S MORE! There was a little crusher machine that, when you put stuff into it, you could... umm, CRUSH it! Just crank the crush-o-matic wheel and SPLOOSH, whatever was in the "danger chamber" (as I like to think of it) was squished!

Now, of course, some things that were DESIGNED to be used with the toy came with it. Little plastic dinosaurs that you were supposed to heat on the "burner" and then throw into the crusher and squish into flat little plastic squares. Later, putting the squares on the burner would allow them to spring back into their dino-shapes. Yeah, that WAS cool. But think of all the OTHER stuff in a little boy's bedroom that DIDN'T come with the toy... but that could still... interact with it!

I'm really tempted to try and recapture my youth by finding one on eBay... [sigh] Why couldn't my "mid-life crisis" be the one where I get the red convertible sports-car and the beautiful young model(s)? Oh... I remember... my wife would be the one to get the Strange Change machine and guess who'd be looking out of the "danger chamber"?

Wednesday, May 30, 2007

What did I see you eating under there?

There’s a new movie coming out that I fully expect I’ll hate. (Can you guess what it is?) Apparently, I’ve now pretty much aged myself out of the primary target demographic for movies. They mostly all suck. Of course, that’s probably always been true. But, what’s worse is that the number of sucky movies that I’m willing to see is getting smaller. Reminds me of when cable TV showed up. We went from four or five channels to over 100, but worthwhile (to me) programming all but vanished.

To be honest, the movie I’m looking forward to see can suck all it wants as long as the theme song is faithful to the original, except longer (not necessarily in terms of lyrics; maybe just the instrumentals).

FAT CHANCE!

It will probably be some kind of (in honor of the president) “C-grade” rap bastardization. Or, what I like to call, “Crap” for short.

On the bright side, summer has arrived to caress my face and shoulders with her loving touch. Pass the sunscreen!

Unfortunately, in looking into making plans to travel north to help my father pack up his house for a big move, I’ve ended up filling all my summer break with “things to do”. That makes me feel like summer’s almost over already! I can feel Fall Classes breathing down my neck and I still have 64 hours of teaching left to do before then! (Yes, I keep track of how many hours I have left to teach.)

I’m starting to hyperventilate.

So, here’s where I stand:

1) Summer is almost over already.
2) I can’t look forward to (and enjoy) movies anymore.
3) My blog has become a crazy-person’s rant-space.

What to do, what to do. . . Maybe I need a new philosophy? OK, I pick the “Philosophy of niece” which is summed up by her phrase (following a deep sigh): “What-ev.”

Friday, April 27, 2007

Bad Days and Bad Ways

I’m not a big fan of Winter. Maybe the idea was good back when someone thought it up, “This will get people to appreciate Summer!” But, I don’t need it; I already and always appreciate Summer. Winter, to me, is a long five months (November through March). And don’t give me any of that solstice-equinox crap. Winter is when it’s COLD. I’m only allowed 365 days a year, and Winter takes about 150 days of them! So, that leaves me with a mere 215 (at best).

Why am I complaining when Spring is already here? Why complain when I can hear Summer upstairs dressing for breakfast? Because despite my love of Summer, I’m an idiot like the rest of you.

Winter days are strings of “bad days” in my book. Sure, not everything is bad every day, but overall, more bad than good. So, now that my so-called “good days” are coming, I will still be paying a “good day tax” which whittles into my remaining 215 days. The “good day tax” is paid on a random cycle. It is paid with bad days. Bad days can be bold, or worse, they can be sneaky.

Sneaky bad days are really betrayals because I usually cause the misery. They are sneaky because, like straws on the proverbial camel’s back, no single ingredient is enough to justify calling it a bad day. It happens out of accumulated irritating experiences. So you never know you’re having one until it’s too late. Below are just some of the ingredients to my sneaky bad days:

  • A hangnail.
  • Spontaneous public coughing spasms caused by breathing in my spit when I should have been swallowing it. Usually people make it worse by offering me something to drink when this happens.
  • Driving past the exit I wanted and having to drive another 5 miles just to get to an exit that will let me drive 5 miles back to the one I missed.
  • Losing my page because my finger slips or I drop the book.
  • Just finishing getting dressed when I’m nearly late for something only to have the last button on my shirt just pop off.
  • Blowing my nose but never being able to get the passages completely clear.
  • When tipping a glass to drink the last bit and the ice at the bottom suddenly collapses (avalanches) down onto my entire face.
  • Getting halfway through cooking a meal before finding out that an important ingredient (like chicken) I though was in the fridge, isn’t.
  • Throwing trash at the waste basket only to have it catch an outside edge, or worse, bounce OUT.
  • When the last tasty bite of a great meal or dessert falls off the fork and onto the floor.
  • Forgetting to completely rinse off and finding that soapy patch when drying.
  • Forgetting to completely dry off and getting that cold wet patch of shirt clinging to my back once I’m dressed.
  • Pulling a hair out (from ANY-damn-where) by accident; caught in watch or eyeglasses.
  • Being really tired but can’t sleep once in bed.
  • Bending a fingernail back on itself.
  • When my hand spasms for no apparent reason while drinking and I splash my own face (and/or shirt).
  • Getting an eyelash floating around on my eyeball while I’m driving.
  • Using scissors on some project, but halfway through I can’t find them any more because I somehow just hid them on myself.
  • Feeling that I have an itch on my shoulder or back or arm... but not being able to find it.
  • When the soap falls on the tub and it’s so thin that it won’t let me pick it up without squishing my fingernails into its sides.
  • Sometimes, reaching to adjust my glasses, I accidentally poke myself in the nose (or eye).
  • When I put something away before I’m done using it.
  • Missing the light switch more than two times when I’m walking by and I have to actually walk back to the wall to turn it on/off.
  • Get distracted when I walk into a room and forget the real reason I originally went in there. Then I have to come back again when I remember that I forgot.
  • Parking on a slight hill so that the door slams into my back or my leg when I’m not looking.
  • Reach up to my face to adjust my glasses only I’m not wearing them.
I think you get the idea.

Saturday, March 31, 2007

Of Guilts and Fears

I have been feeling guilty about my blubber-ness. Guilt is not a very productive response. I find that it makes me hungry. Fortunately, I have discovered the REAL underlying problems. My weight isn’t really MY fault at all! The blame actually belongs (in alphabetical order) to: Asian Grill, Bahama Breeze, Bravos, Cadbury, Damons, Don Pablos, Jackson’s, Johnny Carino’s, Mmm Mmm Pizza, Olive Garden, Outback Steakhouse, Red Lobster, Sapporo, and the Sharp Edge Restaurant. The weight of guilt has FINALLY been shifted from my shoulders (to my gut).

Tomorrow is April Fool’s day. That’s no big deal when it happens on a weekend. However, what is a big deal is that I am going to be presenting awards to two students. This will take place in front of their families. If you haven’t been keeping up with my rapid-pace blog entries, then you don’t know how much I fear public speaking. It’s taken me about a decade to learn how to appear relaxed in front of a classroom full of students. When I see them on campus (or worse… OFF campus), I find myself feeling the way I did in junior high when I’d get tongue-tied if a pretty girl spoke to me (actually I still get this way).

I have been trying to stay awake until I can barely keep my eyes open so that when I hit the pillow, I go right to sleep before my mind can start thinking things like, “Steve… what are you going to say?” Or, “You know, you’ll be talking about these students in front of their FAMILIES… in front of their PARENTS. What will you look like if you stutter or say something IDIOTIC?” (By the way, the chances of my saying something idiotic are actually really high. KNOWING this doesn’t make it any easier to cope.) I am only allowed two minutes per student. So, knowing that I have a 2-minute limit will make me fearful of going over. THAT will make me probably try to rush through whatever I come up with. (T-minus 20 hours to come up with something.)

Last night I slept like a baby. That is, a baby with a tooth ache that’s also being bit by the jealous dog and has a toy under his back and an ear ache. Yeah. I slept like a baby. Maybe if I go find something to eat I’ll feel better.

Tuesday, February 27, 2007

Phabulously Phlavorful Flegm: The Conspiracy!

I thought I was doing well. I thought I was keeping my fingers out of my mouth, eyes, and nose (at least until after I washed them). I thought I was covering my mouth and holding my breath whenever a student snarkelflarted in my vicinity. Alas, no. Somewhere, somehow, from someone I was phlegmed.

The past week I went from breathing clearly to gurgling and wheezing out of 3/7 of the holes in my head.

If “they” can’t cure the cold, at least someone could come up with a way to make the disgusting parts more tolerable. A simple phlegm-flavoring shot, for example. Wouldn’t it be easy enough to find a way to inject (or swallow) a chemical into our system that would convert snot-flavored phlegm into, say, strawberry-flavored phlegm?

Frankly, I cannot believe that the technology isn’t already available. Somewhere, there’s a government or big-industry person walking around with a cold and periodically swallowing a backflow of booger-drainage that tastes as sweet as fresh picked strawberries; Or cherries; Or chocolate.

Why are they keeping this from the masses? Well THAT’S obvious! It’s for exactly the SAME damn reason that we don’t have “fart scenting patches” to stick on our skin somewhere. That’s right, “fart-scenters” convert the foul poopie flatulence smells we normally make into flower-fresh scents that would drive women crazy! OK, if you’re not the flowery type, how about other pleasant smells like chocolate chip cookie dough? Or pizza? You get the idea.

Yes, that’s two fantastic ideas in one blog entry. “Tasty-phlegms” and “Fart-scenters” should have been placed into widespread use years ago. Why haven’t they?

Consider: Imagine meeting your future in-laws (or fill in a suitable visitation scenario on your own) for the very first time. As you are walking into their house you catch that playful whiff of PIZZA! With delight, your eyes widen and a big saliva smile wraps around the words, “MMmmm, is that PIZZA I smell? I love pizza! If I was to be stranded on an island and could only have one thing to eat there for the rest of my life, pizza it would be!”

Here is where you notice that your future mother-in-law has started to blush and avoid eye-contact. There’s an uncomfortable silence filling air already thick with pizza-smells. It finally dawns on you that “someone” has been using the patch!

For the rest of your life, whenever you go into a pizza joint (or wherever there’s legitimate pizza going on) you’ll think back to how you almost got married and how good your almost-mother-in-law’s farts smelled. In fact, you’ll never be sure again if it’s really pizza that you’re smelling. Perhaps it might even happen that whenever you smell pizza, your lips will curl in disgust as you choke back a dry-heave.

Who’s going to allow THAT to happen to an American dining staple? Would you eat a cookie that smelled like poop? Well how about a chocolate-chip cookie that smelled exactly like a chocolate-chip cookie fart thanks to “Fart-scenters?”

So, the same would be true of “Phlegm-flavors.” Would you open a jar of phlegm and spread it on toast? No? OK, then how about a jar of strawberry jam that tastes like phlegm? No? How about strawberry jam that tasted exactly like strawberry jam that tasted like strawberry flavored phlegm? If you swallowed something that TASTED like strawberries, wouldn’t you wonder, “Hey, did I just swallow someone’s strawberry flavored phlegm instead of strawberry flavored strawberries?”

The food industries would oppose our flavoring and scenting of these nasty, disgusting excretions.

Besides, what would ever taste or smell good to us again if these phabulous products really did hit the shelves one day?

We should all just be thankful that our flegm and pharts have the phlavors and perphumes they have. Be thankful that the government suppresses some technologies for our own good.

Wednesday, January 31, 2007

Apologies to Eric and Julianne or RTFM

I’ve been doing a crappy job on my blog since November of 2006. What started in my head never made it to the blog. BEFORE my blog was started, I’d imagined all the sorts of amazing rants and profound blurbles I’d be writing about. Then, I found a host for my blog and set it up (as best as I could figure out... it promised me at the time that I could change the look of the page, but it was never clear to me how, so I just used a selectable format – which is fine).

After about ONE entry, I became really resentful with the idea that I’d have to keep up with my writing EVERY damn day. I consider myself to be a super-introvert. By that I mean that I’d prefer to be so by myself that I’m often not alone enough with my own thoughts. (I crowd myself?) So, writing my thoughts was like having to entertain myself as a guest, when I’d really rather just be left alone thank you.

ALSO, when I fantasized about writing a blog, part of that fantasy included the idea that thousands of people would read it and leave commen-ta-toes (as I say in class). I think I only ever got ONE comment from a passer-by who also had a blog. (Someone named “ice” which is a cool name, huh?)

Ahem, well, recently the blog hosting site changed (something) and I had to click on some buttons and enter some passwords (for some reason). As a result, I came across a note that said I had, like, 30-something comments to moderate. Huh? Ohhhh, well apparently all that time I was supposed to click on a link to check for comments left by others every so often. Once I approve them THEN they appear in the blog. The only reason Ice showed up was that Ice was a registered blog person. Everyone else (including stupid web-bot comments like “Hey drspeg, check out this cool site, it reminds me of your blog!” that I deleted) went into the awaiting moderation purgatory.

An old (let’s say WICKED old – yes, boy is HE old, like probably WAY older than ME now since I never aged over the past years) friend of mine [Eric] had left a message and his email address. OK, after a year apparently the people hosting his email realized how old he was and just cancelled his email address because it didn’t work when I finally discovered it and tried to send a message back. PMO.

ALSO, a previous student of mine [Julianne] who I’ve wondered about from time to time because she had apparently forgotten all about how critical to her past, current, and future successes I was; seeing as I was her favorite college teacher EVER, and all. (I don’t think that was very grammatical – especially for a college teacher.) Anyway, she dropped me a message bragging about all of the great things she’s done since she last had dinner at our house and NEGLECTED to put in two things: (1) thanks to me for her successes, and (2) a way to email her back – since I either lost her email, or, she never gave me her most recent email address.

So, here we are. Now I’ve wasted a blog entry on this sweet apology.