This amazingly unclear photo is of the sorting robot we have at my work.
Essentially it works as a shipping sorter... it sorts cards (prescription cards) into boxes to be shipped to hundreds of different locations across the State of Texas.
Mostly it does its job and I do mine.. and we ignore each other. A state of affairs that suits us both fine. Unfortunately today that was not to be. The sorter quit working and all the King's horses and all the King's men couldn't put humpty dumpty back together again.
Its amazing how sometimes simple little things can cause big problems. In this case one tiny little tracking eye had gone bad. It was giving a constant signal of items passing it (items that weren't actually there). That caused all sorts of logic errors in the software and subsequently the machine decided to shut itself off to protect us all from its malfunction.
They were waiting for me when I walked in the door at work.
Its so nice to have people always happy and ready to greet you at the door when you walk in. I finally got to have my morning coffee an hour later.. it was cold.
I've decided this year I'm not sending the sortation machine a christmas card. That'll teach it.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Captive Plant
This plant sits on a shelf above my desk.
I'd like to say it was the original that my mother gave me... but alas.. it died. Mostly various ladies that work in my office come in and give it water now and then.. along with admonishments at me for forgetting to water it.
This one was a replacement, but it looks just like the one that was in the vase when Mom gave it to me.
When I'm bored I look at it from below... trying to imagine myself as a tiny person climbing up into an enormous philodendron tree... deep the the mysterious jungle.
Other times when I'm bored I just fall asleep and drool on my desk.
I'd like to say it was the original that my mother gave me... but alas.. it died. Mostly various ladies that work in my office come in and give it water now and then.. along with admonishments at me for forgetting to water it.
This one was a replacement, but it looks just like the one that was in the vase when Mom gave it to me.
When I'm bored I look at it from below... trying to imagine myself as a tiny person climbing up into an enormous philodendron tree... deep the the mysterious jungle.
Other times when I'm bored I just fall asleep and drool on my desk.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Belief
It is my firm belief.. that we should not hold firm beliefs.
I got that line from an author I like... I believe it was Richard Bach... but I can't be sure.
I firmly believe that beets are the devils turds. But other than that I can be flexible.
I got that line from an author I like... I believe it was Richard Bach... but I can't be sure.
I firmly believe that beets are the devils turds. But other than that I can be flexible.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Dad
Dad... a word filled with connotations. At the moment its a word I can't get off my mind.
Being a father has given me a lot of new insights into the mysterious enigma that is my own dad. He and I are very different in many respects. Unfortunately one of the big differences is communication.
My dad's not a big talker when it comes to his feelings. He'll talk about how to fix something for as long as you'll listen, and he loves to tell stories, but its a conscious act of will for him to say something like, "I love you." He tries though...if I say it first.. he always replies, even though I can tell its hard for him to say it.
Even more than small phrases like that... I wish he could tell me other things about how he feels. Things like.. "I'm proud of you.", or even share his feelings about the events of his own life, such as the death of his father, adopting me, marrying mom, or my step mom.
Sometimes I really really really wish.. so much.. for that sort of simple guidance. Not even guidance really.. just the comfort of knowing that 'he' went through some of the same things, same feelings, same situations that I've encountered, that I'm still discovering.
I have to figure a lot of those things out. I know he's just a man... a regular guy in many ways. But to my heart he's the man that held me first as a child, and so I still return to puzzling over him... again and again, even though there are so many other men who'd be easier to understand. I spend a lot of time thinking about what's gone on in his mind, currently and even more... what he's been through before.
It would be so much simpler if he could just TELL me!
Instead I deduce and infer... from little bits of information, things I hear from Mom, or my Step-mom, or his sisters. I think about those bits of information, and think about my own experiences as a father and I try to piece together.... the things I would tell me, if I were him, and I could speak to me as I speak to my own son. But no matter how smart I am... its just not the same. I WANT HIM TO TELL ME.
I don't feel like a very good son. I love my dad, but I don't spend any time with him. He likes to hunt and fish, to be outside. He likes cars, races, and sports. I'm really not much for wanting to hunt or fish, and I have little interest in cars or sports.
When I see him.. its awkward.. and getting more so as I get older. There's fewer stories for him to tell... less time spent together, and longer silences. I know he loves me, and someone once told me that he's proud of me, but that doesn't make for much of a conversation.
Now he's in the hospital, he's not doing too well after an operation. And I"m afraid, afraid of all that I will lose if he passes on, of all the things he could never tell me directly. I'm afraid and I'm lonely. Most of all I wish I knew if he felt something like this about his own dad. Just knowing that would give me a sense of comradery at least.
I have my own kids now... and I 'think'... that perhaps I'll be able to save them from this confusion and solitude when they're grown. I hope that my own ability to talk and share my heart freely.. will prevent this for them. I really hope so.
But it doesn't make this any easier.... I want MY dad to talk to me like this. I want my dad to hug me the way I hug them. No matter how old I am.. inside me there's a little boy, and this is what he's saying, "I love you Daddy, please don't die."
Being a father has given me a lot of new insights into the mysterious enigma that is my own dad. He and I are very different in many respects. Unfortunately one of the big differences is communication.
My dad's not a big talker when it comes to his feelings. He'll talk about how to fix something for as long as you'll listen, and he loves to tell stories, but its a conscious act of will for him to say something like, "I love you." He tries though...if I say it first.. he always replies, even though I can tell its hard for him to say it.
Even more than small phrases like that... I wish he could tell me other things about how he feels. Things like.. "I'm proud of you.", or even share his feelings about the events of his own life, such as the death of his father, adopting me, marrying mom, or my step mom.
Sometimes I really really really wish.. so much.. for that sort of simple guidance. Not even guidance really.. just the comfort of knowing that 'he' went through some of the same things, same feelings, same situations that I've encountered, that I'm still discovering.
I have to figure a lot of those things out. I know he's just a man... a regular guy in many ways. But to my heart he's the man that held me first as a child, and so I still return to puzzling over him... again and again, even though there are so many other men who'd be easier to understand. I spend a lot of time thinking about what's gone on in his mind, currently and even more... what he's been through before.
It would be so much simpler if he could just TELL me!
Instead I deduce and infer... from little bits of information, things I hear from Mom, or my Step-mom, or his sisters. I think about those bits of information, and think about my own experiences as a father and I try to piece together.... the things I would tell me, if I were him, and I could speak to me as I speak to my own son. But no matter how smart I am... its just not the same. I WANT HIM TO TELL ME.
I don't feel like a very good son. I love my dad, but I don't spend any time with him. He likes to hunt and fish, to be outside. He likes cars, races, and sports. I'm really not much for wanting to hunt or fish, and I have little interest in cars or sports.
When I see him.. its awkward.. and getting more so as I get older. There's fewer stories for him to tell... less time spent together, and longer silences. I know he loves me, and someone once told me that he's proud of me, but that doesn't make for much of a conversation.
Now he's in the hospital, he's not doing too well after an operation. And I"m afraid, afraid of all that I will lose if he passes on, of all the things he could never tell me directly. I'm afraid and I'm lonely. Most of all I wish I knew if he felt something like this about his own dad. Just knowing that would give me a sense of comradery at least.
I have my own kids now... and I 'think'... that perhaps I'll be able to save them from this confusion and solitude when they're grown. I hope that my own ability to talk and share my heart freely.. will prevent this for them. I really hope so.
But it doesn't make this any easier.... I want MY dad to talk to me like this. I want my dad to hug me the way I hug them. No matter how old I am.. inside me there's a little boy, and this is what he's saying, "I love you Daddy, please don't die."
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Family
This is my family. I should be in the picture.. but I was too lazy to set up the tripod and use the timer. Besides... I doubt our dog, Sofie, would have posed like that if I'd been in the shot.
Not to mention... our other two dogs were avoid the photo as well.
The important thing is that families are made of love. My wife orrganized this photo because she feels strongly that the marriages made in California should not be destroyed.
I quite agree with her. Its ridiculous that we should prevent people who love one another from having the basic rights that go along with marriage. There is no reason to denying them. There is no logic to saying to them.. 'my love is greater than yours, my happiness is proper.. yours is not'. Those are the sentiments of selfish, narrow minded people.
Its quite sad to me that many of the people voting and trying to stop gay marriages are in fact, also kind, sweet people in their own right. People who are otherwise good. People who are at their very base, kind and loving.
There is only one way such people could be made to support such bigotry. And that is the irrational indoctrination of so many children with religious teachings from a young age. Any religion that endorses such stupidity is guilty of poisoning the minds of every person it touches.
I am not an atheist. Nor am I a member of any religion. I believe we are all part of something much greater, much more beautiful than any man's limited conception of god. If god did happen to confine himself within some anthropomorphic shell... then the worshippers in most of the churches today would have cause for great fear.
For the god I would envision would have no patience for bigotry. That god would have no sympathy for those teaching children that they were inherently sinful. That god would never be so vain as to command every other soul to pray to him, to praise him.. he would have no need of such ego boosting.
Most surely.. he would NEVER deny two people the right to happiness together simply because they didn't fit the traditional gender pairings of the majority.
Luckily for those who worship in churches and listen to the teachings of other men, teachings that exclude and punish others... luckily for them the true god is a lot more forgiving than I am. That god allows them the freedom to be bigots and assholes even as he disdains their petty worship.
Not to mention... our other two dogs were avoid the photo as well.
The important thing is that families are made of love. My wife orrganized this photo because she feels strongly that the marriages made in California should not be destroyed.
I quite agree with her. Its ridiculous that we should prevent people who love one another from having the basic rights that go along with marriage. There is no reason to denying them. There is no logic to saying to them.. 'my love is greater than yours, my happiness is proper.. yours is not'. Those are the sentiments of selfish, narrow minded people.
Its quite sad to me that many of the people voting and trying to stop gay marriages are in fact, also kind, sweet people in their own right. People who are otherwise good. People who are at their very base, kind and loving.
There is only one way such people could be made to support such bigotry. And that is the irrational indoctrination of so many children with religious teachings from a young age. Any religion that endorses such stupidity is guilty of poisoning the minds of every person it touches.
I am not an atheist. Nor am I a member of any religion. I believe we are all part of something much greater, much more beautiful than any man's limited conception of god. If god did happen to confine himself within some anthropomorphic shell... then the worshippers in most of the churches today would have cause for great fear.
For the god I would envision would have no patience for bigotry. That god would have no sympathy for those teaching children that they were inherently sinful. That god would never be so vain as to command every other soul to pray to him, to praise him.. he would have no need of such ego boosting.
Most surely.. he would NEVER deny two people the right to happiness together simply because they didn't fit the traditional gender pairings of the majority.
Luckily for those who worship in churches and listen to the teachings of other men, teachings that exclude and punish others... luckily for them the true god is a lot more forgiving than I am. That god allows them the freedom to be bigots and assholes even as he disdains their petty worship.
Charley
This is my dog Charley.
He's a boy.. unlike the other dogs around here. He's also the most laid back. He knows what he wants. To lay in your lap... whoever you are, and to be stroked and petted for the rest of his life.
He's a bit neurotic, easily scared.... and he pees on me if I make sudden moves or surprise him. I think he was abused before we adopted him... but its hard to tell. He might just have been born with a nervous disposition and a weak bladder.
Who knows... in any case.. I like him. I just have to be careful how I pick him up and not startle him. Otherwise I get a special charley surprise.
He's a boy.. unlike the other dogs around here. He's also the most laid back. He knows what he wants. To lay in your lap... whoever you are, and to be stroked and petted for the rest of his life.
He's a bit neurotic, easily scared.... and he pees on me if I make sudden moves or surprise him. I think he was abused before we adopted him... but its hard to tell. He might just have been born with a nervous disposition and a weak bladder.
Who knows... in any case.. I like him. I just have to be careful how I pick him up and not startle him. Otherwise I get a special charley surprise.
Friday, January 23, 2009
Anime
I had a long day today.
This is the show I was trying to watch when I got home.
But my Donna had different ideas. I paused it here.. it was an hour before I got back to it.
Oh well.... I'll sleep and catch up tomorrow.
This is the show I was trying to watch when I got home.
But my Donna had different ideas. I paused it here.. it was an hour before I got back to it.
Oh well.... I'll sleep and catch up tomorrow.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Letters from the Dead
This is my wallet. Its leather, and its a lot like my last wallet. However it has a few notable features.
First, it contains an all purpose multi parsec communicator, able to reach out and touch someone light years away. Second it doubles as a weapon if I get mugged. Just throw it at the mugger and run.
Ok ... I was joking.. only #2 is true.
It really does have a lot of other meaningful features (for me). First, it was given to me by my wife's grandmother, Irene, after her husband Doug died. Inside she wrote me a lovely note about how she had given it to him.. but he wouldn't stop using his old wallet (rather like me). Anyway.. he died.. and so she sent it to me, clearing out old things etc...
I really liked Doug, he was very personable and an all around great bloke. So I took to using the wallet. Then a year or so later.. she died as well. I still have her note inside.
All in all.. being the nostalgic kind of guy I am.. I will probably use this wallet till it falls apart. It seems a palpable link to England (a place I love) as well as a link to two wonderful people that I didn't get to spend enough time learning about.
So now I have two reminders of them, their granddaughter (my sweetie) and this wallet. I can't squeeze her into my back pocket so the wallet definitely has a special place for me as well.
Cheers!
First, it contains an all purpose multi parsec communicator, able to reach out and touch someone light years away. Second it doubles as a weapon if I get mugged. Just throw it at the mugger and run.
Ok ... I was joking.. only #2 is true.
It really does have a lot of other meaningful features (for me). First, it was given to me by my wife's grandmother, Irene, after her husband Doug died. Inside she wrote me a lovely note about how she had given it to him.. but he wouldn't stop using his old wallet (rather like me). Anyway.. he died.. and so she sent it to me, clearing out old things etc...
I really liked Doug, he was very personable and an all around great bloke. So I took to using the wallet. Then a year or so later.. she died as well. I still have her note inside.
All in all.. being the nostalgic kind of guy I am.. I will probably use this wallet till it falls apart. It seems a palpable link to England (a place I love) as well as a link to two wonderful people that I didn't get to spend enough time learning about.
So now I have two reminders of them, their granddaughter (my sweetie) and this wallet. I can't squeeze her into my back pocket so the wallet definitely has a special place for me as well.
Cheers!
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Rubik's Riddle Runs Rampant
Ok so the title doesn't mean anything.. I jus tlike alliteration.
I'm sleepy so I hope you'll all excuse me for being confuzzled and muzzy headed.
Today has been brought to you by the letter R.
Everyone make your way quietly to the exits and don't stare at the idiot in the cage.
I'm sleepy so I hope you'll all excuse me for being confuzzled and muzzy headed.
Today has been brought to you by the letter R.
Everyone make your way quietly to the exits and don't stare at the idiot in the cage.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
The Little Things
It is indeed the little things that are often most important.
Such as ear hair.
You never think of it in your younger days.. its something that afflicts other people. Something they're used to. Something that shouldn't bother them, just the people that have to look at it.
Till you start sprouting it. Then you realize its a pain in the ass. You pluck it out and it comes back. It tickles when you scrape your finger in your ear. You wonder if other people see it. Suddenly you've gone from your sleek youthful days, when hair only grew in cool places.. like your head, your genitals... your cheeks. Places that made you look good or proved you were a man.
Now its growing from your ears... and it just proves that old age is rather silly, and somewhat annoying.
God definitely has a sense of humor.
Life is a stage.. just remember that the last laugh is always on you.
Such as ear hair.
You never think of it in your younger days.. its something that afflicts other people. Something they're used to. Something that shouldn't bother them, just the people that have to look at it.
Till you start sprouting it. Then you realize its a pain in the ass. You pluck it out and it comes back. It tickles when you scrape your finger in your ear. You wonder if other people see it. Suddenly you've gone from your sleek youthful days, when hair only grew in cool places.. like your head, your genitals... your cheeks. Places that made you look good or proved you were a man.
Now its growing from your ears... and it just proves that old age is rather silly, and somewhat annoying.
God definitely has a sense of humor.
Life is a stage.. just remember that the last laugh is always on you.
Summertime
The little boy I have there is my other child. The boy. He's wonderful, and annoying. He's everything I wasn't.. and a few things I was.
He'll never be me. That is the hardest lesson of fatherhood. Initially I think most men have a conception of their son being their legacy... a sort of follow up, themselves part two.
Then you have one... and you realize, he's not you. Never will be. From the first day he's someone else. Learning to deal with that is the essence of the transition from child to father.
On to the good stuff, he's a boy! Despite being different, he's still a boy. There are some things we share my wife will never understand. Partly I feel its my job to protect him a bit.. from the women in his life. At this tender age he's still very unsophisticated compared to females.. any females.
Not only that.. but women really don't understand us and he's a poor communicator as well (would that he had gotten that gift of mine!). Often its all I can do to haul his bacon out of the fires of feminine retribution before he pours gasoline on the flames with his poor wording.
I love him.
We don't always get along, but somehow he knows I'm looking out for him, even as I tease him about his music teacher (she's cute and he knows it!).
He's good in ways I never was, and sometimes wish he wasn't. On the other hand.. he'll never make the mistakes I did... but I"m helpless to protect him from the mistakes his own brand of choices will produce. It should be fun to watch.
Keep the hugs coming son, and I'll keep cheering for you no matter what you decide to go after.
He'll never be me. That is the hardest lesson of fatherhood. Initially I think most men have a conception of their son being their legacy... a sort of follow up, themselves part two.
Then you have one... and you realize, he's not you. Never will be. From the first day he's someone else. Learning to deal with that is the essence of the transition from child to father.
On to the good stuff, he's a boy! Despite being different, he's still a boy. There are some things we share my wife will never understand. Partly I feel its my job to protect him a bit.. from the women in his life. At this tender age he's still very unsophisticated compared to females.. any females.
Not only that.. but women really don't understand us and he's a poor communicator as well (would that he had gotten that gift of mine!). Often its all I can do to haul his bacon out of the fires of feminine retribution before he pours gasoline on the flames with his poor wording.
I love him.
We don't always get along, but somehow he knows I'm looking out for him, even as I tease him about his music teacher (she's cute and he knows it!).
He's good in ways I never was, and sometimes wish he wasn't. On the other hand.. he'll never make the mistakes I did... but I"m helpless to protect him from the mistakes his own brand of choices will produce. It should be fun to watch.
Keep the hugs coming son, and I'll keep cheering for you no matter what you decide to go after.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
My Little Angel
I have two kids... but for now I'll focus on this one.
This is my angel. She's everything a little girl should be, sweet and kind, pretty and cute. She's full of all the seeds of womanhood, smiles and tears, kind words and beguiling lies. I'm afraid she's going to be one hell of a woman someday.
I sure hope so.
She's quite tender with our pets, and often harsh with her brother. She speaks well.. she steals hearts, and she loves anything cute. Every time she makes me mad she breaks my heart with her first tear. She's a lot like her mother that way.
I want her to grow up to be the sort of woman that is beautiful inside and out. The kind that seems fragile but hides a spirit full of strength. I'll love her no matter what she winds up being like though.
Having children taught me the meaning of unconditional love. Through the course of my life I have recieved such love, but never felt it. In almost every case, love comes with strings, with spouses and much more so with friends, there are limits. Things you could do to destroy their love for you, boundaries. Even with my love for my own parents, as a child, there were limits. I loved them because they fed me, sheltered me, cared for me. A child's love is selfish even as it is innocent.
A child learns love from their parents, but ultimately the final test doesn't come until the child becomes a parent.
Once I held my children in my arms... I knew my heart would someday break. I died with the knowledge of that love. All my personal goals and dreams became secondary. I knew in that moment.. what unconditional love is, what my own parents had experienced. I knew then that my own mother loved me more than I loved her. I knew it because at that moment I discovered how deep a parent's love for their children is.
I cried that day.. just like I'm crying now to remember it. In the moment I first felt that love, I also felt the unbearable pain such joy would bring. The pain of separation someday... as they grow and pass beyond their parents lives into their own.
That pain isn't enough to deter me now though... the joy and the love of raising them is worth it.
This is my angel. She's everything a little girl should be, sweet and kind, pretty and cute. She's full of all the seeds of womanhood, smiles and tears, kind words and beguiling lies. I'm afraid she's going to be one hell of a woman someday.
I sure hope so.
She's quite tender with our pets, and often harsh with her brother. She speaks well.. she steals hearts, and she loves anything cute. Every time she makes me mad she breaks my heart with her first tear. She's a lot like her mother that way.
I want her to grow up to be the sort of woman that is beautiful inside and out. The kind that seems fragile but hides a spirit full of strength. I'll love her no matter what she winds up being like though.
Having children taught me the meaning of unconditional love. Through the course of my life I have recieved such love, but never felt it. In almost every case, love comes with strings, with spouses and much more so with friends, there are limits. Things you could do to destroy their love for you, boundaries. Even with my love for my own parents, as a child, there were limits. I loved them because they fed me, sheltered me, cared for me. A child's love is selfish even as it is innocent.
A child learns love from their parents, but ultimately the final test doesn't come until the child becomes a parent.
Once I held my children in my arms... I knew my heart would someday break. I died with the knowledge of that love. All my personal goals and dreams became secondary. I knew in that moment.. what unconditional love is, what my own parents had experienced. I knew then that my own mother loved me more than I loved her. I knew it because at that moment I discovered how deep a parent's love for their children is.
I cried that day.. just like I'm crying now to remember it. In the moment I first felt that love, I also felt the unbearable pain such joy would bring. The pain of separation someday... as they grow and pass beyond their parents lives into their own.
That pain isn't enough to deter me now though... the joy and the love of raising them is worth it.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
The Lens of the World
Every person you meet has something to teach you.
In my journey through life I often struggle to keep that in mind. Some lessons are not to be sought... some are necessary and unpleasant, and others are a delight.
The lesson here is one I got from R.A. McAvoy, an author who wrote a book... I forget the name of it, but what has stayed with me is the message that he wove into that story.
I'll try to quote him, hopefully he'll forgive me if I misphrase it, but the meaning should be clear.
"You are the lens of the world. You are the only lens through which the world can perceive itself, and conversly, the world is the only mirror in which you may see yourself."
That small paragraph contains two bits of truth, which are one and the same, merely viewed from different angle. The first is this: the world, the universe, the infinity of existence can only know itself through your eyes. Your observation, creates the very thing it is observing, neither exists without the other.
The second is this: The world you experience is entirely within your own head, including your own concept of self and your physical body. The only way you can know anything about yourself... is by observing the world which you are creating within your mind.
Once you wrap your head around that.... the world begins to be full of wonderful and terrifying mystery. Should this alter your purpose, or change your life? Absolutely not.
As a zen master once said of the Tao, "When you are hungry eat, when you are tired sleep."
Some truths are so big.. and so amazing, that they change nothing, and there's nothing we can or should do about them. Learning not to try is the goal.
In my journey through life I often struggle to keep that in mind. Some lessons are not to be sought... some are necessary and unpleasant, and others are a delight.
The lesson here is one I got from R.A. McAvoy, an author who wrote a book... I forget the name of it, but what has stayed with me is the message that he wove into that story.
I'll try to quote him, hopefully he'll forgive me if I misphrase it, but the meaning should be clear.
"You are the lens of the world. You are the only lens through which the world can perceive itself, and conversly, the world is the only mirror in which you may see yourself."
That small paragraph contains two bits of truth, which are one and the same, merely viewed from different angle. The first is this: the world, the universe, the infinity of existence can only know itself through your eyes. Your observation, creates the very thing it is observing, neither exists without the other.
The second is this: The world you experience is entirely within your own head, including your own concept of self and your physical body. The only way you can know anything about yourself... is by observing the world which you are creating within your mind.
Once you wrap your head around that.... the world begins to be full of wonderful and terrifying mystery. Should this alter your purpose, or change your life? Absolutely not.
As a zen master once said of the Tao, "When you are hungry eat, when you are tired sleep."
Some truths are so big.. and so amazing, that they change nothing, and there's nothing we can or should do about them. Learning not to try is the goal.
The Night Tree
Once upon a time everyone used outhouses. Back then when they moved one and had to bury it they called the soiled earth under one 'night soil'.
So this tree shares a bit of that name. The picture was indeed taken at night... but I call it night tree because it also served a more natural purpose.
I find that trees bring us back to nature... and some things make me feel very connected to the natural order of things. I'll let your own imagination connect the dots.
In closing.. thank you tree.
So this tree shares a bit of that name. The picture was indeed taken at night... but I call it night tree because it also served a more natural purpose.
I find that trees bring us back to nature... and some things make me feel very connected to the natural order of things. I'll let your own imagination connect the dots.
In closing.. thank you tree.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
The Skunk
This is a skunk. Well not a real skunk. Its a pretend skunk. A doll if you will. It was created for the sole purpose of being used as a dog toy.
Obviously we wish to teach our dogs to chew and otherwise mutilate skunks for many reasons. Number one, skunks are dangerous malefic creatures with terrible and awesome powers who, given the opportunity would surely destroy civilization as we know it. Number two, they smell bad. Number three, they don't have many friends so who would miss them anyway.
Lies!!!
Skunks really don't smell, they keep the stinky stuff locked up in their anal glands and don't express it except under extreme duress. After all.. there are quite a few skunks around that you never see... and how often do you smell them? Practically never... the few times you have smelled them were most likely due to being run over by a car.
Hell if I was run over by a car I'd probably express my anal gland too, if I had one. Since I don't I'd probably be wishing I had one... to make the bastard behind the wheel suffer for what he'd done. After all.. as you can imagine, the actual car that strikes a skunk is likely to be nearly undrivable for weeks or more.
They do have malefic powers.... but there's not much we can do about those... so why tempt fate.
Teaching dogs to attack and mutilate skunks is simply asking for trouble. Obviously its these sorts of thoughtless products that are leading to the inevitable downfall of society, regardless of the involvement of skunks and their magical powers.
Obviously we wish to teach our dogs to chew and otherwise mutilate skunks for many reasons. Number one, skunks are dangerous malefic creatures with terrible and awesome powers who, given the opportunity would surely destroy civilization as we know it. Number two, they smell bad. Number three, they don't have many friends so who would miss them anyway.
Lies!!!
Skunks really don't smell, they keep the stinky stuff locked up in their anal glands and don't express it except under extreme duress. After all.. there are quite a few skunks around that you never see... and how often do you smell them? Practically never... the few times you have smelled them were most likely due to being run over by a car.
Hell if I was run over by a car I'd probably express my anal gland too, if I had one. Since I don't I'd probably be wishing I had one... to make the bastard behind the wheel suffer for what he'd done. After all.. as you can imagine, the actual car that strikes a skunk is likely to be nearly undrivable for weeks or more.
They do have malefic powers.... but there's not much we can do about those... so why tempt fate.
Teaching dogs to attack and mutilate skunks is simply asking for trouble. Obviously its these sorts of thoughtless products that are leading to the inevitable downfall of society, regardless of the involvement of skunks and their magical powers.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Moose Riding
This is my Moose/Squirrel, Abby. Some people tell me she's a poodle.. but I don't generally believe them. After all most people are idiots.
The moose/squirrel is a strong creature... strong enough to be ridden by a grown man (see picture). They also like to hide dish sponges, burying them for the winter (hence the squirrel appelation).
I rather like Abby. If I didn't I'd cook her.
The moose/squirrel is a strong creature... strong enough to be ridden by a grown man (see picture). They also like to hide dish sponges, burying them for the winter (hence the squirrel appelation).
I rather like Abby. If I didn't I'd cook her.
Dinner
Cooking is fun.
Now that I have 2 kids, plus Donna and myself I finally have enough people to cook a decent meal for.
This one consisted of homemade macaroni (the kind you bake), a sweet and sour bean salad, and hamburger steak smothered in gravy and onions.
The kids don't always like everything I make.. but they like most things, and they get exposed to lots of different foods. Something I think is important when growing up. I detest picky eaters (adults).
Lets hope they turn out as good as the meals.
Now that I have 2 kids, plus Donna and myself I finally have enough people to cook a decent meal for.
This one consisted of homemade macaroni (the kind you bake), a sweet and sour bean salad, and hamburger steak smothered in gravy and onions.
The kids don't always like everything I make.. but they like most things, and they get exposed to lots of different foods. Something I think is important when growing up. I detest picky eaters (adults).
Lets hope they turn out as good as the meals.
Monday, January 12, 2009
My Pee Pee Place
This is the urinal I use every day. After several years you sort of develop a connection to places like this.
I generally visit this spot several times a day. I usually flush with my foot. Not because I'm particularly paranoid... .but at 38 its cool to still be able to lift my leg that high. Plus I suspect some others may use their feet to flush as well. I figure as long as I keep flushing this way I'll retain my flexibility.. at least in regards to this... if I stop.. well how long before I discovered I could no longer do so?
I generally visit this spot several times a day. I usually flush with my foot. Not because I'm particularly paranoid... .but at 38 its cool to still be able to lift my leg that high. Plus I suspect some others may use their feet to flush as well. I figure as long as I keep flushing this way I'll retain my flexibility.. at least in regards to this... if I stop.. well how long before I discovered I could no longer do so?
Fond Memories of the Funeral Playground
This is a photo of a cemetary.
My grandfather was a mortician.. so as a child I got to spend quite a bit of time playing at the funeral home in town. To a five year old... a funeral home can be a magical place. The landscaping, beautifully decorated rooms, antique furniture, flowers... everything that goes into making a beautiful place to comfort grieving families, and to display the dearly departed... also coincidentally make for a fantastic playground.
At the time I was unaware of the irony. Indeed, my father and his sisters grew up in an apartment over the same funeral home.. so 'living' so near to the business of death was an old and familiar irony for most of my family.
I accidentally wandered into a room where someone was being embalmed somewhere around age five as well. That was a bit of a shock.. but otherwise all my memories of the place my grandfather worked are pleasant, if not idyllic.
Twenty eight years later I returned.... to see my best friend before his burial the next day. You might suppose that such a traumatic event would overshadow the kinder memories of yesteryear. Far from it however... the familiar place, and its childhood associations helped me get through that night.
I don't like losing friends.. but I still love the Funeral Home.
My grandfather was a mortician.. so as a child I got to spend quite a bit of time playing at the funeral home in town. To a five year old... a funeral home can be a magical place. The landscaping, beautifully decorated rooms, antique furniture, flowers... everything that goes into making a beautiful place to comfort grieving families, and to display the dearly departed... also coincidentally make for a fantastic playground.
At the time I was unaware of the irony. Indeed, my father and his sisters grew up in an apartment over the same funeral home.. so 'living' so near to the business of death was an old and familiar irony for most of my family.
I accidentally wandered into a room where someone was being embalmed somewhere around age five as well. That was a bit of a shock.. but otherwise all my memories of the place my grandfather worked are pleasant, if not idyllic.
Twenty eight years later I returned.... to see my best friend before his burial the next day. You might suppose that such a traumatic event would overshadow the kinder memories of yesteryear. Far from it however... the familiar place, and its childhood associations helped me get through that night.
I don't like losing friends.. but I still love the Funeral Home.
Dungeons and Dragons
I'm 38 years old... ya I still play.
Funny thing is the other guys are all getting old too. So it doesn't feel like I'm playing a young man's game.
Not that many young men still play games like this.
Funny thing is the other guys are all getting old too. So it doesn't feel like I'm playing a young man's game.
Not that many young men still play games like this.
Friday, January 9, 2009
My Pillow
I hold this pillow in my lap when I sit at the computer at home.
You might think its an emotional security thing or some such....
Its not.
I could give a crap about that.
I keep it over here because the edge of the desk cuts into my forearms. I lay the pillow across the edge of my desk to avoid that problem. Now you know.
You might think its an emotional security thing or some such....
Its not.
I could give a crap about that.
I keep it over here because the edge of the desk cuts into my forearms. I lay the pillow across the edge of my desk to avoid that problem. Now you know.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Enumeration is Idiocy
The images of the mind are better than the model in some ways, in others perhaps not, but its impossible to ever really know.
In other news:
Inscrutable inscriptions illuminate idiots, but alliteration apparently annoys anyone.
On a separate note here's what I've been thinking about today:
In other news:
Inscrutable inscriptions illuminate idiots, but alliteration apparently annoys anyone.
On a separate note here's what I've been thinking about today:
Reality’s Resolution
This is a continuation of a previous train of thought, from years ago, when I considered the nature of reality in light of the concept of ‘bandwidth’. Then my emphasis was mainly on whether there was a limit on the amount of information/sensation which we could experience at any given moment. By the time I was done I basically decided it was likely a constant value, or at least within a constant range. You can read more about it in the original essay, ‘Bandwidth of Reality’.
This essay is looking at something different, yet similar, rather I’m writing to consider the ‘resolution’ of our experiences. I use resolution in the sense that a photographer or graphics designer does, meaning how fine or detailed the picture is… and simultaneously the quality of the photo. Much talk has been made about the degradation of the five senses as we age. It is a given that as we get older and our bodies deteriorate, so to does our sensory apparati, the skin, eyes, ears, tongue… and the nerves which convey their signals. Other facilities also degrade as a function of our aging brains such as our ability to solve new problems and react to novel situations. Our ability to recall memories worsens, to store new information and many other facilities also worsen.
Given those facts.. and incuding my own prior assumptions regarding the eternal nature of our existence as observers of the universe, what then happens to the quality of our daily, or rather our moment to moment experience (umwelt) as we age? With the introduction of poorer quality sensory information from aging bodies, and poorer cognitive ability associated with our aging brains… does the very nature of our personal reality degrade as well?
To make the question clearer I’ll create a verbal picture. Imagine a little old man walking down the street, his back is hunched and his eyes cloudy behind thick glasses. He moves slowly, has difficulty communicating quickly, sees poorly and may even be confused or ‘senile’. But besides all these defects… is the ‘resolution’ of his internal universe grainy? Jagged? Fuzzy? Has the decline in all of his facilities, sensory, cognitive and physical produced an internal umwelt of poorer quality (resolution) than that of his younger days?
Returning to ourselves… can you determine from your own memories if your past younger self experienced life with more clarity? Were things sharper, tastier etc…? At this point I have no way to prove or disprove the notion that experience can be ‘bettter’ or worse. However I think that it doesn’t change. I’ll give a quick summary of why I believe this.
The nature of our lives as eternal observers, if that assumption is correct then the essence of our experience must remain separate from our physical facilities, including cognition (performed by the physical brain). By this I mean that, although the picture may be blurry, the sounds garbled, the sensory inputs fuzzy, even though the sensory filter of the ‘brain’ may be functioning poorly, and despite the fact that we may lack the ability to retain or recall information due to faults of the brain, the essential nature of perception of the universe must be as flawless and immutable as our own existence as observers.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
DSC05669
Yet again, I find myself looking at this. Outwardly it appears chaotic, yet within there is order where none was suspected.
That which offends the eye may yet please the mind.
That which offends the eye may yet please the mind.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
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