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You don't need to read this. This is not the blog you are looking for. |
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Every now and then I have a "short" idea and put it here. I am an old man, and not just on the outside. Even my inner self has become bald, hunched, and wrinkled. So if you have even a smidgen of vitality flowing in your veins, you might find what I say to be insufferably archaic, old-fashioned, perhaps even antediluvian. I don't really expect anyone to read this blog. Except me, of course. But if you do happen to read it and like to argue, then please comment, because I will argue about almost anything. Entry with the most comments is "Invalid Entry" 
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| This was created by the story generator at http://www.plot-generator.org.uk/ Witty Tony Barker --- by a Computerized Story Generator Tony Barker looked at the warped knife in his hands and felt delighted. He walked over to the window and reflected on his picturesque surroundings. He had always loved deserted Exeter with its grotesque, greasy gates. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel delighted. Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Ruth Platt. Ruth was an intelligent queen with curvaceous thighs and ruddy warts. Tony gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a witty, optimistic, cocoa drinker with pointy thighs and ugly warts. His friends saw him as a blushing, boiled brute. Once, he had even helped a shaggy baby bird recover from a flying accident. But not even a witty person who had once helped a shaggy baby bird recover from a flying accident was prepared for what Ruth had in store today. The sun shone like sleeping lizards, making Tony delighted. As Tony stepped outside and Ruth came closer, he could see the awful glint in her eye. "I am here because I want affection," Ruth bellowed, in a special tone. She slammed her fist against Tony's chest, with the force of 7489 ostriches. "I frigging love you, Tony Barker." Tony looked back, even more delighted and still fingering the warped knife. "Ruth, get out of my house," he replied. They looked at each other with ecstatic feelings, like two tough, testy tortoises bouncing at a very cowardly holiday, which had jazz music playing in the background and two brave uncles skipping to the beat. Tony regarded Ruth's curvaceous thighs and ruddy warts. He held out his hand. "Let's not fight," he whispered, gently. "Hmph," pondered Ruth. "Please?" begged Tony with puppy dog eyes. Ruth looked healthy, her body blushing like a plain, precious piano. Then Ruth came inside for a nice mug of cocoa. THE END |
| I ate my first (and hopefully last) pomelo. I'll review it here so you will not have to waste your time and money trying one. The pomelo looks like a grapefruit but is larger. Maybe 3 times as large by volume? And it also cost 2 or 3 times what a grapefruit costs. Why do we like a grapefruit? Because of the deliciously juicy sourness, right? So what do you get if you double the size and decrease the juiciness and the sourness? An abomination! The pomelo. Avoid them if you can. |
| Racism will persist as long as there are people who think that humankind can be divided into 5 or 6 groups called races. The idea that "your race does not matter" is itself a racist idea. In a true non-racial society, the question "What is your race?" would be met by a blank stare and perhaps the answer would be, "What is a race?" "But it's impossible to reach such a non-racial condition!" you protest. Actually, it's not, and we are headed there, but slowly. The globalization of people's movements will presumably increase, there will be more marriages of diversity, more unclassifiable children, until finally the entire makeshift racial structure will collapse, probably before the end of this century. |
| My blog got mentioned today in "Invalid Item" so I guess I better post a new entry now. He had an interesting topic in his newsletter about ending a blog entry. Although I don't bother with signatures or anything like that, I do put some thought into making each blog entry a cohesive piece with a beginning, a middle, and an end. For instance, this is the end of this one.  |
| Wasps are mean! I was standing on my balcony drinking coffee yesterday morning when a wasp flew lazily by. He was too close for my comfort so I swatted him away with the back of my hand. It knocked him three feet through the air, but he immediately flew back. I tried swatting him again, thinking foolish wasp! but now he was alert and difficult to swat. After a few seconds he zoomed away. I had the strong feeling that his actions were a message to me: You caught me napping with that first swat, but you won't hit me again. Now fast forward to several hours later when I am again out on the balcony. Two wasps fly up in a purposeful way. I go to swat them away and immediately one goes for my arm and gets in a good sting just above my wrist. It starts burning and I am shocked by getting stung, but out of the corner of my eye I see the second wasp also intends to attack. I get panicky and start dancing around flailing my arms, trying to avoid getting stung. After a few seconds both wasps zoom away. I get the bug spray and stand inside the sliding glass door with my nose pressed to it awaiting their return. Fortunately, a wasp sting is not that big a deal unless you are allergic to them. It burns like a match head held to my skin. The wasps don't come back and I wonder if there is a wasp nest on the balcony. So I get a hand mirror and examine all under the railing and everywhere else and can see no nest. I can only conclude that the wasp that I humiliated that morning went and got a friend and came back to get his revenge on me! My advice to you: If you are going to swat at a wasp, SWAT TO KILL! Wasps do not play games! |
| I never read "realistic" novels. They really bore me. I am already living in reality. I don't need to read a story about it. But that said, it's a little difficult to draw the line between what is realistic and what is not. I suppose the best way to look at it is that a novel has it's own reality and it's a question of whether the reader finds that reality interesting enough to read about it or not. Questions of what is real and what is not real are so subjective that they probably are not worth arguing about. For someone like me who has a good imagination and a life of experience, there is no need to overly describe a car accident in a novel. I know what's involved. This reminds me of a movie they used to show high school kids in America called "Signal 30". It was actual footage of horrible accidents with mangled dying people and all the rest. Kids would get sick when they watched it. The point of showing the kids the movie was to make them better, safer drivers. So that's one philosophy. Use media to show people how horrible life can be and maybe they will be more careful as they live their life. But I read to entertain myself, sometimes called escaping life. Start showing me how horrible life is and I'll toss your book on the reject pile and search for one that will take me on an exciting adventure and leave me feeling good about things. |
| To be a living person you must be separate from the rest of the Universe. It's like the relationship between a drop of water and the ocean. You can be a drop and hop around and go places and do things... or you can join the ocean, lose your individual identity, and have eternal peace. When you are alive you are a drop (or a drip) and when you die you go back to the ocean. So the next time someone tells you that you are all wet, just say "Yes I am and I am proud of it!" |
| Why are things exactly the way they are? Why is my situation exactly like this instead of some other way? These are questions that get asked a lot. There are basically two answers, which reduce to the same answer if you think about them. One is the conventional answer where you describe a chain of cause and effect. The problem with that answer is that there is no end to the chain. For example: Why did my marriage fail? Because I drank too much. Why did I drink too much? Because I had an unhappy childhood. Why did I have an unhappy childhood? Because my stepfather was cruel to me. Why was my stepfather cruel to me? Because he... You see what I mean? It's the nature of a chain of cause and effect to extend back to the beginning of time. Which leads us to our second answer. Things are exactly the way they are because they have to be some way to exist at all. They can't be "no way"; they have to be "some way". The situation is what it is because to be a situation it has to be describable. To be describable it has to have specifics. To have specifics means it has to be a unique situation. If the situation were not exactly some way, then it would not exist. It is exactly THIS way rather than some other way not because it couldn't be some other way. It COULD be some other way! But it isn't! (NOTE: Theories of Alternate Realities are addressing this question in a very interesting way. See http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Multiverse) For example: Why was I born in my hometown? Because I had to be born somewhere. No matter where I was born I could ask: Why was I born here? And why at one particular time? Because it had to be SOME time. Whatever time it was would end up being a specific particular time. There is no other type of time! Why are things the way they are? Because if they weren't the way they are then they would be a different way.  |
| As the battle between the elves and the Fellowship raged on, it finally reached a turning point and the elves were being pushed back, but then a weird rumbling growl was heard and a dark shadow appeared in the sky. "It's huge!" Bill said. "What is it?" One of the elf captains laughed. "I'll tell you what it is. It's the Ebola Amoeba! Now we all will die! Hahahaha!" "You would commit suicide just to win the battle?" "Why not?" said the elf. "If we lost, I would be expected to commit ritual suicide. This way we all die AND we win!" "But what good is victory if you are dead!" The Ebola Amoeba had spread itself into a gigantic thin pancake of nastiness and was slowly settling over the battlefield. No one knew what to expect if they became engulfed by the thing, but there undoubtedly would be nothing pleasant about it. That was my latest entry in a campfire called
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| I like to read fiction, but this morning as I was reading a novel by one of my favorite authors I had the odd thought Why am I reading about other people doing stuff? Fiction and a lot of nonfiction is about other people doing things. Why is that so irresistible to me? Why am I drawn to it? Why am I spending time reading about OTHER people doing things? This must be the feeling that makes some people say, "No, I never read novels or stories." But it seems so instinctual to me, kind of like what a cat experiences, perhaps? If you drag a bit of fluff tied to a thread in front of a cat, the cat instantly becomes alert and interested, maybe even crouching and pouncing. The cat isn't stupid. It knows it's a bit of fluff on a thread, not a small animal, but the chase reflex is so deep and primal that the cat has no choice but to obey it. So with me. I read "John crouched in the bushes, his heart beating wildly..." and I am hooked. Why is John in the bushes? Why is his heart beating fast? Why do I care? It's just words by another writer like me! There is no John. There are no bushes. There is only someone's imagination at work. It's a game of imaginations. That writer says I will imagine this and put it in words and then you will read it and you will imagine something. And that's what happens. He tosses his fluff on a thread in front of me and I pounce! |
| What is laughter? Let's examine basic monkey behavior for an answer. You are the lead primate as the troop travels through the jungle. Suddenly you are startled by something. You draw in a quick gasp of breath. Is there danger? Now the breath must be expelled that you drew in. The expelling of breath could occur as a scream of warning that there is a danger. It could be a scream of fear for your own safety. It could be a scream of aggression if you are startled by something closer to your own size, like another primate. Or it could be a false alarm. You were startled by something that isn't dangerous at all. So you expel your breath as a laugh. Laughter means: I encountered something unexpected, but it isn't dangerous. If you want to be funny you have to say or write something that is unexpected, but not a serious threat. If it is unexpected, but perceived as a threat, then it will not be considered funny. This explains why jokes about race, gender, sexual preference, religion, etc, can backfire. The listener/reader may feel threatened. To be more clear about the "no threat" aspect: If a stranger points a gun at you and says "Give me your money," it is not funny, even though it is very unexpected. Saying or writing what is expected is not funny, with the exception of "repetition" humor like the "running gag" or specific comedy team routines. To repeat, if what you say or write is exactly what a reasonable person would expect, then it will not be considered funny. To put it in simple visual terms: AAAA is not funny. AAAK is funny. Not extremely funny, to be sure, but AAAK is slightly funnier than AAAA. For a concrete example taken from a show I was watching on TV just moments ago, The Big Bang Theory: Sheldon is sad. Amy hugs him. She says " How does that feel?" And he says "Like I am being squeezed by a boa constrictor," (which is funny because unexpected) whereupon she stops hugging him and then he says....... "Don't stop!" (Even funnier because our expectation is being squeezed by a boa constrictor is undesireable. But Sheldon has an unexpected response.) To make that sequence not funny, we need only rewrite it so that it proceeds as a reasonable person would expect: Sheldon is sad. Amy hugs him. She says, "How does that feel?" And he says. "Good. Thank you." We can make a simple guide now for how to be funny. As you write or speak, resist the urge to always say what you know people expect to hear... while keeping in mind the "no threat" rule. You should not present yourself as a crazy person. Choose something unexpected to say BUT STILL connected to the main flow. Go back to my Big Bang example. If Sheldon's answer had been "like Graham Crackers" then it would have been unexpected but too random. Too much randomness is tiring and ultimately not funny. You have to mix the unexpected with the expected while being sure you don't stray too far away from the topic and being sure you don't become a threat. Further discussion is welcome! |
| Dialogue from an old gangster movie... He's traveled all over - left his mark. Everybody remembers him, but nobody knows him. That's me on the internet!  |
| Like many people here, I am creative in several areas - writing, art, music. A sentence that describes my "creative activity" in any area is "I have an idea for a project". One "gets an idea" which one then "works out" in the form of a finished piece... of writing, of art, of music. As everyone knows, there are good ideas that end well and bad ideas that end poorly. I think the most essential quality of a "good" idea is that it generates forward motion. It spawns more ideas as you work with it. The problem with a good idea is not finding ways to embody it. The problem with a good idea is choosing from among all the many ways that come to mind. A "bad" idea, in contrast, does not generate forward motion. You find yourself frequently "blocked" and unable to think of what comes next. A good idea is like a fireworks sparkler throwing off sparks. A bad idea is like a dark cinder. A good idea is awake, alert, and chattering. A bad idea is sluggish, asleep, and possibly dead.  |
| I have black tea for it's robust flavor and I have green tea for it's milder flavor and health benefits. Decaff and regular for each, of course, so that's 4 different kinds of tea right there. But then I also have Chamomile tea for making me sleepy. I have Herbal Medicines' Breathe Easy to drink as a preventative when I feel breathing difficulty coming on. I have Yogi Throat Comfort for when my throat gets dry from so much mouth breathing. I have Triple Leaf Detox for when I wake up at 4am and just need some reassurance. After supper I usually have a cup of peppermint tea. I have Vanilla Chai for when I want a little excitement in my tea drinking. And when I am in the mood for something completely wacky, I drink Badia Hisbiscus tea. So let's see, that's like... 11 different boxes of tea leaves in my cupboard! But wait, there's more! I also have soime giant tea bags for ice te making in the summer and.. I forgot the tea I actually drink the most, which is Prince of Persia Oolong tea. This tea I buy at Big Lots and it's so cheap they practically pay YOU to drink it. I think it's 100 bags for $3. It's from China. And it's quite good, especially for somebody like me who has already gone over the edge with his tea drinking. |
| I suspect not. Because you don't know yourself what you really mean. See Sigmund Freud about that. And even if you could say what you mean, it's unlikely your listener would interpret it correctly. The example that sticks in my mind: I was talking with several people and mentioned my "round head" as I happen to be bald. An African-American woman asked me why I said I had a "brown head". She was quite serious because that's what she "heard". We all have similar filters that affect how we hear and how we interpret. Unless you are the twin sibling of the communicator, it's unlikely you can grasp correctly everything he is trying to communicate. Solution: Don't worry about it. Try to be as clear as possible when you express yourself. But be fully aware people are going to receive correctly only half of what you are trying to say. That's okay. That's just the way it is. That's why you have to repeat yourself using different words until you finally get through. |
| It never does. It's always new people, new faces, new motivations, new situations, new styles, new fashions, new expectations, new everything! Therefore the pronouncement "Those who ignore the past are doomed to repeat it" cannot be true and trying to compare a current situation to a past situation cannot be completely legitimate. At most, we might say that History resembles itself. But everything does. Otherwise, it would have a different name. All music resembles music. All coins resemble coins. Etc. Is "history" even worthy of a noun in the first place? What is it? You think you know until you analyze it. Then it seems to boil down to a lot of different opinions about what "happened" in the past, bolstered by artifacts dug from the ground, including whatever scraps of writing survive the ages by getting copied over and over. And I put "happened" in quotes because that's another entire discussion about what should qualify as "happening". History does NOT repeat itself. |
| Some of the residents... Tick and Tack Tweedledee and Tweedledum Teeter and Totter Twiddle and Twaddle |
| I was watching a cooking show on TV last night and the chef was making a type of donut. Part one he prepared a yeast dough that was soft and wet. Then he said, "And now I will put it in the refrigerator for an hour to rise..." I jumped out of my chair. What!!! The refrigerator! I have made homemade bread less than a dozen times so I usually follow a recipe pretty closely. Without exception, they always say "Put the dough in a WARM place to rise." I expend some effort creating a "warm" place for the dough, often by setting the oven on low for a few minutes then checking it with a thermometer to make sure it's not TOO warm. Now I find out I could have just set it on the counter at room temperature! You can be sure I will be trying that next time! And I will blog again if it fails! BTW, the chef's purpose in using the fridge was, he said, that it would make the holes in the dough smaller so that you don't get big gaping chasms in the final product. |
| The sense of self is like shrink wrap. It forms into the shape necessary. This is why even little children have a sense of self. Why old people suffering from dementia still have a sense of self. Why your dog has a sense of self. You might ask: But is it the same sense of self? Isn't the dog's sense of self of lower quality somehow? No. Don't confuse sense of self with intelligence or anything else. Sense of self is a big part of what makes a living thing alive. One-celled animals have it. It can easily be argued that plants have it. And it can be argued that they don't. If you spend a lot of time walking in the woods, then you know that they do. You have seen the broken over tree reaching back up to the sun. But to a tree a year is as a day to us. Plants live on a completely different time scale. How simple does a life form have to get before it has no sense of self? The borderline seems to be the virus. Probably no sense of self there. The virus is a complicated chemical system that is just on the edge of being alive, but not quite there. |
| It's a great feeling from age 10 to age 50 that you are "part of it", that you are "what's happening", that the world is determined by you. You still have that feeling from 50 to 60, but there is a growing awareness that you are going to lose it. Then from 60 to 70 it becomes painfully obvious that you ARE losing it, that you are becoming "out of it", that you will soon be irrelevant and possibly clueless. Don't know why I posted this. Reading it over now it seems so irrelevant and clueless... |
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