Stop blowing smoke up my ass!

The first time I heard 'Are you trying to blow smoke up my ass?' was in this context:

Drill Sergeant:  What's wrong with you private?  You failed to accomplish a simple task!  Why?!

Private:  I thought you said, "place all open liquids in the trash can," Drill Sergeant.

Drill Sergeant:  (holding a green plastic bottle at eye level) What is this, Private?

Private:  Shampoo, Drill Sergeant.

Drill Sergeant:  Is it a half-empty bottle of shampoo, Private?

Private:  Yes sir.

Drill Sergeant:  WHAT?

Private:  Yes... Drill Sergeant!

Drill Sergeant:  Why is it not in the can, Private?

Private:  Because it's... I didn't think it was... liquid.

Drill Sergeant:  Is it a gas?

Private: (starts to shake his head) N...

Drill Sergeant:  Is it SOLID?

Private:  (still shaking his head) no...

Drill Sergeant:  Then what?! 

Private:  A.. a..  gel.  Drill Sergeant.

Drill Sergeant:  Are you trying to blow smoke up my ass?

Private:  n... No, Drill Sergeant.

Drill Sergeant:  (twisting the top off of the bottle) cup your hands in front of you, Private.

(At this point the Private placed his cupped palms together in front of his belt.)

Drill Sergeant:  (peering closely at the side and front of the Private's face as if he were looking for the smallest flaw, or eye movement, or shift from the position of attention)  PALMS UP!  Are you an idiot, Private?

Private:  No, Drill Sergeant!

Drill Sergeant:  (tipping the bottle over the Private's hands)  We.  Will.  See.  Private.  We will see.

(At this point the shampoo began to ooze out of the bottle and coat the Private's hands.)

Drill Sergeant:  Does this feel like a glob of gel has fallen into your hands?  Or.  Does this feel like a liquid is pouring into your hands?

Private:  A.. a liquid.  Drill Sergeant.  Sorry, Drill Sergeant.

Drill Sergeant:  So you were trying to blow smoke up my ass, weren't you?   

Private:  No Drill Sergeant.

Drill Sergeant:  (pointing) Go in that latrine.  Wash the liquid soap off your hands.  And get back in my formation.  You have thirty seconds.  GO!

(At this point the Drill Sergeant handed the bottle and cap to another Private in our formation and directed him to dispose of the bottle and return to the formation.)

Drill Sergeant:  It appears that my instructions were unclear.  ALL liquids are prohibited in my barracks.  All medications OF ANY KIND are prohibited in my barracks.  I asked if there were questions, got none, and - yet - I still found a liquid.  On the command of move, you all will have another FULL MINUTE to search your belongings for liquids and medicines, dispose of them in the center trash bin, and return to the position of attention in formation.  MOVE!!

(At this point some soldiers began to scramble again and more bottles of various types were thrown away.  The Private returned from the latrine and the Drill Sergeant began to holler at him about the mess he made by dripping shampoo on the floor and the latrine door.  The private then wiped up the drips with paper towels.)

Drill Sergeant:  (over the sound of the Private counting off his push-ups)  You ALL better be back in my formation by NOW!  If I find ONE more liquid, or ANY medicine of ANY kind, that means you're ALL blowing smoke up my ASS!

(Three duffle bags later he found a small bottle of saline solution for soft contacts.  We all began to do push ups, until it was time to do squat-thrusts, until it was time to do wish-bones, until it was time to do more push-ups.) 

          It is nice to know the (supposedly true) origin of the phrase.  I must admit I find it difficult to take this explanation 100% seriously; even after seeing the actual device and seeing the old drawings.  It's too easy to fabricate an item and fake the explanation for me to swallow anything this far fetched hook-line-and-sinker (as it were).

          I have used the phrase in it's bastardized form of either "I-think-you-are-being-less-than-truthful" as well as "Stop-using-foolishly-overt-flattery-because-it-isn't-working".

          Until today, if someone were to tell me about an old British custom of reviving drowned people by blowing smoke up their ass...I would have replied:  "Do you believe it was a real custom?  If so, I  think you are blowing smoke up my ass."

          But—ever willing to play devil's advocate—why be so positive it doesn't work?  Just because it sounds like a bag of leeches?

          I've heard about butt-chugging.  I've read how Marlyn Monroe insured her last suicide attempt was successful.  Is it possible that a gust of nicotine absorbed through the rectum will cause someone who just inhaled a few cups of water to violently cough?     
      

WOOL by Hugh Howey - review (☆☆☆☆)

          This is a first for me:  a 540 page, self-published SF book that's can't-put-it-down good.  I plan to immediately hunt for more Hugh Howey books.

          To accurately review this book I need to explain why it was not 5-star 'amazing' and only 4-star 'really liked it'.  Simply put: for a novel to get my highest rating it needs to stir emotions and my intelligence.   The first current-day author who comes to mind (who always does both) is Patrick Rothfuss.

          PROS:  The milieu in WOOL is expertly described and imaginatively revealed.  Every character is rendered with finesse; we quickly care about these characters.  The story unfolds at the right speed...the reader figures out what will come next just a bit before the characters do.   The grammar is flawless.  The plot exposition is perfect with a great beginning, an informative middle, and an explosive third act. 

          CONS:   Even with a large variety of death on display, WOOL isn't gory, gritty, or dark and it is barbie-and-ken asexual.   The target audience is pre-teens and teens; adults will like this book as much as they liked Harry Potter, but they'll quickly recognize that—other than the thrill of suspense—it doesn't make you laugh or cry or shudder or...you get the gist.  Also, at no point did I learn a new way of thinking about an old idea, let alone anything novel.  In fact, there's a massive flaw in the physics around page 400.  If the author did any research on scuba diving he could have fixed it with a few added sentences (and, thus, proof that editors and first-draft readers are valuable).

          KIND OF A SPOILER:  Note to Mr Howey - Air, trapped in a flexible container under water, is compressed by the weight of the water.  As that container rises to the surface the air expands.  Under hundreds of feet of water the air will expand exponentially when surfacing.  (Juliette's suit would have exploded as she surfaced quickly and if she weren't continually exhaling her lungs would have exploded too).

          For me, the Pros massively outweigh the Cons.  This would make a great holiday gift for any young fan of Speculative Fiction (and especially those who like post-apocalyptic SF).

LOOM by Polynoid

Dishonored Review (☆☆☆+)

          For the current new-game price, DISHONORED fails to live up to the hype.

          I completed all of this game's nine-levels in 25 hours.  My style of gameplay was stealthy and I enjoy searching for—and finding—hidden treasures.  I suspect an aggressive gamer might complete the game in less than 15 hours.

          This game is only worth about $15.  For a new sixty dollar game to be considered good-to-great (four or five stars) it should take someone like me no less than one hundred hours to complete and an aggressive gamer no less than sixty hours start-to-finish.

          Also, unfortunately, there are no mini-games or puzzles in DISHONORED.  It isn't a bad game.  I enjoyed playing it.  It's just not worth the price.  

Today I'm Standing and Ovating For:

   
    The State of Washington - Marriage equality; Marijuana legalization

        The State of Maine - Marriage equality

    The State of Maryland - Marriage equality

    The State of Colorado - Marijuana legalization


This should be titled The Two-Party Political System Explained:

Cancer The Forbidden Cures

Got 90 minutes to learn why I distrust every person who has worked, is working, or will work in the medical profession?

Natural Phenomena - VideoSapien

cult of ignorance - Isaac Asimov

Amazon Feedback

          Fifteen years ago, I owned the pants which are pictured top-left.  They were rad, commando-comfy, and lasted about 60 washings before they fell apart.  I especially loved the large splashes of blue and purple.

          A few weeks ago I saw them on Amazon.  $46 (with shipping).  Feeling nostalgic, I ordered.  A few days ago the package arrived containing a different pair of pants.             

          They fit.  They were comfortable.  I didn't hate the pattern.  And I'm the type of guy who would only deal with the hassle of returning them if they didn't, weren't, or if I did.

          I wrote this ☆☆☆ review on Amazon:

          I received different pants.   It's now obvious the photo isn't a model wearing pants but a close-up swatch of photo-shopped material.  Although they're of a similar palette, the picture shows a large print with splashes of color every five inches; the actual pants have tiny color specks every inch.  Size, delivery, and material OK.  I'll use them, not return them, but they aren't what I ordered.

          Today, I got a call from the seller.  He acknowledged the pants I received (bottom left) weren't those pictured and asked if I wanted to return them for a full refund.  I explained my quantity of dissatisfaction (and how it wasn't enough to merit returning the pants).  He offered me a 50% rebate if I removed my review.

          I erased.  He paid me.

1st Presidential Debate

          The first presidential debate is over.  Every sheep in the herd has now had plenty of time to listen to their favorite pundit, comedian, and/or talking head to learn what their opinion is.  Most of ewe decided Romney won.

          It seems many measured the debate performances of Mister Romney and President Obama using the criteria of High School Debate Team judges...and if this had been a High School debate, I might agree.

          Why has nobody pointed out the obvious?  We all saw President Obama not debate, not engage, and not argue.  Instead, he speechified.  He stuck to the talking points, re-hashed, and never raised his voice.

          In a game of American Football, if the clock shows several minutes remain in the final quarter, your score is 300 and your opponent's is 238 (and one only needs 270 to win) a quarterback may choose to "take a knee" and run down the clock.

          President Obama did just that.  He didn't fumble, didn't try for a hail mary pass, and—most important—didn't give any ground.  He seemed to be aware that debate performance has rarely, if ever, been important in a US Presidential election (although some point to the first Nixon-Kennedy debate as a game changer).  He chose not to participate and, today, he still has the same amount of (more than enough) electoral college votes to be re-elected (if the election were today).

          I understand the desire to watch both teams bang into each other and scramble for the ball until the last second.  When your team is winning and your own quarterback takes a knee, one feels a twinge of regret, because (having been there before) we empathize with the other team.  Wanting to watch a more thrilling game, we may even wish our own team's quarterback wouldn't make the tactfully-justified and technically-intelligent choice to run down 40-seconds on the clock...and we may voice our derision.

          Give President Obama some credit.  He knows what he is doing.  If you have forgotten, just U-Tube a few of his 2008 dust-ups with Hillary or McCain.

          He took a knee.  Stop bleating about it with all the other sheepish Monday-moaning armchair quarterbacks.