Like A Version: My Alpha-vile Autopsy

A personal A-thru-Z of things ranging from minor irritants to the despicably horrid.

          If you want to know what's really going on in a society or ideology, follow the money.  If money is flowing to advertising instead of to musicians, journalists, and artists, then a society is more concerned with manipulation than with truth or beauty.  If content is worthless, then people will start to become empty-headed and content-less.  The combination of hive mind and advertising has resulted in a new kind of social contract.  The basic idea of this contract is that authors, journalists, musicians, and artists are encouraged to treat the fruits of their intellects and imaginations as fragments to be given without pay to the hive mind.  Reciprocity takes the form of self-promotion.  Culture is to become precisely nothing but advertising. —  Jaron Lanier, You Are Not a Gadget (2010)



          All that is necessary, as it seems to me, to convince any reasonable person that the Bible is simply and purely of human invention of barbarian invention is to read it.  Read it as you would any other book; think of it as you would of any other; get the bandage of reverence from your eyes; drive from your heart the phantom of fear; push from the throne of your brain the coiled form of superstition then read the Holy Bible, and you will be amazed that you ever, for one moment, supposed a being of infinite wisdom, goodness and purity, to be the author of such ignorance and of such atrocity.  —  Robert G. Ingersoll, The Gods (1876)



          Are you a public smoker that whines about the self-righteousness and 'negativity' of some people who refuse to suck on burning tubes of paper filled with chemical-soaked chopped up leaves?  OK, so you painfully attack our lungs and nasal passages with your perverted public pollution and we're supposed to be positive, pat you on the back, and tell you that everything is fine?  Everything is not fine.  You violate our bodies.  You give us pain.  You're no better than a rapist.  Until you come to your senses, you are the enemy.  —  Duane Alan Hahn, Random Terrain (.com)



         Much of the public, and a dismaying number of psychiatrists, psychologists, and neuroscientists, mistakenly believe that if a behavior is influenced by genes or mediated by the brain then the actor cannot choose his actions.  While every behavior has a biological correlate (and a genetic contribution) and every experience that changes behavior does so by changing the brain, the critical question is not whether brain changes occur (they do) but whether these changes block the influence of the factors that support self-control.  —  Gene M. Heyman, Addiction: A Disorder of Choice (2009)




          There are over 600 chemical ingredients that have been linked to cancer or are believed toxic to the reproductive system.  Many are used to manufacture perfume and cologne.  In 1986, the National Academy of Sciences grouped fragrances with insecticides, heavy metals, solvents, food additives and certain air pollutants as the six categories of chemicals that should be given high priority for neurotoxicity testing.  According to their report, 95% of chemicals used in fragrances are synthetic compounds derived from petroleum.  They include benzene derivatives, aldehydes and many other known toxic substances linked to cancer, birth defects and allergic reactions.  —  Djehuty Ma'at-Ra, The Dangers of Perfume and Cologne (dherbs.com)


           Does he repeat himself, lose things, need reminders, or seem less interested in social activities or hobbies?  Is he more forgetful, irritable, angry, agitated, or suspicious?  Are you concerned about his judgment?  Does he have trouble remembering words, difficulty operating household appliances, or become anxious when separated from family?  Is he confused by time or misjudge how much time has elapsed?  Have you noticed changes in personal hygiene, personality, or behavior?  Has he started seeing, hearing or believing things that are not real?  — Alzheimer Checklist, Full Circle of Care (.org)




          Every one of your acts of smallness and meanness throws light on the boundless wretchedness of the human animal.  'Why so tragic?' you ask. 'Do you feel responsible for all evil?'  With remarks like that you condemn yourself.  If, little man among millions, you were to shoulder the barest fraction of your responsibility, the world would be a very different place.  Your great friends wouldn't perish, struck down by your smallness.  —  Wilhelm Reich,  Listen, Little Man! (1945)



          It is best not to be hypocritical, but I would rather be an honest hypocrite than a person who tries to make truth conform around his or her own desires and imperfections.  In other words, I would rather be an honest hypocrite than lie about my imperfections.  —  Lonnie Lee Best, Hard Core Truth (.com)



          Once master the machinery of Symbolic Logic, and you have a mental occupation always at hand, of absorbing interest, and one that will be of real use to you in any subject you may take up.  It will give you clearness of thought—the ability to see your way through a puzzle—the habit of arranging your ideas in an orderly and get-at-able form—and, more valuable than all, the power to detect fallacies, and to tear to pieces the flimsy illogical arguments, which you will so continually encounter in books, in newspapers, in speeches, and even in sermons, and which so easily delude those who have never taken the trouble to master this fascinating Art.  —  Lewis Carroll, Symbolic Logic, Part 1: Elementary (1896)



          That inverted patriotism whereby the love of one's own nation is transformed into the hatred of another nation, and the fierce craving to destroy individual members of that other nation is no new thing.  Wars have not always, or perhaps commonly, demanded for their origin and support the pervasion of such a frenzy among the body of the people. ...  Only in recent times, and even now over but a small part of the world, has the great mass of the individuals of any nation been placed in such quick touch with great political events that their opinions, their passion, and their will have played an appreciable part in originating strife or in determining ... the political conduct of a war.  —  John A. Hobson, The Psychology of Jingoism (1901)


          Accurately details the paradox of low-to-middle income blue collar Americans voting against their own economic interests.  —  Review for Thomas Frank's What's The Matter With Kansas? (2005)



          Speech is ... a form of music.  It has tones and timbres, pitches and rhythms.  It can be loud or soft, punchy or laid back, fast or slow.  But when you are talking, things are not organized in advance the way they are in a song, so you must improvise on the spot.  Speaking is much like singing a song that hasn't been written yet. ...  Remember, your voice is one third of the impression you make ... make that one third count.  —  Renee Grant-Williams, Voice Power: Using Your Voice to Captivate, Persuade, and Command Attention (2002)




          Isn't that the problem?  That women have been swindled for centuries into substituting adornment for love, fashion (as it were) for passion? ... All the cosmetics names seemed obscenely obvious to me in their promises of sexual bliss.  They were all 'firming' or 'uplifting' or 'invigorating'.  They made you 'tingle'.  Or 'glow'.  Or 'feel young'.  They were prepared with hormones or placentas or royal jelly.  All the juice and joy missing in the lives of these women were to be supplied by the contents of jars and bottles.  No wonder they would spend $20 for an ounce of face makeup or $30 for a half-ounce of hormone cream.  What price bliss?  What price sexual ecstasy?  —  Erica Jong, How to Save Your Own Life (1977)



          The media organizations in charge of vetting our images of war have become fewer and bigger — and the news more uniform and gung ho.  Six huge corporations now control the major U.S. media ... As Phil Donahue, the former host of MSNBC's highest-rated show who was fired by the network in February 2003 for bringing on anti-war voices, told Democracy Now!:  "We have more (TV) outlets now, but most of them sell the Bowflex machine.  The rest of them are Jesus and jewelry.  There really isn't diversity in the media anymore.  Dissent?  Forget about it."   —  Amy & David Goodman, Why Media Ownership Matters (Seattle Times, 2005)




         We had to LOL when we read how txt-msg lingo is replacing stndrd english in student academic pprs.  1 casualty of da trend is uz of capital letter to start a sentence.  kids feel free to lowercase everything.  pnktu8n is also dissed.  tchaz try to help but its often 2 l8. ... who wudda thot the big threat to riting wd b the cellfone?  —  the revenge of e.e. cummings, 2008 Boston Globe editorial (after a study warned texting could hurt a writer's command of standardized English)



         Americans can eat garbage, provided you sprinkle it liberally with ketchup, mustard, chili sauce, Tabasco sauce, cayenne pepper, or any other condiment which destroys the original flavor of the dish.  —  Henry  Miller, (1891-1980)




          The quintessential human, in this overpopulated world of 7 billion, is someone who is a right-handed 28 year old Chinese man, makes less than $12,000 a year, and has a cell phone but not a bank account.  By 2030, that person will come from India.  —  National Geographic Magazine, 7 Billion




         Why am I addicted to this crap, at a point in my life when I can tell the difference between worthwhile and worthless?  When did this monster first rear its sordid head? ... Did I have a head trauma I don’t remember? ... Oh, I don’t care for all of it.  ... Springer and the court shows hold no interest (she says proudly).  I seem to prefer the relationship shows ... where everyone makes a fool of themselves, kisses are choreographed to crappy music, drinking abounds, hot tubs bubble away filled with narcissistic hardbodies and people come together who I know will leave each other by the time the show airs. ... Anyway, I’ve admitted it.  And I’m ashamed.  And maybe that’s a first step in weaning myself off this low-level entertainment.   —  Lea Lane, The Reality: An Addiction to Trash (Lea's Corner of the World)



          I tell you people who have off road cars (in the city) are stupid and mad.  They should be driven from the roads and birched to within an inch of their lives.  Off road cars are daft, anti social, and idiotic.  And the people who drive them are fools.  ... You see them at the supermarket too and this is madness.  If everyone in London changed their off-roaders for something smaller then every (traffic) jam would be halved at a stroke.  —  Jeremy Clarkson, BBC's Top Gear (from Neerav Bhatt's Road Less Traveled)



          Time has come today - Young hearts can go their way - Can't put it off another day - I don't care what others say - They say we don't listen anyway - Time has come today. ... Now the time has come - There's no place to run - I might get burned up by the sun - But I had my fun - I've been loved and put aside - I've been crushed by the tumbling tide - And my soul has been psychedelicized. ... TIME.  —  The Chambers Brothers, Time Has Come Today (1968) (video)



          Radical environmental groups have shown their willingness to be physically provocative and Information Warfare offers them the ability to strike out in a new, imaginative, and less personally dangerous way at oil companies, logging companies, and other groups unsympathetic to endangered species.  Information brokers and data bankers sell your name, your upper-middle-class zip code, and the date of your last underwear purchase to anyone with a floppy disk—all without your permission  —  Winn Schwartau, Information Warfare (1994)



           There are certain well-defined and narrowly limited classes of speech, the prevention and punishment of which have never been thought to raise any constitutional problem.  These include the lewd and obscene, the profane, the libelous, and the insulting or "fighting" words those which by their very utterance inflict injury or tend to incite an immediate breach of the peace.  It has been well observed that such utterances are no essential part of any exposition of ideas, and are of such slight social value as a step to truth that any benefit that may be derived from them is clearly outweighed by the social interest in order and morality.  —  Justice Frank Murphy, re: Chaplinsky v. State of New Hampshire, 315 U.S. 568


          Whether it be a sofa, a chair, even a love-seat, furniture should NOT give you splinters.  Which is what wicker furniture, especially well-worn, heavily used wicker furniture, runs the risk of doing.  When I’m watching a TV show and reach over for that bowl of popcorn, I don’t want to be nervous about dragging my arm across the wicker arm and pulling hairs from my flesh.  I also just dislike the creak of wicker when moving or leaning whilst seated.  It’s like nails on a chalkboard for me.  —  Ryan, Bad Word Pairs #21 "Wicker Furniture"

          Sometimes cats that aren't necessarily bothered by changes within the house can react problematically with the arrival of company.  The problem may not have been caused by lack of social interaction with enough people when it was a kitten, but it might be brought about by a single unfortunate troubling experience with a noisy, frightening, and unkind guest who unwittingly taught the cat to avoid all contact with future strangers, thus resulting in xenophobia or the fear of strangers.  —  How to Break Your Cat's Cycle of Xenophobia (WikiHow)


          That in some fields of his country there are certain shining stones of several colours, whereof the YAHOOS are violently fond: and when part of these stones is fixed in the earth, as it sometimes happens, they will dig with their claws for whole days to get them out; then carry them away, and hide them by heaps in their kennels; but still looking round with great caution, for fear their comrades should find out their treasure. ...In the fields where the shining stones abound, the fiercest and most frequent battles are fought, occasioned by perpetual inroads of the neighbouring YAHOOS.  —  Jonathan Swift, Gulliver's Travels (1726)

          How long will humans last?  This question gets almost no attention.  Extrapolating the future courses of the many variables which will effect, may alter, or might determine our eventual outcome is prohibitive (to say the least).  Homo Sapiens—its powerful brain focused on survival—controlled the apex by wiping out other species, expanding into every habitat and altering its environment rather than adapting to it.  Tomorrow we will all have to re-assess survival in terms of sharing vanishing resources and removing the poisons from our air and water.  Today, however, we can still get along as we have been for hundreds of millennia.  —  extrapolation from Evgeny Abramyan's, How to Save the Future? a view from Russia


This alphabetical autopsy was created in homage to John F. Ptak's: An Alpha-Vile Alphabet Autopsy of Lost Emotions, from his site Ptak Science Books.

Snow - Portland

Make a Flake

relevant heART science

Scientific Chick provided the six-image heart X-ray used to create this digital rendering.  Thank you, Julie.

This is where I was AT thirty years ago

If one can have a favorite song for almost one's whole life . . . this is mine.

You might also like to know:

This is where I was at fifteen (sixteen, now) years ago

This is where I was at ten (eleven, now) years ago

This is where I was at ten (twelve, now) years ago 

NASA's Stardust-NExT meets Comet Tempel 1

Words You Remember

“Never work for someone who’ll pay you to stay home and cut fish.”

          Said my 1984 mentor Master Sergeant Karp.  One reason I remembered these words was his name.  Another, his mutilation of the fish or cut bait adage, which I knew—after ten weeks of hating real Infantry shit on the Korean DMZ together—was intentional.  He always strove for subtle-funny and probably thought cut bait hit the ear too close to its intended target.  But, irony was the biggest reason I remember his words.  MSG Karp—in his 27th year of service—was advising that if I reenlisted, I should retire as soon as pension-eligible.

          I’d matured enough by the age of 25 to realize I was at one of life’s fulcrum points.  Get out, and return to hometown-Indiana to a disdainful wife, financially worse-off than the day I enlisted...or re-up for the MP Corps and get some income, training, and a divorce.

          I picked the serially-monogamous military life, and (following his advice) stopped fishing on the day they offered to pay me to sit home and masturbate.

“Get on.  Stop bothering us.  Goddamn little shit!”

          I was six.  Second grade.  Recess.  Running away from a horde of three girls who were making screeching giggle noises after me with a threat of kisses.  Out of breath, fearing seven-year old classmate cooties as seriously as I’d ever feared anything, I sought refuge near the playground monitors.  My teacher, Mrs Creane, and my teacher from the previous year, Mrs Devlin, were standing in a patch of morning sun, near the center of the cracked pavement, smoking cigarettes.  I plead for them to intercede on my behalf.  Mrs Devil said the words.  Mrs Crayon chuckled and waived me away.

          To be fair, she said the third sentence in a lower tone than the louder first two and she wasn’t looking at me when she said it.  To my adult sensibility, this does differ from staring and saying, stop bothering us you goddamn little shit.  That nuance was completely lost on the little tadpole running away from kisses.  Instead, a revered teacher was the first person to cuss me out, and I was shattered to tears.  The gigglers caught up to me as I walked into the shade of the building, failed to get their desired reaction, and left me alone.  At six (Santa, Easter bunny, and the Tooth Fairy now in jeopardy) I came to the harsh realization that adults were no longer sacrosanct.

“Cheese.  Regular cheese.  Yellow.  You know, American.”

          The words of a good friend of mine—Mike—were said to a Sydney, Australia, Hard Rock Café waitress, in response to her, ‘what kind would you like on that?’  His reply came after a brief pause and confused scowl.  She listed four or five choices and ended with... “there’s no such thing as American cheese.”  His incredulous, “of course there is.”  Caused me to interject, “He’ll have cheddar,” and then explain to my becoming-less-Xenophobic friend about the reality of flavored oil, known in his world as processed cheese food.

“It’s kæ-mul, not car-mal.  Carmal’s a girl’s name...bloody American!”

          Same vacation down under.  Said by a middle-aged woman standing in line behind me in an ice cream shop.  Her haughty, I’m an expert, what’s-the-world-coming-to mix of humor and disdain (specific to people with a Queen on their money) was barked at me after I asked the clerk for some caramel sauce.

          She was probably not an all-the-time cunt.  I suspect certain Australians in that tourist-laden northeast coastal city of Cairns—who pronounce their city’s name just like the rest of the world pronounces the film-festival-famous Mediterranean French city of Cannes (except the French of course, who don't pronounce the S)—have a mispronunciation sore spot.  I could've been the eighteenth dumb-feckin-shatter that day to flagrantly pronounce a silent R, forcing otherwise quiet Sheila to snap. 

          Now I live in Oregon.  When I hear people say Or-a-gone instead of Or-a-gun (which is the locally preferred way), I never get even the slightest impulse to point out their verbal faux pas.  Would I have that same insight if I was never corrected by a cunt from Cairns?

          The impetus of this post was Mary Whitsell at Resident Alien's post: Words You Remember.  Although there are times I hear things I never forget, there are other times I read things which cause me to write.  Thanks Mary.

2011's rainy days - 6 games, 7 books, 7 films

Games:  Stacking, I Am Alive, LA Noire, Portal 2, From Dust, Agent
Books:  Dark Command, Judging Eye, Wise Mans Fear, Ancestor, Terminal State, The Weight, Best European Fiction 2011
Films:  Rango, I Am Number Four, Adjustment Bureau, Battle: Los Angeles, Sucker Punch, Cowboys vs Aliens, Green Lantern

How does one plan for the inevitable need to while away at least 500 indoor hours of the coming year, on those days when the battleship-grey weather shiver-whispers:  Even a barely functioning moron would never golf or hike with his cat on a day like today....By spending about $500, that's how.

How Many Chicken-Little Wridiots Crying Wolf Does It Take?

          I watch Discovery Channel.  So, I was one of the many-millions who learned (a few years ago) that scientists had discovered the Earth routinely has a magnetic pole reversal.  Sorry, I don't remember off-hand how often they reversed in the days of dinosaurs-past, but I do recall a geologist explaining about ancient lavarocks being flow-born and the iron inside them aligning when they cooled with the then-strongest pole (which may not have been a pole at the time).  The geologist went on to relate that the earth's current magnetic reversal was long-overdue by a few thousand years.

          Which is very similar to what a vulcanologist said on the History Channel (also a few years ago).  He was explaining about the caldera under Yellowstone National Park.  According to his calculations, it erupts pretty regularly and is also overdue by thousands of years.

          We the contemplative, the superstitious, the nearly hairless, bipedal, opposable thumbed apes...oh how we love to hear about all things imminent.  Anything.  Even if it isn't cataclysmic; if it's huge and impending, we can't get enough of it.

          Of course, everyone has already heard their fill of all the ologists-of-one-stripe-or-another regarding global warming.  It may be world-wide.  It may even qualify as a cataclysm.  But global warming is only going to result in a slow and gradual rising of temperatures and sea levels.  We're already bored with the eventual centuries-long creep of Venice, California and (hopefully) Los Angeles turning into Venice, Italy...we need to hear about imminent disaster!

          Why?

          Because we're all aware of our own mortality.  We're reminded of it daily (hourly?).  So, the notion that life might-possibly come to an end for all the douchebag-lickers on the planet—instead of just non-d-lickin me—that's supremely comforting in a everyone-else-is-an-idiot-and-they-don't-deserve-what-I-don't-have kinda way. 

          With all the reports of birds dropping out of the mid-western skies, a die-off of bats in the north, the frogs are disappearing all over the world, honey Bees, ditto...all over the United States.  So goes the coral reefs.  So goes.  So goes.  Just click any organism death and you'll learn an ologist's sad description of something else which is guaranteed to be gone by tomorrow or the next day.

          Why hasn't anyone put all these deaths together into one big scheme?

          Oh they have.  It's 2012 (in 2013 they'll say, 'hey we added the calendars together wrong, so now it's...').  It's global warming.  It's the magnetic reversal.  But, we all know chickenlittle is full of big-bunky-bullshit.  There isn't one single terrible cause.  Well...except...humans.  And most of us refuse to claim ownership of that cloak of shame because once we accept responsibility, then what...fix it?  Fucqdat...we say.  (Our usual name for things which aren't our monkey to pet.)

          Could the die-offs be just a matter of nature doing it's thing?  Could the only difference between the current deaths and the gazillion-trillions which have happened throughout history be:  today we have a full bowl of ologists paying very close attention with mini-visual technology, data-crunching with powerful hand-held technology, and incessantly reporting with world wide technology?  Oh hell, THAT certainly won't get much coverage.

          Today's fauxpocalypse-du jour is the alleged one-final-blow and collective bigboy cum overall-reason for last year's storms in England, this year's Australian cyclones, and America's most recent superstorm blizzard.  And they're going to get more powerful and more frequent, says Terrance Aym (a chicken little-esque, internet-equivalent-of-a-National-Enquirer-writer-idiot, or wridiot...who gets his kicks crying wolf).  My first hint that he drew his conclusions from a tool-bag of lies?  He tailored this story for his audience, pointing only at storms in English-speaking countries, many of which were much less damaging than those occurring during the same time-frame in non-English-reading countries.

          Aym is a blatant and intentional distorter of facts.  Couched comfortably in the solid science of others, Aym decries the unavoidable and ever-worsening future superstorms which he claims are, and will be, caused by the measurable shift in the magnetic north pole combined with the complete cessation of the earth's wobble.  Written by a crowded-theater-fire!-shouter, Terrance Aym's article is nothing more than the fabricated blathering of a smooth-talker with a penchant for driving custom-made bandwagons that he cobbles together (from raw materials provided by others) and then gets others to jump on.  What a giggle the fictionalizers-of-non-fiction—like Terrance Aym—must get when someone foolishly references them as an authority.

          The truth is broken and twisted in all of Aym's "articles".  In this one (which he hot-linked to dead-ends and pay-sites in order to dissuade fact-checkers) the truth is simple:  The earth's magnetic pole is shifting as it has for billions of years, and its slight wobble—only measured for a century—paused for a brief period in the middle of the last decade.  Neither of these geologic occurrences are anomalies.  And, neither have any effect on the earth's climate or weather.

          However...pumping carbon into the air (as we've done, are doing, and will continue to do) is definitely changing the weather.  A fact Terrance Aym doesn't write about.  It's not imminent enough.  Not cataclysmic.  And not the fauxpocalypse he loves to predict.        

          Read any of Terrance Aym's short stories posing as non-fiction articles, and you'll quickly know who he is.  He's the greasy bottle-dude on the corner with the cardboard sign, ripped vocal chords, and brain stuck on its rambling-confusion channel.  He's a hack-writer mixing the paranoia of others with his own brand of deceit and conspiracy.  No different than a fabricator of computer viruses, Aym uses legitimate information to plant his insidious data onto Squire, which he hopes will worm into your brain, your conversations, and your beliefs.  When Glen Beck looks up 'whackjob' in the dictionary—he reads about Terrance Aym.

Not Many Best Films - 2010

          On Groundhog Day I received this comment-question in a film-related article I posted near the end of 2009:

Hey there :)

What was the best and worst film of last year in your oppinion?
For me it might have to be:
Very best: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 1
Worst: A Nightmare on Elm Street

Thanks a lot :) <3

          Well...hey back in your brain-addled and anonymous direction.

          Your unfamiliarity with spealcheque, date/time stamps, and your emoticon abuse/misuse (colon end-paren less than three is...happy dick-n-balls) causes me to assume you're a 4th grader playing on mummy's computer and bored with Myspace?  But, here's the thing, (I thought for a long three seconds to come up with an analogy you could relate to) when it comes to film opponion I'm like Eric Cartman when someone starts Come Sail Away.

          Consequently...even though last year was a dreadful year in American film...I will finish what you've begun:  2010 started with me keeping track of every film I watched, but I quit that foolishness in April because I'd yet to see one newly-released American-film worth recommending.

          My favorite-best film of last year was the amazing mystery-thriller Mother, which was released in the US in 2010 (so, technically, it qualifies as a last-year film even though it was released in South Korea in 2009).

          The vast majority of 2010 films were average-to-unmemorable dreck.  I didn't see either of the movies you mentioned, anonymous-commenter, so I can't provide you with my oppioidin on them.  I can, however, explain why I chose not to see them.

          I'll probably watch the first-half of the last Potter film, just before I watch the second-half...maybe sometime this year.  Stephen King fleeced his avid-reader's with six mini-books released monthly in the mid 90's, which I realize was before you were born, Anon-commenter, but—nonetheless—they (The Green Mile series) were an early example of a financially-successful-yet-scummy way to make more money than would otherwise be possible.  I felt almost the same way when Quentin Tarantino released Kill Bill in two parts (wouldn't a four-hour film with an intermission have been fantastic?)

          As for the remake of Nightmare:  I doubt you're aware of too very many things that occurred before your mom was born, Anon, but that movie was originally released in 1984 (to make it easier:  that's just after the Vietnam War and just before Nine-Eleven).  When your grandparents watched the first Freddy Kruger slasher flick on their parent's Betamax, they definitely were scared but, also, they were aware it was not a very good film.  So...it should not come as a surprise that the re-brand re-remake turned out bad.  (This is not to say every re-branded re-made film is like re-heating decade-old noodles; this year's True Grit was definitely worth seeing.)

          There were so many worst films of 2010.  So very many.  I successfully avoided watching most of them by paying attention to their metric and choosing to only see those films with a score higher than 60.  This is not a very good way of deciding, because...

          I posit that the worst film of 2010 was: 127 Hours.   It was a let down.  Mediocre.  It became suckage because I enjoy films by Danny Boyle and my hopes were so high.  Slumdog Millionaire, 28 Days Later, Millions, Trainspotting...how could the director of such good-to-greatness make something so empty and flat?  127 Hours was shit because it had the potential to be fantastic but really was average-to-forgettable.  I'm amazed so many people like it (its metric is in the low-80's ferfucksake).  I'm very surprised it was nominated for awards.  It will win some because it has little competition; it's one of the best turds in the 2010 septic tank.  In my pinionop, a much better film (and best trapped-man performance of 2010) is Buried with Ryan Reynolds.  But, because Buried was filmed by a almost unknown Spanish director, in Spain, it gets less attention (even though it's in English).  ...way, come sail away with me...

Individual vs Society (HR 3962)

          Although I don’t think everything can be divided into two camps I do think there are a finite number of greys.  Democrats want to improve society and Republicans want to improve the individual, is a statement both camps are comfortable with.

          Acceptance of this adage is due to combining desired improvement with words (society, individual) which present differing meanings to different people.

          Republicans think positively about individual; to them, an individual is:  a leader, a stalwart, a trail-blazer or a commander.  In the mind’s-eye of a Republican, an individual is always self-sufficient.  On the other hand, Democrats have difficulty detaching the silent and invisible adjective selfish which always seems to precede individual in their mind's-eye.

          Not so with society.  Democrats hear society and think about the large group they’re part of, which includes many who are less fortunate than they are.  Republicans hear society and see the slothful looking for hand-outs, welfare abusers, and human parasites.

          During a recent lengthy discussion with my sister (economic-free market-pessimist / social-conservative / professional-successful businesswoman) she used the term Obama care.  So, I asked her why she was against 2009's health care bill.  She mistook my question as a statement of protest, and I needed to repeat myself a few times before my clarification “just because I voted for him doesn’t mean I support everything he does,” got heard.

          I didn’t know much about the health care bill before today (and still don't know much).  I knew it was almost 2,000 pages big and was supposed to improve health care in the US (there's that word again improve, now it’s appended to health care...which hits the mind’s-eye just like society, and not like individual.)

          Since my sister is an adjunct to the medical, legal, and insurance professions I thought she'd have a rational, fact-based, explanation for dismissing it.  She does not.  Instead, she fell into an all too familiar rant-rut:  government...bad...social security...fail... Medicaid...broken...goes without saying...blah...new health care...ditto.

          I assumed she’s too close to the issue (the forest-from-the-trees analogy) but she says she sees the issue better than most because of her perspective, which is why she is amazingly confident in her ability to forecast the future failure of the 2009 heath care bill, which gradually becomes law over the next four years.

          So I found it and skimmed it.  Bill HR 3962.  It delineates (repetitively and in legal jargon) the new law, while it also updates previous laws, describes new responsibilities, outlines oversight, enrollment, and fines, as well as updates the Native American health care laws, and revises some Medicaid laws.

          In a nutshell, all US taxpayers (with exceptions) will be required, by 2014, to purchase health insurance or pay healthcare bills with cash.  No more county clinic walk-ins claiming 'too poor to pay'; failure to do so will mean facing an annual fine (like a tax) which will be assessed by the IRS.

          I have not paid much attention to this bill because I (retired military) and my fiancée (Native American) are two exceptions.  Reading portions of the bill did not clarify, for me, why it's expected to reduce health care costs, although I do see how it'll improve coverages and close loop holes.   I don’t know why my sister says it's all total bullshit.  I suspect, though, that in the next few years there will be a dramatic increase in US taxpayers joining the Christian Science Church because, after 2014, the IRS can't fine you for refusing to own health insurance if you are a member of The First Church of Christ, Scientist.  Which begs the question:  Are we sure we want the separation of church and state to be negated by an organization that advocates the creation of zombies on their registered logo?

Quadrantid Meteor Shower Tonight

The shower could peak at almost a meteor-every-30-seconds before 10pm PST (1am EST).

I read in 2010:

Only one more book than last year (48 this year); my tastes and favorites (larger) gravitated in-and-around the Fantasy genre this year.

2010 Charted

Compared to last year - golfing supplanted hiking, vacations (including scuba) and camping trips resumed this year, creativity suffered, and house-stuff (cleaning, driving, food prep, etc) was done more by my wonderful fiancée and, therefore, less by me.

Solstice Lunar Eclipse Tomorrow Night (North America)

The Dream of the 90s is Alive in Portland

Oh yes it is so alive. Here. That's where. (sleep 'til eleven.) New IFC series airs in a month. I intend to giggle at people like myself (and my homeboyzngirlz).

Zodiac Shit

Don't Know Why - Yes I Do

and really you know like

An I’d hoped to come visiting again sooner.  And you—of all people—know how they get.  And, well, I just can’t borrow a horse to go gallivanting whenever I desire.

I intended to write you, really.  But my folks really keep tabs on their stamps and I really hardly ever get any privacy.   Really.

I’z gonna, you know, call.  But my parents were—yaknow—home an-all, you know.  An I still ain’t got a phone in my room yet ya know.

I was like gonna text, but, like my parents were all—like—‘too many minutes’ and like took away my cell.  So, I was like, whatever.

armistice day

On the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month we remember the end of a war, veterans who served, soldiers who still serve and, essomenically, the little children yet-to-be who'll serve and die (or live to remember) their defense of our country or their acts of aggression against citizens of other countries, in all-the-many future American wars, insurrections, police actions, peace-keeping missions, and acts of imperialism—legitimate and illegitimate (the wars that-is, not the children; nobody calls children illegitimate anymore...we're all bastards, we Americans who begin a new conflict, on average, every five years).

treat

2nd monthly metaphor

monthly metaphor

tired of all the negative shit

anger avalanche

          In 1983, I received orders.  I was to be stationed the entire next year in Korea, separated from my wife and infant son.  We decided to find an apartment for the two of them, where she could work during my year overseas.  Fortuitously (I thought when I learned of it) my step-father and mother were planning a two-week vacation without my 15 year-old half-sister (because she'd be in school).  I asked my mother if my immediate family could stay in the guest room during their vacation, in order to apartment hunt (I assumed my parents would welcome an adult and car for errands and emergencies).  

          "No," I was told. "Your sister has been promised unsupervised-use of the house.  Her boyfriend has a car."

          Wow.  Unexpected financial stress (paying for a motel in my hometown while four bedrooms sit empty in my family's house) combined with parental favoritism (always visible, rarely this overt) and jealousy (rarely an unsupervised hour when I was in high school...but she's permitted a fortnight) became anger.  Sticky anger.

          Over the next several years I didn't reply to the handful of letters sent by my mother or step-father—all I recall of them were that they ruminated on my lack of religion and never contained an apology.  During those years I divorced my first wife, my sons were adopted by her second husband, I married a Korean woman, and completed a few more overseas and stateside tours.  Eventually, I wrote my mother and step-father and asked to visit and introduce my wife.

          Using racist verbiage, the gist of my mother's answer:  'You are welcome.  She is not'.

          Which cased my anger to avalanche.

          Many years later, after realizing my mother's bigotry only explained the last few years of our estrangement, I chuckled over the memory of that long-forgotten sticky anger and pondered how those years may have been different if I hadn't stopped communicating with them.

          Had I only been angry because my immediate family members were never welcome in my parents home, or did I hold my anger because my mother and step-father never apologized...would one have occurred without the other?  If I'd never expressed anger and, therefore, never expected apologies, would those decades have been estrangement-less?

          Is the party who causes someone else to be angry always responsible for an apology?  Is someone else getting angry at you sufficient reason to be angry back?  If so, who should apologize first?  How do insincere apologies fit-in here?  Does just blurting the word 'sorry' (like a bed-wetting preschooler) ever suffice for anything more serious than accidentally stepping on someone's toes?  If not (most have a keen eye for hollow apologies) how does one clearly and concisely communicate one's contrition?       

          Over the decades I've come to realize that, for my mother, it's always others who are unreasonable and always those same others who express unwarranted anger—while she never has reason for apologies.

          Which has taught me I'm not so much my mother's son—I can, and do, say I'm sorry.

*Updated/re-posted Feb 2020

To sorrow I bade good-morrow, and thought to leave her far away behind; but cheerily, cheerily, she loves me dearly...she is so constant to me, and so kind. — John Keats

cept x cit

The excellency of every art is its intensity, capable of making all disagreeable evaporate. — John Keats

Must a bellydancer driving a pink truck be female?

          Julie from Scientific Chick wrote an essay (A Pink Truck is Still a Truck) attempting to explain (to non-science people, like me) some recently published research which, as she put it, 'left her with more questions than she started with.'  She cites a study by a couple of University of Cambridge researcher's, which attempts to explain that, while very young children have no gender-based color preferences, little boys prefer to look at images of trucks cars and little girls prefer to look at images of dolls.

         Although the researcher's published abstract initially states: "...Girls looked at dolls significantly more than boys did and boys looked at cars significantly more than girls did, irrespective of color ... These outcomes did not vary with age..." they later contradict themselves by saying, "...both boys and girls preferred dolls to cars at age 12-months...".

          Which is probably why Scientific Chick decided to simplify things when she wrote, "...The researchers found that boys preferred cars and girls preferred dolls.  No big surprise there ... "  I thank Julie for eliminating the confusion, and although facts were left on the cutting room floor, it seems the researchers themselves drew first blood on those facts.

          But—more important—Julie's larger unanswered question:  Why do we buy pink for girls and blue for boys?

            A few years ago, Cecil Adam's The Straight Dope answered the question:  Was Pink Originally the Color for Boys and Blue for Girls?   Cecil answered in the affirmative, with "some thought so" and a "century ago some old magazine printed it," but his lengthy explanation still splashed solidly into the vague non-answer range of:  "Nobody really knows (where blue-for-boys and pink-for-girls comes from)".

          I propose the reason was—and still is—homophobia.  The pink-blue "switch" occurred following WWII when the Nazi's required homosexuals to wear a pink triangle sewn or pinned to their clothing. 

          I recall old pictures and paintings of children who (as detailed by the above Straight Dope answer) all wore white dresses.  Rare for The Straight Dope, they included a rhetorical question in the middle of their pink-or-blue article:

Why no attempt to discriminate further? ... Perhaps mothers decking out their little boys in dresses thought: They’ll get to be manly soon enough.

          There.  Right there.  Passive aggressive homophobia, written large in 2008, by Cecil Adams.  Unusual for The Straight Dope (unless...it's both a font of arcane trivia and, literally, staffed by straight dopes).

          Since I'm pointing out the prejudice and factlessness of others, I'll give-a-go at including some truthiness:  With zippers (1930), snaps (1885), and velcro (1955) decades or centuries away, can anyone use deductive reasoning to explain why mothers of yesteryear clothed their infants and toddlers in dresses and skirts regardless of gender?  If you are stumped because deductive reasoning is predominantly outsourced to some form of Wiki, consider the diaper and toilet-training in the button-n-pin era...without stretchy cloth or rubber pants or indoor plumbing.  If it was me, my entire brood of little shatters would have been restricted to the lawn from dawn to dusk; bare bottomed year-round, barefoot with skirts in the summer, leather footwear under long dresses in the snow.

          The researcher's concluded (and Julie summarized that conclusion in layman's terms) that they, "could not draw any conclusions on whether this behavior was learned or innate".

          This discourages me in an abject, why-am-I-not-surprised, kinda way.  And not just because their published results clearly suggests—at least to this layman—that the behavior of looking longer at cars (boys over 12 months) and at dolls (all girls) is learned.  Because when every year old infant prefers to look at dolls and then most of the boys between 18 to 24-months old changed their preference and looked longer at cars...that quacks and walks like a learned behavior duck.

          But the biggest reason I'm discouraged by all this, is because real doing-science researchers couldn't find a group of children, in the entire world, who hadn't already been gender-role tainted.  Because...there are no 12-24 month old children who've not already watched television or played with plastic never-important-toys?  No Nigerian or Brazilian or Alaskan or Native American or Aboriginal group—anywhere—which hadn't already tainted every one of their toddlers with Tonka-Barbie (I originally included "Amish", in this off-the-cuff list but deleted it during proofreading because 'homophobic Amish' is redundantly redundant.  Amish fathers probably spank their six-month old sons when they look at a broom).  Nor, most surprisingly, could these researchers locate any alt-lifestyle-neohippy-Americans who've intentionally raised their young progeny without exposure to TV, gender specific toys, or commercialized society.

          Oh and the A to my titular Q:  No, he could have once been a toddler who's preference for images of dolls, over cars, never flagged.  (I include this because, even I have gender role prejudices.)

Failure is, in a sense, the highway to success, inasmuch as every discovery of what is false leads us to seek earnestly after what is true, and every fresh experience points out some form of error which we shall afterward carefully avoid. —  John Keats

if ya can't get a kylie minogue outta yer head

Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard are sweeter.  Therefore, ye soft pipes, play on; not to the sensual ear, but—more endeared—pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone.  —  John Keats

DIVE · TASK · STICK

          I have created a recreational diver’s multi-tool and will custom build one, for you, for approximately $200 - $220 US**.  If you are interested in purchasing a dive·task·stick, e-mail veachglines@gmail.com.

          This waterproof tool enables scuba divers to communicate with—and point out items of interest to—dive partners.

          The middle portion contains pellets which (when shaken) act as a signaling device.  One end has a waterproof laser pointer, operated by spring-button, and powerful enough to see in clear, shallow, bright-daylight dives or even snorkeling.  The other end has a wide angle (43 degree) waterproof flashlight (torch) to improve visibility during daytime dives, (looking under ledges, diving on cloudy days, seeing the "true color" of deep marine life, etc.)—and powerful enough to be used as your primary light source on night dives.  The dive·task·stick has a no-slip rubber cover in the middle with a sliding wrist lanyard.

          Obviously, these items could be purchased separately and kept in a pocket of your BCD.  In my diving experience, however, items in your pocket are rarely used.

          The dive·task·stick is constructed from:

          · Wide-beam LED flashlight by Intova (10 hr burn time)

         · Green laser pointer by Beam of Light Technologies

         · Custom made aluminum tube “Shaker style” signaling device

         · Wrist lanyard and rubber cover

         · Three CR123 lithium batteries

         · 57.2 cm × 2.5 to 3.6 cm × .90 kg  (22.5 in × 1 to 1.4 in × 2.0 lbs)

         · Safe to a depth of 40 meters (130 feet)*

         NOTE:  This dive·task·stick is not a "touch-tool;" the glass end-lenses would be scratched and damaged if this pointer were misused to brace against underwater objects or touch marine life. 

*  Although the laser company attests it will survive above depths of 200 feet (61 meters) and the flashlight company attests it will survive above depths of 400 feet (122 meters), I can not attest to the dive task stick surviving below the recreational diving maximum depth.

** This price depends on retail purchase prices (with shipping) of three items as well as the cost of shipping the insured tool to you.  As of August 2010—the laser was $88; the flashlight was $47; the center pipe, pellets, rubber cover, epoxy, and labor were $45; I profit $20; and shipping varies.

          Happiness consists more in small conveniences or pleasures that occur every day, than in great pieces of good fortune that happen but seldom. — Benjamin Franklin

Wondering what to do with ten dollars?

Give it to the director and cast of Scott Pilgrim vs. The World.

If you enjoyed last year's comedy Zombieland, you will be more entertained by this film.  You don't have to like Michael Cera (I never need to act because I play my expressionless self just fine.)—he holds the center of a typhoon of actors who keep all the hilarity swirling around him.

You also don't have to prefer Edgar Wright.  This is funnier, tighter, and more over-the-top than all the movies he has previously directed, combined.

Never leave that till tomorrow which you can do today. — Benjamin Franklin

Accumulonimbus

Originality is the art of concealing your sources. — Benjamin Franklin

Progress, as predicted

          I believe that as California goes, so—eventually—will the country.  Twenty-one months ago, I wrote an essay decrying the bigotry of our age and pointing out the need for: 

...California...Judges...to do, after the fact, what the mentally infirm majority of Californian voters were incapable of doing: enforce equality under the law...

          California's Proposition 8 law banning same-sex marriage has been repealed.  Continued appeals by both religious bigots as well as generic non-religious haters will be made to higher courts, and in a year or two the US Supreme Court will (hopefully) enforce equality under the law for the entire United States.

          But think how great a proportion of mankind consists of weak and ignorant men and women...who have need of the motives of religion. ... If men are so wicked as we now see them with religion, what would they be if without it? — Benjamin Franklin

jury duty

A countryman between two lawyers is like a fish between two cats. — Benjamin Franklin

I know you are, but what am I?

          While eating at the very best German Restaurant in Portland, we asked the waitress about a large bag of water hanging eye-level over a window box of flowers just outside the front entrance. 

          Tart words make no friends; a spoonful of honey will catch more flies than a gallon of vinegar.  —  Benjamin Franklin