s n a p p e r h e a d

Winterfall

Find
Where you best - are comfortable at rest
Near the space where the muscles under your face
Unwind, then
Seek the spot when
Your attentive mind - feels evermost kind
Unfocused on the locus while at the same time
Reach, for a
Resolve to abhor
Never to soar - or - teach yourself to become more
Cognizant of whatever you're always most-never
Aware, yet
Don't devolve
Or forget - that every contestant we've never once met
Dies before they consider themselves wise
Careful, there
It's slippery
(You have time - I know, you know there's no finish line.)

- Winterfall by Veach Glines

Thanks Fellow Veteran

Instead of the bland, ubiquitous, cringe-inducing 'thank you for your service' - try asking a question. And, because I think humorous questions are better than serious ones, try these:

Was it an adventure or was it just a job?
What was it like to be more than you could be?
Was it fun doing more before 9 am than others do all day?
Do people expect a you're welcome when they thank you for your service?

Before Looking for an Apartment in Vermont

Thinking about moving to Vermont?

Almost all landlords are members of the Vermont Landlords Association (VLA), which behaves like a guild/insurance company.
The VLA has a policy-guideline: no more than 30% of a renter's income should be spent on housing (rent combined with all utilities and 'housing fees').
Member-landlords treat this as law and ask all prospective tenants to provide proof of income.
Acceptable documents include recent pay-stub or employer-letter.
Landlords will refuse to lease to tenants who's income would cause the tenant to pay more than 30% on housing.
The VLA supports its member-landlords with legal assistance and can provide monetary assistance if any tenant behavior results in a financial loss to a member-landlord.
The VLA may refuse to assist a member-landlord if employment documents were not obtained or if those documents reflect insufficient income.

Important statistics:

Vermont Minimum wage (as of 1 Jan 2020) is $10.96, which computes (for a full-time employee) to about $1,900 a month before taxes.
Assume double-occupancy (every minimum-wage worker must have a roommate in Vermont) and 1,900 x 2 = $3,800.
30% of $3,800 is $1,140.
$250 monthly utilities (1 BR Apt) $60 electricity; $150 (average) heat; $40 garbage.
$1,140 minus $250 is $890.
$890 is the maximum rent a landlord can expect two minimum wage workers to afford.
In and around the metro-Burlington area (where more than 50% of the state population resides), average 1BR rents are $1,300 (+/- $300) albeit many complexes offer units with all or most utilities included in the rent.
To be permitted to afford $1,300 a month, in rent and utilities, the household must be able to prove they have an annual income of $52,000.

None of this is a government regulation/law; merely a guideline, informally enforced by VLA member-landlords. The results:

Throughout the state, housing turn-over (across all levels and types) is extremely low (and not just in the winter). The reason? The minimum wage increased 18 cents per hour from last year; which is $30 a month. Nobody can move if their rent has increased more than their wages.

There is a constant need for temporary, seasonal, minimum-wage workers (50-60% of businesses have help wanted signs). The reason? Nobody can move to a state with almost the highest rates of taxation in the country and middling wages, if there is an unregulated "informal gatekeeper" dictating: every household must have over $50K to move here.

The fix is simple:

Vermont legislature: Make it illegal for businesses and landlords to request a person's income.

other very-vermont things worth noting:

Lazy Witch Coffin Windows

Good Day to Be a Crow (hunting regulation)

Before Driving Your Smart Car to Vermont

          A few days ago, I decided to go trail walking among the falling and yet-to-fall autumn leaves. At the trailhead, I noticed a list of Vermont's Hunting and Trapping Dates. Although I hadn't heard any gunshots, I realized that was probably the last thought JFK, MLK, and Theo Van Gogh all had (although Theo had enough time for a follow-up think: "nobody kills the village idiot," since his assassin only shot him off his bicycle and, then, dispatched him with a knife).

As I got out my reading glasses, I looked down at myself (wearing exclusively subdued colors except for a splash of color on my hat) and read that bow season was already open for deer, and black bear season had been open for more than six weeks. Which caused me to feel both stupid-lucky and stupid-foolish at the same time – I'd walked in different wooded areas every one of those past weeks not wearing bright colors but with bear spray on my hip.

          Driving away, I considered what the odds were of being killed by a human compared to being killed by a black bear (and decided it was statistically more probable to be murdered, by at-least a factor of 100). Then I wondered at the increased odds of being "accidentally shot" by a drunk, stoned, Vermont hunter, during bear hunting season, while wearing a black sweater (and decided it was smart I chose not hiking to Preston Lake that day).

One line on the list of hunting season dates stuck and wouldn't let go of my shadow:

          Crow   JAN 18 thru APR 8 and AUG 19 thru DEC 16: Open FRI – MON Only; Closed TUE – THR

          It seems that it is illegal to hunt crows mid-week in this state. What logic-based data (presumably, closed hunting dates are decided on nesting dates) would support only hunting four days a week?

Crows – which the government stupidly uses as a category-name for all Corvids – learn from past experiences, pass information along to their young, and (reportedly) are scared away from an area by shooting at them or by using a crow-based scarecrow.

The federal government regulates an annual maximum number of days in which every state is permitted to allow the hunting of migratory birds. Vermont Dept of Fish and Wildlife disagrees with the categorization of crows as migratory (considers them a nuisance) and closes "crow season" every mid-week so as to appear to adhere to the letter of the federal regulation.

other Vermont to-see's:

Preston Pond, Bolton

Swanton

Westford

East Middlebury

Waterbury

St Albans City, Town, Bay

Lyndon Center

An Amazon God Has Spoken

As someone who owns TACKLIFE Propane Fire Pit... can you help this fellow customer?

Q: What is the difference between bo7lg5kdnk for 179 and the bo7lg5q78q for 189?

A: Ahhh young padawan, it is illogical to ask the amazon gods about the algorithm which determines why one ASIN costs ten dollars more than another. That is a question better answered by camelcamelcamel. (An Amazon God Has Spoken)

Q: After watching the installation video, i realized that i did not plug in the wire to the auto starter. once i plug in the wire, it worked.

A: How did you find out how to make it turn on without using any of your own brain cells? For 200. (An Amazon God Has Spoken)

Q: Can we put this on the outskirts of our garage so we can have some cover?

A: Based on your vague description (the word "outskirts" and "some cover" are not helpful in specifically knowing your plans, but are helpful in that I think you already know the idea is wrong-headed). I picture you and your elderly husband placing this large propane fire just inside your open garage door and saying that 'the amazon gods said it would be ok'. If you do this, you could fail to get sufficient ventilation from the open door that the carbon monoxide kills you before you get a chance to see the plastic portions of your siding melt and the paint catch on fire from the heat. I put this in the middle of my back yard and could see the heat moving leaves on a branch twenty-five feet above - I recommend you watch the video 'dumb ways to die' for more things you should not do. You are welcome (An Amazon God Has Spoken).

Don't Act Like a Nail and Complain About Hammers

When caring and cognizant parents recognize a dysfunction in their child, they seek advice from a health care professional. No matter how immature it is, that child’s mind already began to form a coping mechanism, projecting: ‘this is how you-I-we function, you are normal, I am right, we aren’t impaired, they are all wrong’.

Children become adults. The coping mechanisms (of those without caring and cognizant parents) have denied their dysfunction for so long that—in most cases—the dysfunctional adult is no longer able to recognize when they are “unable to get out of their own way.” And, when others point out their disordered thoughts or actions, their coping mechanism takes over: better to change jobs, break-up with partners, cut off family members, and then blame them for the change/break-up/cut off.

Narcissists, sociopaths, and psychopaths are rarely clinically diagnosed; most never have significant enough life-impairment to admit they need assistance from a mental health professional. People with un-diagnosed NPD appear to act like people with no mental disorders, unless one observes their behavior from a close perspective. (Because lying and manipulation as well as having no empathy and no remorse are behaviors only noticeable by people who are close to them. In simple terms: Friends and family are the only ones who care when friends and family are callous and/or uncaring.)

Almost every female in my family is/was a narcissist (it only seemed to skip-over Great Aunt Betty). Research has identified that female narcissists tend to raise female narcissists. Point out their lies, manipulations, lack of empathy, or refusal to apologize and they all—bar none—cut off communication for years or…for decades.

Or… for what is left of our respective time alive—(as I reaffirmed when I wrote to my sister to see if she was still a narcissist).

She referred to suing our step-father’s estate in the 90’s this way: “…I broke with the hypocritical narcissist and her progeny and have nothing to apologize for in my behavior.” Although an ironically contorted way to refer to our mother, half-sister and myself, she eventually re-re-re-terminated all our future communications using all the aplomb of a highly-practiced coping mechanism: “I do respect that you reached out, and these emails show how we both tried … I found this worthwhile, too, but I am not interested in taking this any further.”

After my friend died in 2018, my half-sister showed all four traits in quick sequence. I wrote her a detailed letter (mailed in an envelope) and explained how her detrimental narcissistic actions on the phone, in texts, and in emails were affecting me. I said I’d remain open to future communications regarding her un-diagnosed NPD in the form of envelope-letters, because they require (and show) time and effort. She replied in an email: “…I will send via email, since I truly send so few things via post” and—after nothing but (unopened) links and curt texts for about ten months—sent this text: “thinking you’ve made it to Vermont … a new address to send letters?”

Narcissists. Do. Not. Give. One. Shit. About. Anyone. But. Themselves. They also do not keep track of the lies or excuses they use to manipulate (but will quickly claim you're attempting to manipulate them if you quote them). Their coping mechanism will not permit them to be open and honest with themselves, most of the time, so forget about open-honest words coming out of their mouth. They also choose not to see their own behavior thru the eyes of other people—and choose not to picture themselves in other people’s shoes.

My half-sister was unaware of the irony in sending: ‘I will send via email’ in an email; unable to imagine her words ‘to send letters’ would remind me of her excuse: ‘I truly send so few things via post’; and—when forwarding memes (like this)—she is oblivious it shows her coping mechanism at work: using Hallmark-words is efficient, sufficient, and hides that you/I/we are deficient (when we use our own words).

related essay-articles:

empathy and conscientiousness in-detail

this title's origin and other Maslow ideas

Stories of My Demise - Amor Fati and Memento Mori

Recent essays about Bret and Carol reminded me of a couple of my favorite philosophical theories: Amor Fati (love fate) and Memento Mori (remember death). Both Latin phrases are related to the philosophy of The Stoics.

Memento Mori is something I incorporated into my thoughts long before learning that these unique ideas about death had been codified and given a name over two thousand years ago.

Although I understand the useful mental benefits that Amor Fati are supposed to provide, I find myself struggling with the practice of incorporating it into daily life.

In his last book, Ecco Homo, Nietzsche (considered an Existentialist by many - albeit, a label he would have shunned) coined the phrase Amor Fati, which I’ve paraphrased:

The formula for human greatness is to love fate — to want nothing (which has-happened in the past or will-happen in the future) to be any different than it was or will be. Do not just ‘bear with’ the necessary hardships in life, much less conceal them, but—instead—love them!

I can quasi-successfully get my brain around Nietzsche’s advice: belaboring our regrets is a dark hole we should be wary of; ‘lucky’ coins provide a single benefit (melt-value exceeds face-value); and, fearing what tomorrow has in store imbues worry but does not alter events. Therefore (sayeth Fred) ‘flaunt the hardships of life and cherish them, for they are necessary.’ But I say: The hard-knocks which fate has already dealt—or has yet to deliver—haven’t all been (and won’t all be) valuable teaching tools. I regret stepping in dogshit yesterday, dislike whomever chose not to bag it after their pet shit in my yard, and didn’t enjoy cleaning my shoe. But, I will remain open to suggestions on how Amor Fati is successfully practiced.

Pertaining to Memento Mori, the stoic philosopher, Aurelius wrote,

“Don't look down on death, but welcome it. It, too, is one of the things required by nature; like youth and old age, like growth and maturity, like a new set of teeth, a beard, the first gray hair, like sex and pregnancy and childbirth—this is how a thoughtful person should await death—not with indifference, not with impatience, not with disdain, but simply viewing it as one of the things that happens to us.”

After attending my maternal-grandfather’s funeral, I learned that Papa (1915-1977) had been planning on retiring, and collecting social security later that same year—only an unforeseen heart attack derailed his plans while he was sleeping. At his funeral, I re-heard the story of his father’s demise at the age of 57 (also, of an unforeseen heart attack) although Great-Papa was rowing a boat at the time of his death.

When I first began to talk about those two ancestors (Papa and Great-Papa) I’d synopsize their lives to underscore how they might have enjoyed the relaxation of a few “golden years” if they hadn’t chosen to blindly focus on, and plan for, the end of their employment years based on the one-size-fits-all, government retirement template.

In the middle of my 17^th year of military service—1999—I was (not partying like it was almost Y2K but, rather, was seriously) second-guessing my oft-stated plan to retire in three years. Fate reminded me. My father, Leverett, died of an unexpected heart attack. He was 60 and driving down a sunny mid-afternoon road. Needless to say, I stuck to my plan.

Bring up the subject death and I, invariably, get massive push-back. Everyone I’ve ever attempted to talk with—about death (theirs, mine, anyone’s) is really invested in the specious idea that it is unpredictable and mysterious and (most important) never imminent. I’m routinely scoffed at when I explain the primary reason I remained in the military for twenty years (and not 30) was because I did not want to follow in my ancestor’s footsteps (that of working up to the day of demise). “Oh Veach, you aren’t going to die anytime soon!” I constantly hear from naysayers, all-in-a-rush to change the subject.

My form of Memento Mori is slightly different from that of the Stoics. I agree that death is a normal part of life, but I also think it should be a topic of normal conversation. Bring it up with the kids. Talk about it over beers with a neighbor. It needs to be discussed because it needs to be de-fanged.

Americans avoid the subject of death and dying slightly more-often than they avoid talking about how much money they have (promulgated by a foolish, 1950-era, white, male, corporate-mindset based in privilege, greed, inequality and an unspoken ‘I got mine – you get yours’ doctrine) and ever-so-slightly less-often than they talk about what flavor of sex they enjoy (promulgated by a foolish, 450s-era, white, male, religious-mindset based in close-minded hypocrisy, fear, and an unspoken ‘I hide mine – you better hide yours’ doctrine).

To treat death as a taboo subject, imbues it with the power of mystery. It isn't mysterious. It may not be as predictable as the weather (remember when the weather was never predicted with any measurable accuracy?) but definite patterns can be identified. Actions can be taken to mitigate impending death. And, when the visage with the scythe does, eventually, come knocking (as it has for every living thing, ever) if you are someone who practiced Memento Mori and Amor Fati you will not be taken by surprise in your sleep, or in your car, or in your rowboat. You will be mentally prepared for the end of your life - as any rational person should be.

The First Rule of Philosophy Club is Don't Talk About . . .

I'm reticent to tell people, in normal conversation, that I've been studying and currently study philosophy. Even after years of researching different philosophical areas, I don't bring it up unless directly asked. When I consider talking spontaneously about what I've learned, I feel a pressure-twinge in the proximity of my brain near my conscience, which urges me toward an act of inaction, which — when translated into words — looks like something firmly wedged between modesty and humility.

Initiation into philosophy club began with reading some books written by some very-long-dead old wise men that had been translated, re-translated, and interpreted (and—surprisingly often—re-re-interpreted) by less-long-dead (or, occasionally, living) wise people. The translators and interpreters labeled themselves: Author — and labeled the men they translated and interpreted: Philosopher.

For me, one book led to another. One video to another. Repetition was important. Re-reading or re-listening became valuable. Reading a different author/interpreter discuss the same very-long-dead philosopher became most important. In the long run, all that really happened was I, eventually, gleaned a few insights about the universe; human life and death; society; politics; religions; the brain, consciousness, and the importance of human reasoning; time; logic; as well as how best to cope and how to decide how best to cope (which — simply put — is how to think about thinking and use that self-awareness to best advantage).

Realization that I was a member of philosophy club occurred when I recognized my ability to become self-aware had increased (I haven't become fully self aware, but, knowing what that means is a valuable step). Membership brought with it the knowledge that all of these insights were available to everyone who can read.

Knowledge about knowledge can be meta-knowledge, but it also can be an awareness that everything labeled "philosophical theory or concept" (which I might/might not be able to understand in whole or part) is no different than a single informative sentence. Because we all know a paragraph will provide more information. Which leads us to realize that an entire book would be much more informative. Then we see an entire shelf of books and wonder about the quantity and quality of all that additional information. Stepping back, we are now far enough away to observe the entire library and realize there are (and were) more library's nearby. (Library's which are filled with information, library's which were burned to the ground a while ago, as well as library's which were burned to the ground before any author/translator was able to read what all those very-long-dead old men had thought about long and hard enough to write it all down.)

There will never be completion when it comes to knowledge. Every theory and concept and idea comes from reading about theories and concepts and ideas. The result of my studying various types of philosophy is — it transformed me from a person of average intelligence into a wise person.

A wise person once said, "referring to oneself as an artist requires a punishable amount of hubris."

What an astute phrase within an ironic sentence (since I just made it up). More accurately, I assume I just compiled the above seventeen words and four punctuation marks into an order, which no person compiled them into before. I'm not saying the concept is novel. Certainly, some hundreds or thousands (millions?) of people have already said, or written, about the terms wise and artist in conjunction with hubris. I may even have heard or read them. However — like George Harrison writing My Sweet Lord — I have no awareness of He's So Fine in my consciousness, as I type.

The building blocks of my sentence are both words and ideas.

I learned, at UW-Milwaukee, that most creative people did not refer to themselves using the term Artist. Yes, we had gallery showings. Yes, some of us profited from selling what we created. But, artist was a compliment-label we reserved for others to use about us.

Accordingly, when studying philosophical concepts, I learned that most extremely intelligent people did not refer to themselves using the term Wise. Yes, they were successful authors. Yes, they may be professors and may possess Doctorates in Philosophy. But, wise was a compliment-label they reserved for others to use about them.

I met—recently—a person who creates art and sells it in a gallery she owns and operates. She constantly refers to herself as an artist. She also insists, with the bulldozing personality of a stage performer, that other creatives must self-anoint, proclaim, and metaphorically tattoo the word ARTIST somewhere prominent for the world to always read.

Although I consider her artistic, and can see passion in her work, she is not wise. She is neither humble nor modest, nor does she possess the inaction firmly wedged between humility and modestly. Instead, she suffers from an inability to get out of her own way. She is a business-woman. She is an activist. She is not an artist.

Death of a Friend — Bret Harrison (1956 - 1978)

While I was writing the essay about a recently-made close friend who died, my brain did one of the weird-things-it-does by recalling a teenage friend who died when I was still a teen. I don't think my brain does this because of my Asperger's. It probably behaves this way as a result of my decades-old drive to exercise my memory, which has over-time become a force-of-habit. Maybe everyone's brain does this to some extent (only yours doesn't tease out every detail, write about it, or create art because of it).

Although—between 1972 and 1976—Bret and I attended the same schools in Peru, Indiana (go tigers) and lived very near each other in Parkview Heights (referred to as, by everyone we knew, a "development" or a "sub-division" rather than a neighborhood) we were as opposite as two teenagers could ever have been.

I started the eighth grade as new student/new city/new school at Peru Junior High, with about a hundred new classmates (who'd all been in puberty for at least a year already), Unfortunately, I was a short-for-my-age, prepubescent, 12 year old (a year younger than all my classmates). It is significant to note that this was my 5th new school since I started first grade at 5 years old at Center School in Peabody, MA (My third grade was in New Haven, IN; fourth was in Fort Wayne, IN; fifth/sixth were in Nashport, OH; and seventh was in Frazeysburg, OH.)

Add—on top of this abnormal constant-uprooting (step-father's job transfers) and the abnormal disparity in classmates ages—that my authoritarian mother forced me to always wear 'school clothes' when jeans, t-shirts, and "sneakers" were the norm; to always cut my hair short, when long or shaggy was de rigueur; and she, routinely, restricted my freedom ("grounded") whenever I was caught playing with a neighbor's toy from her ever-changing and illogical list of verboten items, which included: plastic toy guns, BB guns, bicycles ("two-wheelers"), GI Joe ("action figures"), and minibikes.

This snapshot is the environment which molded me into a shy, introverted, twelve year old (with an inability to make friends) when Bret sat down next to me on the school bus wearing his brand new, flesh-toned, starter mustache. I'd been riding the bus to school for weeks and I'd never seen him before (on the bus or anywhere). 1970s-kid protocol was: high-schoolers didn't exchange pleasantries with junior high kids so I didn't talk to him because I assumed he was the former and learned from him (years later) that he had a personal protocol: never initiate conversations with anyone. Ever.

My next memory of Bret is when it was already sweater-weather. I was standing outside the school waiting for the doors to open, talking with no-one (new kid protocol), making eye contact with no-one (kid-who-always-gets-bullied protocol and Asperger's trait). Regardless, one of the Tully twins decided it was time to pick on me—I never learned if it was Tim or Tom—he said something derogatory, laughed, and slapped the books under my arm to the

sidewalk (why didn't anybody use book-bags back then, and, why didn't I use my Boy Scout back pack after this?) Tully got a jeer of encouragement from other-Tully and a few more from the crowd, I dropped to the sidewalk to collect my homework before it blew away, and some of the feet around me began to step back (space-to-fight protocol) as a low voice said, "Leave him alone." One of the Tullys started to reply, "Mind yer own...," but was interrupted by an arm with a fist at the end of it. Stand-turning, I noticed blood coming from a Tullys mouth and blood on Bret's knuckles, who immediately turned and walked away without looking back. I might have shouted a thanks at Bret's back, but that feels squishy, like a false memory.

Years later, I asked Bret about it and he said that he definitely didn't recall me being there, and was 'definitely not coming to anyone's aid.' He said that 'those fuckin Tullys' had always 'rubbed him wrong' and that he just saw an opportunity to punch a Tully and took it.

It was strange to hear then (and weird to think about now)—Bret had the mind-set, in eighth grade, that some people were always deserving a pop in the mouth, and accordingly, he was going to be the person on the look-out for an opportunity to deliver it. He'd seen a Tully causing a kerfuffle (didn't matter to whom) and popped that fuckin Tully in the mouth.

Bret and I slowly became friends and, by senior year of High School, we were close enough that we ate lunch together on occasion, shared a study hall, and worked as primary designers on the Senior class homecoming float. I learned that he was three-or-four years older than me; he'd been 16 with a driver's license (and a starter mustache) in eighth grade! He was "held back" several times in Elementary School, because of "poor performance". His older brother (whom I never met) died young and his mother died our Junior year. There were many months that I never saw Bret (stories of "juvy-hall" abounded) but I never asked where he'd been when I eventually ran into him, and he never offered an explanation, which may have been why we got along.

I have a vivid memory of walking up to him after a lunch in twelfth grade, and, as we stood talking about nothing, he looked at me and said, "hey, stand up." Which caused me to look down then look him in the eye, and I recognized in-that-moment he had actually thought I was so short that I couldn't have been standing. He laughed at his mistake in judgement so hard his eyes teared up, and that laughter was so contagious, my eyes teared as well. For months after that 'hey-stand-up' was our inside-joke catch phrase.

My last strong memory of Bret was after I accidentally locked the keys in my family car at our High School graduation party, and he agreed to drive me home for a spare set. He drove kinda fast and got pulled over by a deputy sheriff less than a mile from the party. My parents picked me up at the station, retrieved our car, and Bret's Nova SS. Then Bret came to my house for his car—but only he was able to return to the party. I was grounded. (Because I locked the keys in the car, or, because I rode with a 21 year old after he had two beers, or, because needing to be picked up from the police station upset my parents - I'll never know.)

Two years later, sometime in 1978, I learned Bret had died of the same disease that killed his brother and his mother. It made me wonder if the months he was allegedly in some juvenile detention facility were just something (promulgated by Bret) to cover for some health treatments as well as improve his bad-ass street credentials. Again, I'll never know.

Lose Weight the Hard-Simple Way (Notes on Keto, IMF, A-fib and Insulin Resistance)

At the end of 2018, I recognized the common early warning signs for insulin resistance. Over the previous five years, my thirst had increased until—ten months ago—I realized that it was waking me up to urinate/drink more water. Also, I noticed a significant increase in my heart rate and blood pressure after meals. About the same time, I noticed I could have an uneven heartbeat (arterial fibrillation/a-fib), which was intermittent and unrelated to meals, exercise, activity level, or anything I could determine by experimentation.

My a-fib was not directly related to my insulin resistance. My entire life I'd eaten (by default) a low-salt diet. Once I learned how much salt, magnesium (Mg) and potassium (K) that my body needed (and wasn't getting) for normal cellular electrical function, I fixed my a-fib with Himalayan salt tablets (2-4 grams/day), Mg (1,500-4,000mg/day) and K (1150-1450mg/day). All routine muscle cramps and twitches also disappeared along with the a-fib (except when I skip a few days of minerals to test it).

What follows is a synopsis of my research and subsequent actions, which will - hopefully - save you the many hours I spent reading books and the internet. Bullet points have been used to simplify the information. I've followed the bullet points with some slightly-denser paragraphs.

All digested food = water, protein, fat, carbohydrates and vitamins/minerals.
Healthy bodies require (daily) = water, protein, fat and minerals.
There is no minimum daily carbohydrate (carb) requirement.
The small intestine turns carbs/sugars (and any excess proteins) into bio-available glucose.
Glucose is used by the liver to quickly provide fuel to the body's cells.
Glucose causes insulin to be created by the pancreas.
Insulin attaches to glucose and "unlocks" the "door" of energy-starved cells.
Proteins become amino acids, which are used to build/repair cells.
Fats (in the absence of glucose/insulin) become ketones to fuel the body's cells.
Fats (in the presence of glucose/insulin) are stored.
Insulin is a hormone which encourages fat storage and prevents fat burning.
When insulin is absent the pancreas creates the hormone glucagon to start fat burning.
Eat/snack carbs/sugars throughout the day = pancreas constantly releases insulin.
Insulin resistance = "the locks" on energy-starved cells become "jammed".
Exercise the body when insulin is present = build muscle (without losing energy).
Exercise the body when insulin is absent = burn more fat (but get tired faster).
The liver (and other organs) store about 24-48 hours of glucose for immediate use.
No carbs/sugar for 48+ hours = liver fuels the body's cells with stored fat (using ketones).
Insulin Resistance has been mislabeled as Type 2 Diabetes.
Type 1 Diabetes = pancreas produces none or insufficient amount of insulin.
Type 2 Diabetes = pancreas produces plenty of insulin but the cells demand more.

   Shocking Fact #1: There's no such thing as “Heart Disease.” This came as a surprise, since my family tree is full of dead branches of male ancestors who died of it — my dad, Leverett: heart attack while driving; Papa, Milton Bullard: heart attack while sleeping; Great Grampy, Milton’s dad: heart attack while rowing — and the list goes on.

          Doctors use the label Heart Disease as a catch-all for a group of symptoms that are merely a list of risk-factors for a person's potential future heart attack. What all of the men in my family (and tens of millions of other people on Earth) probably died of, is actually Un-diagnosed Insulin Resistance / Type 2 Diabetes.

          Many people’s pancreas successfully continues to make more and more insulin whenever the body demands more and more of it to fuel their cells. And — here is the important part — some people exhibit no symptoms or the symptoms happen so gradually that they go unnoticed or, since there is no pain involved, many people postpone taking action until it is too late.

          Most important fact I learned: Insulin Resistance/Type 2 Diabetes is curable because the body does not have to use very much insulin. That came as big news to me. Contrary to the food pyramid, there are no minimum daily requirements for carbohydrates or sugars. There are only minimum requirements for protein, fat, and a few minerals – none for carbs/sugars. Every cell has two entryways (a metaphor) for getting fuel for cellular energy: the cell’s front door and the cell’s back door (door metaphors).

          The Cell’s Front Door: Insulin is required. This is the simplest and easiest way for the body to fuel cells. It’s the body’s path-of-least-resistance, because there are less chemical processes needed when consuming carbs (and logical in a evolutionary context: encourage fat storage while eating rare and difficult to find, very tasty, high-energy fruits). The small intestine breaks down carbohydrates and refined sugars into bio-available sugars, which enters the bloodstream and causes the pancreas to produce insulin. The insulin carries that bio-available sugar to energy-depleted cells, and then acts like a key—unlocking the door to the cell—which allows the bio-available sugar-fuel to enter. And (sticking with this metaphor) each time insulin opens a cell’s door the lock on that door can become slightly worn.

          Insulin resistance is simply fuel-starved cells signaling their locks are getting worn out, and more insulin will be needed to unlock their doors; the pancreas responds by dumping more insulin into the bloodstream. (And when that’s insufficient, doctors prescribe insulin pills and then injections of more insulin. These are the same doctors who will never say, “Just switch the type of fuel that you are using to fuel your cells.”)

          The Cell's Back Door: The less simple and harder way for the body to fuel cells is for the small intestine to contain no carbohydrates or refined sugars, which causes the pancreas to not produce the hormone insulin and, instead, produce the hormone glucagon. When glucagon is present, the liver dumps its stored bio-available sugars into the bloodstream, and after all stored bio-available sugars are depleted (in a few hours or days) the liver signals the fats cells in the body to fuel the cells. It does this by creating ketone bodies.

          These ketones carry fat from consumed food, and (eventually) from the body’s stored fat, to fuel the cells instead of using glucose from carbs. The evolutionary impulse to “find, eat, and store all the sweet food so as to never deplete one’s reserve fuel tank because Winter Is Coming,” was—until refrigerators—the basis for human survival. Now it is the basis for insulin resistance.

         Curing insulin resistance is a very-hard-simple act.

How to Begin the Keto Diet - Step 1 – For about three weeks (give or take, depends on how often you succumb to sugar cravings) you need to eat no sugar or carbohydrates. Zero carbs. Eat as much protein and fat as you want. Don’t count calories. No vegetables except a moderate amount of avocados and greens with coconut MCT oil or avacado oil. No fruits. No nuts. Just eat fatty meat, eggs, and cheeses and good fats.

Every time you eat any sugar/carbs (which includes the milk in your coffee and the greens in your salad) your liver will store it as bio-available sugar. As long as it is a small amount, you can still go into ketosis. And - if you are in full ketosis, you'll know it when you no longer feel hungry, have no food cravings, and only feel empty after hours of no food.

If - after days of eating only meat and dairy - you still have cravings and hunger? You are consuming something you assumed had no sugar. Alcohol = sugar. One of your daily supplements may advertise as sugar-free; read the label: many sugar substitutes, like maltodextrin, make the pancreas create more insulin than sugar does. I recommend using only liquid stevia extract as a sweetener.

Typical keto meals: eggs, bacon and a whole avocado with coffee with heavy cream, and some drops of liquid stevia; a big hamburger patty, double cheese, fried egg on top, greens with coconut aioli, seltzer water with stevia; a steak with blue cheese and butter, a whole avacado and tea with no sweetener. The first few days are the most challenging. Your brain wants the carbs/sugars and it will tell your stomach very loudly that you need, must, get sugars. Just snack on some pork rinds or some deli meat and cheese or another coffee with heavy cream.

Supplements - Because, on keto, you're never eating enough vegetables or fruits, and you probably weren't getting enough of many of these from the American Diet anyway: Psyllium fiber pills; Multi-B vitamin; Zinc; Vitamin K (help calcium from heavy cream and cheese get out of my bloodstream); Vitamin D (absorption of other minerals and mood enhancement), Butyric Acid (large intestine health); Omega 3s (skin and cellular health), Turmeric (anti-inflammatory), Garlic (aids in the reduction of arterial plaque); CoQ10 (heart enzyme); apple cider vinegar pills (aids in digestion of all these fuckin pills).

Step 2 - For the next three months you need to maintain less than a one-meal a week carb or sugar cheat meal limit (never a one day a week). You are now, also gradually, going to pay attention to calories. Counting calories is not really necessary, just use common sense. You are going to eat less because you are less hungry and your body is not craving carbs anymore.

I recommend a cheat meal once a month. It's needed so you can experiment with how you feel; how insulin resistant or fat adapted have you become? If you're doing this only to lose weight, then how much weight do you not lose the week of your cheat meal compared to a week of no cheat meal?

This is combined with a gradual phase-in of intermittent fasting (IMF). This means you need to, slowly, reduce your daily eating/snacking from all day, to eating only within a 4 hour window. Water, clear diet fluids, or coffee with stevia, are the only things you drink outside of an ever diminishing window of time. Begin with 12 hours, and reduce it by 2 hours every few weeks until you feed yourself during a 4-hour time window.

I should go into detail as to why experimenting with long term fasting is the next step. But, since I don’t consider it a mandatory next step, I will just call this paragraph "Step 2.5" Your body contains tiny, microscopic, filaments lining the interior walls of all of its arteries. When we eat, something damages those filaments (research has not determined what hormone or chemical does the damage and some researchers completely deny it happens or that food is the cause). When we don’t eat they, reportedly, grow back. When we eat constantly they never grow back and the linings of our arteries eventually get tiny scars and long-term constant eating causes plaque to build up around those scars. So when you reduce your eating window to 4 hours a day the filaments can grow back. If you skip consuming anything that can cause the release of insulin for 24 hours (to a maximum of 48 hours) all filaments definitely grow back and autophagy begins. Autophagy is what it sounds like: the body eating itself - and it is a good thing to do about once a month, because it means the pancreas has depleted glucagon and the body begins to do some "house cleaning" by consuming dead/damaged cells. I say this step is not mandatory because it is just a way of pushing off a heart attack for a few years or decades. You can not measure if it is (was) effective until you are crazy old and still alive.

Step 3 – You are now about nine months into your keto lifestyle. You have – guarantee – lost at least 20% of your body mass. You have not done much exercise, if any (it's only necessary if you enjoy it or are in some kind of hurry to lose weight). Your insulin resistance is almost completely gone now. You are no longer thirsty and - in fact - need to remind yourself to drink water. You no longer get insulin spikes after meals (except on cheat meals when you consume too many carbs). You are now comfortable ordering at restaurants (meat, salad, eggs, cheese, add avocado on everything, diet drinks or seltzer with your own stevia drops). You can skip a day of food when you decide to. You can also have a huge cheat meal on your birthday or when the occasion calls for it.

Step 4 – There is not really another step (unless you count eating this way for the rest of your life as a step). If you want to continue to lose more weight than the current weight you've become = eat less cheat meals. If you are comfortable with your level of insulin resistance = eat cheat meals more often (recommend keeping a 4 - 6 hour eating window and continuing to skip a day or two of eating at least once a month). Most important: pay attention to how your body feels when you eat, after you eat, and during the hours you are fasting – remember how your body felt when you would eat many times a day with snacks, and how you slept then, and how much joint pain you had then, and compare it to how you feel now.

POSTSCRIPT - If I ever had any faith in any medical professional, routine tests would have resulted in prescriptions (for statins and insulin), I would have been instructed “eat less and exercise more,” and provided a less-than-worthless menu-plan prescribed by the American Diabetes Association, based on the Food Pyramid (which is how I got insulin resistance in the first place). And, for my a-fib, doctors may have recommended invasive surgery to shock my heart back into regular rhythm (based on guidance from the American Heart Association).

Because I'm retired military, none of that health care would have cost me anything in dollars, just in life-expectancy. I know people who pay serious money for their insulin (tens of thousands of dollars a year) and one person who had his heart shocked into normal rhythm (a few thousand; but it needed to be re-done a few months later). . .which is the primary reason your doctor will deny any of this is based on valid research and will never recommend ketosis, IMF, and autophagy as ways for you to cure yourself. Because - how can they profit from that advice?

With all that said, the only real way to know if this is/was an effective way to lose weight and avoid insulin resistance - for you - is to try it out. For me, it's to step on the scales and look in the mirror; In 8 months I lost 50 lbs and 6 waistline-inches. And, in the future - if I'm still here - then I have not followed in my male ancestor's footsteps (because I diagnosed my insulin resistance, became fat adapted, fixed my a-fib, and the practice of IMF and autophagy has postponed the inevitable, which is a great title for an essay about Amor Fati and Memento Mori: My Inevitable Demise).

Death of a Friend — Carol Turner (1945-2018)

Cecil caught rubbing his head on top of Carol's

          A good friend of mine died last year on the 10th of September. Her name was Carol Turner and she was fortunate enough to survive 2.5 years after her first brain cancer surgery. Although I was her neighbor for seven years, Carol liked Cecil—my cat—much more than she liked me (which is not hard to understand, he's a better person than I am). Cecil was always ebullient when he showed affection for her. There was no doubt, in anyone's mind, that Cecil liked Carol more than he liked anyone. When he was around Carol, his behavior was analogous with that of a child who prefers their grandparent over their parent.

Over the years, Carol and I (and Cecil) spent hundreds of hours—mostly in the warm weather months—sitting and talking in the courtyard of our apartment complex. We talked about many obscure things as well as nothing important, mostly we three were just keeping each other company.

          A few people loved Carol and sought out her company. Most people, however, were irritated by her too-happy, naivete, and seemed to attempt to avoid her constant overly-chipper attitude. There were two reasons for this: The first was because Carol was obsessively driven to inject a ray of sunshine into every person she talked to, every day, whenever she crossed their path, no matter what. Always. Incessantly. On top of this, she unfortunately was severely afflicted with an aversion to ending conversations (on the phone or in person). It didn't matter if you were interacting with her for the first time in weeks, or if you had just finished talking with her for an hour, she had to share, and repeat herself, and chat, and keep talking.

          The second reason was because almost all Asperger Syndrome traits were evident in Carol's behavior: She was victim to an excessive hoarding impulse (was ashamed of it, but refused offers to assist with it). She suffered from a sensitivity to light, odors, and touch. She had a monotone vocal tone, which was mostly only noticeable when she raised her voice to catch someones attention (usually someone attempting to avoid her). She had an aversion to eye contact. She displayed a difficulty in reading the emotions of others as well as communicating her emotions non-verbally (instead, she would explain her feelings: "I'm so excited" or "I am so happy for you").

This was not something many people knew how to handle. But, because I possess at least half of the Asperger's traits, I understood why she acted the way she did, and wasn't put-off by her discomfiting behavior. I would usually steer her repetitious brain-loop dialogue towards new thoughts. I handled her failure to end conversations by telling her, early in our friendship, that every mutual-goodbye was final. Once said, I hung up/walked away (no matter if she continued to talk or hollered at my back).

The down-side of Carol's naivete and her inability to read body language was that she was a horrible judge of character and remained loyal to some terribly toxic people (who she erroneously referred to as 'friends'). A few of them used her all the way to her death. She would talk about some "really great person" (no matter if it was someone she knew for decades or a new neighbor she only talked to once) and, eventually, I would learn (more often than not) about a large number of terrible things this person had done to her or to other people she knew.

The death of my friend was not unexpected, nor was it a surprise when it occurred, but the shadow of that friendship continues to remind me that it's gone. Although I no longer feel sadness, I do occasionally still miss Carol—especially when out-walking with Cecil if he yowls on her porch while staring at her door (now occupied by a new tenant) his confusion then reminds me of our loss.

Values, Socioeconomic Positions, Gravel for 2020 President

If you have a personal set of values, and were asked to briefly outline a few you consider the most important, what would you say?

I have some core values. They are character traits that I've attempted to adhere to.

Treat everyone alike—from strangers I've never met to neighbors and family members.
My moral and ethical standards are governed by my own conscience. I want to be a good person in my own eyes, therefore, I always attempt to behave with an awareness of the probable outcome, to ultimately avoid thinking of myself as a hypocrite.
Avoid negative people, as well as those who are (actively and passively) emotionally draining.
Be aware that there are millions of people who are smarter than I'll ever be—listen when others speak; evaluate new ideas using critical thinking skills; be courageous enough to change my mind when I identify a more logical/rational idea.
Admit when I'm wrong and apologize for my past mistakes in judgement.

If you are a US citizen who is politically aware enough to support a political platform, and were asked to briefly outline a few socioeconomic positions you consider the most important, what would you say?

Until today, I would have referred to the list of issues of the Bernie Sanders 2020 Campaign. If asked to pick those I consider the most important, I would have listed:

Economic Inequality
Healthcare
Political Reform
Criminal Justice Reform
Free Undergraduate Tuition

But, now, I have to refer to the list of issues of the Mike Gravel 2020 Presidential Campaign. These

are much more. Much more of everything. Everything that Bernie Sanders espouses but with complex, definitive, and in many cases, clearly-thought-out details. A few which I consider best of the best:

National Ranked Choice Voting & The Wyoming Rule
Dept of Defense = War Dept and the Dept of Peace (with 50% cut in funding)
Bring every US troop home
American National Fund
Break Up Big Businesses
Public Banking For All

Do you think Mike Gavel should become president in 2020...is not the question. Anyone who asks that question isn't paying attention/has not read the first paragraph of this essay. There are going to be at least two dozen people running in the Democratic Primary next year. Their issues are what are important. Deciding (defining) what your personal values are, and encouraging others to decide what theirs are, is what is most important. We shouldn't care about what a candidate looks like, or what school they attended, or how many languages they can speak, or how old they are, or what sex they are...all that is unimportant.

If you can't read and have to have your information read (spoon fed) to you, here is Mike Figueredo explaining in a video, why you should donate to Mike Gavel 2020.

A Simple Exercise in Rational Thinking

          Do you understand what it is to think rationally?

By that, I'm not asking if you know the definition of rational thought; I'm asking you to describe the feeling, the emotional impact, of your mind's effect on your body when you examine a series of facts and, consequently, draw a logical conclusion—the result of which is a novel idea (for your brain).

          When you mentally examine something complex, which you've not considered before (but others, obviously, have) do you have a 'eureka moment'? Or, do you just store this new-to-you information and mentally move on? Is there a last-puzzle-piece-falling-into-place feeling of pleasure-adrenaline? Do you get an inner smile?

Let me give you an example. Each of the following numbered statements are factually true.

You had no control over when, or where, you were born.
Your parents had no control over when/where they were born.
No mammal controls when/where it's born. Life on earth can be dated to three billion years ago.
Our planet is about four billion years old. It is about a million times smaller than the sun.
The sun is about five billion years old. It is one star in a galaxy of at least a hundred billion others.
Our galaxy is about 14 billion years old. It is one galaxy in an observable universe of trillions.
The observable universe is only about 100 million years older than our galaxy. Because of the speed of light and the continual expansion of space (over those 14 billion years) the farthest point of light we can see, today, is approximately 46 billion light-years away; the light from everything further away hasn't had time to reach us yet.

The only rational conclusion to be made from this list: The universe is infinite. It goes on in all directions—forever; filled with an infinite number of galaxies, solar systems, stars, planets, and life which had no control over when or where in the vast infinity of space and time they were were formed (were born).

I came to this conclusion because our location in the universe is completely arbitrary. Humans did not choose to make earth their home, no more than the earth chose it's placement around the sun, or the sun chose it's placement in the milky way, or the milky way chose its placement in existence.

Right this moment, as you're reading these words, if you raise your left hand and point, a zillion-and-a-half light years away in that exact direction is another intelligent person. Xhe is exponentially smarter than you and I (because life can be dated to seven billion years ago on xer planet). None-the-less, xhe did not control when/where xhe was born. Right now, xhe is also contemplating xer observable universe (which is also 46 billion light-years away from xer arbitrary location in the entire universe). You and Tgja (that's what xer name sounds like to human ears) are alive at exactly the same moment in time, in the infinite existence of space, but our two observable universe's will never overlap. Our two planets have never, and will never, share one single point of light in each of our respective night skies.

Oh, and one final answer to that question you had from the last paragraph: it's because xer entire species put hubris behind them and stopped thinking about themselves as the center of all existence when they stopped believing in anything they could not prove with mathematics (over 27 thousand years ago). That was the time when Tgja's species began treating those who claimed to know something which couldn't be rationally proven, using simple logic, as mentally damaged. Back then, they'd kindly offer those lesser individuals a kind facial grimace (xhe would call it a smile, we—if we could see it—would never refer to it as such) before they reported the defective individual (whom they referred to as 'idiot') for re-education.

more complex stuff:

conformity (accidental vs intentional)

valuable values

claims about god(s)

When You Ponder Why You're Who You Are, What Happens?

          Thinking about thinking — it's not just reserved for philosophers, poets, and songwriters.

When reminiscing about the first time you swam in the ocean, or rode a horse, or got lost, your brain begins the recollection because of a sensory 'anchor point' specific to those past thoughts. It may have been a mental snapshot (waves on a sandy beach), a specific smell (coconut sunscreen oil), an unusual sound (distant seagull cries), or maybe even a uniquely memorable sensation of touch (bare feet on hot sand) or taste (saltwater on the lips). Your mind does this autonomously, and routinely, because the event was accompanied by a sufficiently strong enough emotion — at the time — for your brain to release chemicals into your bloodstream.

          Pleasurable events are 'attached' (associated with) different chemicals than those associated with, and caused by, negative events. It's important to note that our consciousness's default mode is to prioritize negative brain chemicals (and those associated events) as more relevant and valuable (easier to recall) than positive chemicals/events (easier to forget).

          The reason negative memories have priority is because our survival is our mind's most important task. The adage: 'What doesn't kill you, makes you stronger' exemplifies this — no matter how much enjoyment your brain stored during the hundreds of joyful hours you've spent in the ocean, the few minutes you struggled and almost drowned, when you got swept out to sea by a riptide, is considered an immensely more important memory by your conscious mind.

Similarly, your brain accompanies a different mix of chemicals with a story you were told (or read) about a stranger's or a fictional character's visit to a beach; just as it does when your mind creates a memorable dream about going to a beach.

"I remember my first trip to the beach when I was five. It was at Cape Cod, Massachusetts. A huge grey wood stairway-walkway led us across the dunes, and I ran from where it ended all the way to the surf-line, because the sand burned my feet."

That's not an accurate recollection of those events. Not really.

What actually happened is the five-year-old came home from Cape Cod and told people what happened at the beach that day, which 'locked in' a few memorable moments (among which included: building a sand castle with a plastic yellow pail and blue trowel, floating briefly in the shallows without assistance, and collecting shells — no mention of hot sand). Over the next few weeks/months that five-year-old learned information about that day at the beach from the perspective of family members (both parents constantly recounted to themselves, and others, about how hot the sand was). Years later, the five-year-old/now teenager has lost the memories of sand-digging and shell-collecting (because those events were no longer intentionally recalled by the conscious mind and, subsequently, deemed unimportant) but the memory of running across the sand was reinforced, and sufficiently re-remembered, to make it a strong enough memory that the five-year-old/now adult owns a pair of beach shoes.

Our brains can also construct completely new ideas by imagining the answers to questions (posed by ourselves or others).

Take this as a question: What is the difference between fictional conjecture and theoretical science or philosophy?

          Try this as an answer: Currently (as of March 2019) there is no consensus, among all the minds engaged in studying astronomy and astrophysics, as to what causes the forces currently referred to as dark matter and dark energy.

The two terms are placeholders. It is widely agreed that these two placeholder-terms are required to explain the events we see in the observable universe. Specifically, that there must be much more matter than we can visibly account for (our galaxy's would fly apart if all the visible solar systems were the only things providing gravity) and there must be some unknown force causing every galaxy to move away from each other at an increasing rate (it is increasing too fast to be caused by gravity).

What if prior to the inflation of the universe (foolishly mislabeled big bang) there was not nothing? What if every atom had been crushed into a singularity by the combined mass of the something that is currently called dark matter? And, that dark matter exerted dark energy in the same manner as real matter exerts gravity? Do not confuse anti-matter in this hypothesis (that's another thing all together). When universe-inflation began about 15 billion years ago, the dark matter fractured and has been coalescing within all the matter ever since. This dark matter lost it's energy (in a radiation-like manner) so it can no longer re-coalesce (every molecule of dark matter lost it's gravity-component). Different from how a single atom of hydrogen has a minuscule amount of gravity (which means real matter possesses a component which always provides it with an attractive-force, currently theorized to be one of the quantum particles) — in the case of dark matter it all lost its attractive force (dark energy) at once. Dark energy (now radiating free of the matter it once was attached to) can't act on matter. But, it can act on gravity. So, large amounts of gravity (galaxy-sized amounts of gravity) are being acted on by the dark energy.

Is this fictional conjecture? Is this theoretical physics? Is this philosophy?

March 2020 addendum (no such thing as dark energy): Recent re-evaluation, by current astrophysicists, on the term dark energy (as a needed placeholder term) has revealed it to - maybe - be a completely unneeded term.

The term dark energy was coined, based on faulty science. Apparently (more science is now needed to re-confirm its lack of existence) "small sample size" is to blame for the decades-long erroneous statement that all galaxies are moving away from each other at an ever increasing rate.

Re-testing/re-measurements on a large scale, revealed that if you examine more than one swath of space (and not just one single minuscule spot) almost all galaxies move at various different rates relative to other galaxies in all directions and speeds. The chaos of things in space move chaotically and with no uniformly increasing speed.

(And, if you look back at just that one minuscule spot from decades ago, those few galaxies do - in fact - still appear to be moving at an increasing rate.) The astrophysicists of 1970 were not lying. They just never asked anyone to check their math. Or to look at another part of space. And nobody took it upon themselves to check their math, or look elsewhere, for 50 years or so.

So there is no dark energy. It was a mistake to think it was ever a thing. And for decades to come, people will still claim it is real because (like every oops-editorial "we made a mistake when we said before that...") it will not get bandied-about as much as the erroneous original claim.

Is this fictional conjecture? Is this theoretical physics? Is this philosophy?

The only thing it is not is religion. A 50-year mistake made by scientists is still science (in fact, it is good science.) Show me a religion that admits its mistakes.

more essays related to memory:

I Cecil You, Too

Neither Overwhelmed Nor Underwhelmed

A Simple Exercise in Rational Thinking