28 February 2008

Book Alert




It won't the Pulitzer, but it still is a page turner.

Wonton Mechanics

This is the science of eating Chinese food and popcorn with chopsticks. . .in case you're interested.

I have not blogged in a week because I'm working nearly 70 hours/week and am working on a book project involving obsequious bourgeois proletarians, fast-food, tv, human evolution, and unidentified soaring objects.

I can assure you I am eating healthy, getting plenty of rest, and spending more money at Exxon than is right.

to be continued. . .

26 February 2008

A light post

It is difficult for some people to maintain what most others call 'normal.'

For example.

The other day while running along the beach, I saw a seagull pecking at a washed up shark. Washed up in the location sense, not the social sense.

Immediately my mind made the connection between telepathy, the explanation behind dark matter, the true nature of light, woman's' intuition, and neuronal atrophication of cerabellas in equatorial climates. . .using quantum mechanics and the first chapter of Genesis.

Life.

Complicated.

Very.

And when one tries to explain this revelation they invariably stare at you and ask how long's it been since you've had a girlfriend.

Light, you see, must. . .must. . .must be what everything in the universe is made of. Everything that is composed of atoms, that is. Dark matter isn't necessarily made up of atoms, but we know it exists. It has too exist. I don't know why it has too, but it must. One's spirit and soul isn't composed of light, yet it interacts with light like magnets interact with iron filings.

Light, all the light in the universe, is really a single discrete entity. We see different aspects of it depending on how we interact with it. When one turns on a flashlight, one distorts one aspect of the whole. Or, when one throws a rock at a house, the only apparent thing that happens is a broken window, but really the entire house moves (that is sort of what happens, but not quite.) And this train of thought led naturally to praying-and how God must know when we pray.

In the beginning, God said, "Let there be light." And then the light appeared, or came from God. Then God made everything from this light. Twisted and bent it into shape. Squeezed it. Modified it. Then, made more complicated stuff from it called atoms- from which all matter is made.

Then He made people and gave them the gift of speech. We talk to an invisible God and He hears us.

Why?

Talking distorts the very fabric of the space-time continuum (composed of light.) Modifies it in a way that the resulting effect is a pattern that God recognizes as Susie Q praying.

Yes, but how does women's intuition fit into it?

Light was made before land was made before plants was made before animals was made before Adam was made before Eve.

Get the pattern?

Less complex to more complex. Basic to complicated. Lower to higher. Less refined to more refined.

Eve (and all women) are slightly more (in both a biological sense and mindful sense) in tune with universe than man. Their way they are constructed gives them an increased ability to perceive how everything fits together. That's how they know things that guys debate about and write theses on.

And the neuronal atrophication of cerabellas in equatorial climates?

Too much light, or rather, high frequency radiation from the sun on a more acute angle, disrupts the DNA in the brain at a higher frequency. Since DNA is the material that holds the directions on how to make more cells, the resulting cells don't work quite right which leads to problems at a younger age than people living up North. And they age quicker and die younger.

But eating shark cartilage helps.

25 February 2008

Movin' on

I don't know what to think of this video.

It is supposed to be actual footage (on a home video camera) of an electron moving through liquid helium.

According to the article, the time it takes an electron to circumnavigate the nucleus is 10-18 seconds. Which, if converted to a single second, is the supposed age of the universe.

20 February 2008

There's a moon out tonight. . .

And it's going to be copper.

9:01 PM here on the East coast of North America is when the eclipse begins.

19 February 2008

Old Oxford and the agony of defeat

Old Oxford was a merry ole' sole,
And a marryin' old soul was he.

He lived with his wives, all thirty and three,
In a shoe called the 'Rescue Me.'

Every morning at six, he arose from his fix,
And worked like a good bourgeoisie.

And produced a mountain of nikes, for his 101 tikes,
With feet like an anthropoid ape.

His wives told him, "chimps don't have souls,or feet like moles!"
but alas, their advice he did not keep.

So with a big hoo-doo, his brides left the shoe,
And moved to the blue Galilee.

Where they set up shop, called 'The New IHOP,'
Selling Oxford's useless leather crop.

And made a fortune in cash, from the old leather stash,
(Which was using great wisdom. . .don't ya see)

Along came a spider, ordered a cider,
And asked if any soles were to be had.

They pointed up North, to which he directed his course,
said to the black widow from the thirty and three.

Which is what you'd expect, if you'd fail to neglect,
advice from your thirty and three.

Life in Bible Days

I had a dream.

The year was 3,000 B.C. (so said the calendar on the wall.) It was my third day in Tel-Aven, a suburb of Jericho, and I was going to town.

As I walked to the marketplace, it seemed a little odd that everybody I saw wore bathrobes and carried sticks. Most of the older men had beards, yet somehow the hair didn't seem natural. One fellow, who called himself Bob, (a strange name for a sheepherder), said his wife bought his beard at a flea market.

The women were barefoot-every last one of them. But the strange thing was, there was no dirt on their feet. . .another mystery.

I continued on. Looking around, I was amazed by all the sheep and horses grazing. They were quietly nibbling, never making any noise, not so much as a bleat.

And everybody was mellow. . .like it was the day after a really wild party kind of mellow. You would think that being a middle-eastern country, everyone's skin would be dark. . .or at least olive-skinned.

Not so. All the Tel-Avenites looked like natives from some future society where everyone's skin is white. . .scandinavian white.

An angel showed up. Apparently, they were more common in 3,000 B.C. I knew it was an angel because he was wearing a white toga with a golden sash and had a halo around his head.

"Hark!" he cried. (Another giveaway. . .nobody else ever said hark, except angels).

"Who hast given thou permission to tread upon the land of Aven?"

"Nobody really," I replied. "Actually, I'm just dreaming."

Then, like the vanishing hitchhiker, the angel disappeared.

Did I mention how incredibly quiet everything was? No planes, trains, or automobiles. No cell phones, computers, timers, buzzers, microwaves. A lot less people. The only music people played were these quirky little tunes on small harps and flutes. Long drawn out music too. . .reminded me vaguely of an opera.

It was funny seeing women wearing no make-up. For reasons I am unable to explain, some of the guys put this dark make-up stuff on their faces. . .like tanning cream. . .but only on their faces. Then they went around looking more somber than usual.

At this time I woke up.

"Was this really how people lived back then?"

16 February 2008

Will Seattle survive?

According to this, every Starbucks in the country will close it's doors for three hours. Not only will the doors be closed, but they'll be locked as well.

Why?

Apparently mediocrity has reared it'd ugly head and the servers have forgotten how to make the perfect coffee.

Three hours. Three hours of darkness in which the sun will be darkened, and the sea turned to blood. A day of apocalypticism. A caffeine-free era never experienced by those under 20-years-old.

Will Seattle survive?

They survived a Super Bowl loss and Mount St. Helens.

But Starbucks?

We shall see.

13 February 2008

Life after Bracton

Now that I'm in Belbury. . .on Valentine's Day Eve. . .sans Jane. . .I do hope the end comes soon.

I had an extraordinarily vivid dream last night about the future of America. I was riding in a van full of bloggers, people's blogs I read, and we were somewhere in the mid-west. . .a flat place, like North Dakota or Kansas, and tornadoes were literally forming before our very eyes. There was a new one created every minute. . .with winds far exceeding the natural. And two thoughts crossed my mind,

1-this is very interesting, and

2-are you getting this on camera (to a girl in the back of the bus holding a camera)

Sometimes in Life, one must stir people up, or act a little crazy, to attain a desired goal. This is one reason why Moses went to Pharaoh.

Sometimes God will stir up people to get you out of a bad situation. The key is maintaining your sanity (and tongue) until the proper time.

Easier for some than others. It's the people with lotsa patience that speak softly and carry big sticks that one must watch.

Another dream I had. In a room filled with evil spirits and fallen men, they perceived me as a black panther. I was thirsty and couldn't speak, so I growled at them. The men got frightened and the evil spirits left.

Some people, very very few people, are like wild animals. . .like cheetahs. You think you can tame them, and honestly believe that they are tame if one keeps them in a cage with plenty food and water. And try to make them fat and sleepy.

Inevitably, somebody with little sense starts messing with the. . .tame. . .cheetah. Then, for no apparent reason, the cheetah turns on the foolish man and smacks his head a good one. And no human, especially a stupid one, stands a chance fighting a full-grown cheetah. It's simple see. You are fighting the cheetah on his terms, not yours.

Some people would be wise not to mess with things that they have no business messing with. Patience is a virtue, but usually has a finite limit.

12 February 2008

Patient Moses

If one were to ask Mr. Jason Michael Parrish how work is going he would reply by saying,

"God. . .is. . .inciting. . .Pharaoh. . .against. . .Moses."

And that's all I'm going to say about that.

So everybody else on the planet. Did your day go well today?

(I should really not grit my teeth so much. It's hard on the enamel)

08 February 2008

Moray Eel - $200

One of the more interesting things on the Virginia Beach Craigslist

06 February 2008

An untitled post

AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


(stress. . .you know)

04 February 2008

Hobbit mom

Apparently my mom is a hobbit. . .



They say you shrink as you age. . .hmmmmmm

I should call home more often.

Today

New job
New York Giants win
No longer on night shift
New table in my bedroom
Spaghetti and two cans of RockStar for breakfast
No lunch
An afternoon snack on pepperjack cheese
A fixed washer/dryer
A hungry Betta
Looking for a Jetta
Spaghetti and spinach with horseradish sauce for dinner
And one updated blog entry

Current thought: Today is the first day of the rest of my life.

03 February 2008

Rivendell?


When J.R.R. Tolkien was 19-years-old, he spent some time trekking through Switzerland. One web site I found had a drawing of Rivendell by the author compared to this valley in Switzerland and thought Tolkien got his idea for the Elven home here. I modified the picture and posted it here. You be the judge.

31 January 2008

Stupidification

Diligent people rule the planet.
Lazy people are the slaves.
Educated people are always busy learning and chatting.
The less intelligent are the servants.

The brain, you know, is a muscle. And as all muscles, need exercise lest it atrophy causing stupidity. This is one reason why most people at 25-years of age get stupid. . .and think the same basic thoughts over and over. . .they cease reading, writing, and thinking. . .and watch tv.

Stupidity is, in a strange sense, a gift from God. When people reject God, they reject logic and creativity, causing the brain to become warped. So, the rejectors inevitably undergo stupidification, which, like Alzheimers, helps them forget reality and leave a numb and dumb life.

Perfect love casts out all fear. So doesn't too much alcohol, though not in the same way.

The older I get, the more I view other people as pets. Hopefully, this isn't just me. But some people, God help them, don't make much sense when they talk. It is like listening to a golden retriever barking at a squirrel.

I'm also starting to believe that 99% of the people don't know 99% of what they're talking about, 99% of the time.

And so one stares at the little human people, like a herd of cattle or sheep, and listens to them bay at the moon, passing cars, and stuff food down their mouths. . .continually. . .lest they get discomfortable (is this a word?) . . .and eat grass, and sometimes smoke it, and watch other cows on reality tv. . .to see what real live other people do. Why??? If religion is supposed to be the opiate of the masses, tv must be fast food for the masses.

Some animals should never be let in the house




Unless it is Jessica the Hippo


The UK Daily Telegraph has the story here.

25 January 2008

The Ugliest Shirt in the World. . .



. . .and I own it.

Everytime I wear this shirt, which is rarely, somebody always mocks me. . .my family heritage. . .my distant ancestors. . .and so I have decided to sell it to the highest bidder at the amazingly low price of $500. . .not that it's even remotely worth it, but hey, why not try.

I finished 2nd in this race if I recall.

19 January 2008

Snollygosterisms

My parents beat me growing up because they thought I was a pretentious boaster. They never actually called me a 'pretentious boaster,' rather a snollygoster. I had no idea what this word meant so I asked my Sunday school teacher, Old Mrs. Snodgrass. She seemed to be under the impression that I was a drinker because I would sit in the back with the bad kids and repeat the words . . .snollygoster, snollygoster, snollygoster . . .over and over again until she mumbled something about catching roaches of the liver. She also called me the fatigue-inest boy she'd h'ever met in her life.

Old Mrs. Snodgrass's first name was Chloe. I didn't know this, and thought it strange to be called Slow. I'm not saying she was slow, but if the Devil got sick, she's the one you would send for the doctor.

Slow Snodgrass waxed eloquent about Noah, Moses, and the Garden of Eden. She had her own notions about scripture and many of her interpretations, while not perfectly accurate, were quite sincere. Chloe hated reptiles and snakes in particular. According to her, the Devil was a "large serpent seeking whom it may bite." She also said, "snakes are natured that way, and that's why a snake is a damned snake."

Sometime later, I found a black snake in our strawberry patch and told my parents, "There's a damned snake in the berries." But being a pretentious boaster they beat me within an inch of my life and threatened to wash out my mouth with soap, which I thought unusual since I always brushed my teeth twice a day and never had cavities.

I think my parents taught me to speak wrong. Hiding from yet another potential beating, I hid in the dirty clothes hamper and distinctly recall mom saying, "You come on up out from down in under there, or I'll tan your hide shore enough and just see if I don't!"

That's when I took up reading.

17 January 2008

The Honking Mazda

I do not know when the honking started.

I know it was after my landlord left and probably after Dr. Bill left. Dr. Bill, btw, is not a physician, nor does he have a Ph.D in any field. Dr. Bill fixes appliances and drives a white cargo van. Today, the Dr. and the landlord came by to repair the dryer which runs continuously until the clothes undergo spontaneous combustion.

But that's another story.

It must have been close to 6 PM when I stepped outside and noticed my truck flashing the neighborhood. When something you own flashes the neighbors it is not a good day unless you win the lottery.

I did not win today's lottery.

The Little Silver Mazda that Could was flashing it's lights and honking for all it's worth. Keep in mind that Virginia Beach, USA is not a sparsely populated area. . .think lots of condos, apartments, and Marriots packed with tourists and artsy people. People who come for peace and quiet to contemplate the mysteries of nature.

There is nothing mysterious about a honking Mazda.

I noticed that all the neighbors lights were out and shades drawn. So, I can only hope none of them were home. Yet something tells me otherwise.