For those who happen to believe the world wasn't created logically, I apologize. Once for attacking you right there by saying your idea is illogical, and then again for assuming you believe what I want you to believe. Chances are if you are reading this blog, you have a bit of an attitude to you, and you certainly don't believe what I want you to believe, even though you should. So here I am, apologizing yet again, for what I am now about to say, mainly just to get your blood pumping. You're wrong, I'm right. Deal with it.
On that note, I would like to start today's post. A very long time ago, the world was created in a massive outwards expansion of our universe. In less than a second, our galaxy was the size of our current solar system. Stars were born, galaxies formed, planets took orbit around suns, moons took orbit around planets, and other bits and pieces simply began floating around in the vast nothingness that is space.
4.6 billion years ago, our planet was born. In a massively hot ball of melted rocks and metals, our planet began to take shape. Shortly after this, a large rock crashed into the extremely hot surface of our planet. This impact caused a massive deceleration in the impacting body, which began to orbit outside our planet, forming our Moon.
Roughly 4 billion years ago, tectonic movement begins to create land masses. The surface begins to cool, and we begin to see the shaping of what we recognize as Earth.
3.5 billion years ago, the first common ancestor of all life is born. It is a marine single celled organism which would later spread and give birth to all the future forms of life on our planet. As life spreads, photosynthesis begins to take place, providing the oxygen that is necessary for the life cycle.
1.3 billion years ago, the first super continent Rodinia is born. Life begins to exist on land, close to the oceans. Water cannot make it inland on the massive super continent, so most life is forced to stay close to the shoreline. At this point, most life was crustacean.
750 million years ago, Rodinia breaks apart, letting water get into the centre of the super continent. The first mass extinction follows, wiping out 99.9% of all life on the planet's surface.
250 million years ago, Pangaea is formed, and then breaks apart 66 million years ago. The dinosaurs are born, and die, in this time span, leaving only the avian reptiles which would later become birds, and small mammals to survive what was the fifth mass extinction in earth's history.
200,000 years ago, the branch of current humans known as Homo Sapiens came into existence.
1700 years ago, the first springs of Christianity began to appear. 1100 years ago, Christianity began to take on similar forms to how it exists in today's world.
900 years ago (roughty), the Crusades took place. Lots of people fought and died. The dark ages also took place a little before this, and slightly afterwards. Lots of people died. Lots more were sad.
A little under 100 years ago, the first World War took place. People fought so our great grandparents could live.
A little over fifty years ago, the second World War took place. People fought so our parents and grandparents could live.
Then, trillions of years after the creation of the universe, 110 billion humans later, we have reached this one point in human history. All those lives, all that creating of our planet, shaping of our galaxy and our solar system, all those countless individuals, be them human or not, that have been born and died to reach today lead to one thing; Me!
That's right, trillions of years after the beginning of everything, I was born. The universe went through everything for what reason? So that I could live! Bet you wish you were me right now, don't you. Well you're not. Deal with that also.
Monday, July 30, 2007
Sunday, July 29, 2007
Toaster Mystery Solved
There are many great mysteries in this world, most of which we will never solve. Of these mysteries, a great majority of them were created by events that were far beyond the reach of mankind. Others, were caused by either our genius, or our stupidity. One such event is the mystery of the toaster oven.
The toaster oven is just one of those things I doubt mankind will ever really understand. It is a fascinating device in which bread goes in, and a few minutes later, toast comes out. How does this work, you ask? Let me explain it to you in one word. Magic.
That's right, I said it. Magic. We finally have indisputable evidence that magic exists on our planet. There are simply some things that can't be explained by physics, or math, or history, and so we must turn to the only logical alternative. Magic. It makes sense, doesn't it? You take a slice of regular bread, put it into the contraption that swallows your bread into a land of the unknown, and several minutes later, your bread is gone, and the world of the unknown has replaced it with a wonderful slice of toast just for you! Magic!
Do not stand there and tell me I'm wrong. If you can do it with God, I can do it with toasters. So ha! Magic.
The toaster oven is just one of those things I doubt mankind will ever really understand. It is a fascinating device in which bread goes in, and a few minutes later, toast comes out. How does this work, you ask? Let me explain it to you in one word. Magic.
That's right, I said it. Magic. We finally have indisputable evidence that magic exists on our planet. There are simply some things that can't be explained by physics, or math, or history, and so we must turn to the only logical alternative. Magic. It makes sense, doesn't it? You take a slice of regular bread, put it into the contraption that swallows your bread into a land of the unknown, and several minutes later, your bread is gone, and the world of the unknown has replaced it with a wonderful slice of toast just for you! Magic!
Do not stand there and tell me I'm wrong. If you can do it with God, I can do it with toasters. So ha! Magic.
Saturday, July 28, 2007
The Moon
The Moon is a place of great mystery. There was a time when no one could tell you anything about it other than the fact that it was a big ball in sky. In fact, many people believed it was a place made entirely of cheese... Apparently we applied logic back then as often as we do now. That isn't fair of me, to make fun of people who believed the Moon was made entirely out of cheese, for today, I am going to explain to you how those few were in fact correct. But, before I begin, I must point out several common ideas about our moon. First, there is a cow that at some point jumped over the Moon. Second, there is a man up there actually in the Moon. Third, the Moon is made of cheese.
Alone, each of these ideas seem foolish. What we are missing, however, is the power of combination. Allow me to explain. The man that is apparently in the Moon is not any old man. Oh no. He's a farmer. He used to plan all his harvests by the weight of the Moon's movements. He was entirely dependent on the calender, watching the Moon every single night before he went to sleep to make sure he was on the correct schedule. If anything were off, he would immediately begin panicking, altering his plans around the lunar patterns. He became so hopeless dependent on the Moon that he simply couldn't live without it. The prospect of their being no moon orbiting Earth drove him mad. As time passed, he watched the Moon more and more. Soon, his crops began to suffer, but he did not notice. He started to stay up later, and sleep through the days so he could spend as much time around the Moon as possible. Then, one day, when he was so wrapped up in the Moon that he was fully convinced that no other place existed anywhere, he fell asleep, and awoke on the lunar surface where he lives even today.
His story does not end here. The very same morning his wife awoke to find her husband gone. She began to panic, and searched for him everywhere. When she could not find him, she sunk into a terrible sorrow. She, unlike her husband, did not let her desires get the better of her however. She continued to care for the farm, milking the cows every day and collecting the eggs from the chicken coop. But her job could not hide her tears. Every day she would visit the cows to milk them, and her face would be lined with droplets of her sorrow.
One day, when she walked in to milk the cows, her favourite cow, Daisy (as all great cows are named) turned to her and said "I can take you too him, if you wish." There was no shock in the woman's eyes, for you see, her depression had confused her and she was fully convinced she was dreaming. "Please, take me." she said.
And so she climbed onto Daisy's back, who broke into an incredible run and jumped off into the sky. Now, as we all know, it takes a great deal of thrust to break the Earth's gravitational pull. There is no living species that we know of that can simply jump into space, and so Daisy was forced to resort to alternate measures to achieve the altitude she desired. Ejecting all the milk she had within her, she soared off into space and circled the Moon. As she rounded the lunar surface, the woman dismounted and landed comfortably on the low gravity surface. Daisy gave yet another thrust from her udders and began to soar back to the surface of the Earth.
Now Daisy's milk which had thrust her into space had to go somewhere. As it floated through space, it was pulled lightly towards the low gravity of the Moon. There, it crashed hard onto the surface, covering every inch of the planet in milk. The farmer and his wife took it upon themselves to walk the entire surface, churning the milk, and then letting it mold into cheese.
And that, my friends, is how the cow jumped over the Moon, how the man got on the Moon, and why the Moon is in fact made of cheese. You can thank me later for unveiling this truth.
Alone, each of these ideas seem foolish. What we are missing, however, is the power of combination. Allow me to explain. The man that is apparently in the Moon is not any old man. Oh no. He's a farmer. He used to plan all his harvests by the weight of the Moon's movements. He was entirely dependent on the calender, watching the Moon every single night before he went to sleep to make sure he was on the correct schedule. If anything were off, he would immediately begin panicking, altering his plans around the lunar patterns. He became so hopeless dependent on the Moon that he simply couldn't live without it. The prospect of their being no moon orbiting Earth drove him mad. As time passed, he watched the Moon more and more. Soon, his crops began to suffer, but he did not notice. He started to stay up later, and sleep through the days so he could spend as much time around the Moon as possible. Then, one day, when he was so wrapped up in the Moon that he was fully convinced that no other place existed anywhere, he fell asleep, and awoke on the lunar surface where he lives even today.
His story does not end here. The very same morning his wife awoke to find her husband gone. She began to panic, and searched for him everywhere. When she could not find him, she sunk into a terrible sorrow. She, unlike her husband, did not let her desires get the better of her however. She continued to care for the farm, milking the cows every day and collecting the eggs from the chicken coop. But her job could not hide her tears. Every day she would visit the cows to milk them, and her face would be lined with droplets of her sorrow.
One day, when she walked in to milk the cows, her favourite cow, Daisy (as all great cows are named) turned to her and said "I can take you too him, if you wish." There was no shock in the woman's eyes, for you see, her depression had confused her and she was fully convinced she was dreaming. "Please, take me." she said.
And so she climbed onto Daisy's back, who broke into an incredible run and jumped off into the sky. Now, as we all know, it takes a great deal of thrust to break the Earth's gravitational pull. There is no living species that we know of that can simply jump into space, and so Daisy was forced to resort to alternate measures to achieve the altitude she desired. Ejecting all the milk she had within her, she soared off into space and circled the Moon. As she rounded the lunar surface, the woman dismounted and landed comfortably on the low gravity surface. Daisy gave yet another thrust from her udders and began to soar back to the surface of the Earth.
Now Daisy's milk which had thrust her into space had to go somewhere. As it floated through space, it was pulled lightly towards the low gravity of the Moon. There, it crashed hard onto the surface, covering every inch of the planet in milk. The farmer and his wife took it upon themselves to walk the entire surface, churning the milk, and then letting it mold into cheese.
And that, my friends, is how the cow jumped over the Moon, how the man got on the Moon, and why the Moon is in fact made of cheese. You can thank me later for unveiling this truth.
Friday, July 27, 2007
The Way It's Told
I remember growing up and having my parents tell me all the classic "truths" about the world. All people have some good in them. All people, even if it's very deep down, are beautiful. Liars are the worst kinds of people. The list, of course, goes on, but for the sake of this particular argument, I will leave it at those three. See, from the very beginning, my parents disproved one of those three, and by extension made me question all the others.
See, as I have grown and added my own opinions to the pot of information that was forced on me in my youth, I have come to take note of many valuable pools of truth. My parents, though they did not mean to at the time, proved as they spoke that they themselves are just like everyone else. They are liars. Everyone lies, and most of those people lie constantly. It doesn't make them bad; it makes them human.
Countless interactions with other members of my species have taught me never to trust anyone, even those I love. I say this not out of malice, but because of both the validity of the statement, and the experiences I have had to support it. Some people do have good in them, yes. In fact, I do believe that most people have good in them, and are controlled by that good for most of their lives. However, that good is not permanent. Evil is far more powerful than good could ever dream to be, and so while people are out doing thankless deeds of kindness, the evil within them begins to fester and grow. At someone point, everyone breaks. Everyone acts to better only themselves in a manor of selfish empowerment. It is just the truth of our species. Even those we love will hurt us, and most of the time their cuts run the deepest, and heal the slowest.
I do not say any of this to bring down your opinion of the world. I only speak what I am thinking today because recently, I have done the very things I just described. I allowed evil to get the better of my good, and I acted to hurt. I would say I'm sorry, but then that would make me a liar, and I would be continuing down the path of proving my ideas right. And no one wants that.
See, as I have grown and added my own opinions to the pot of information that was forced on me in my youth, I have come to take note of many valuable pools of truth. My parents, though they did not mean to at the time, proved as they spoke that they themselves are just like everyone else. They are liars. Everyone lies, and most of those people lie constantly. It doesn't make them bad; it makes them human.
Countless interactions with other members of my species have taught me never to trust anyone, even those I love. I say this not out of malice, but because of both the validity of the statement, and the experiences I have had to support it. Some people do have good in them, yes. In fact, I do believe that most people have good in them, and are controlled by that good for most of their lives. However, that good is not permanent. Evil is far more powerful than good could ever dream to be, and so while people are out doing thankless deeds of kindness, the evil within them begins to fester and grow. At someone point, everyone breaks. Everyone acts to better only themselves in a manor of selfish empowerment. It is just the truth of our species. Even those we love will hurt us, and most of the time their cuts run the deepest, and heal the slowest.
I do not say any of this to bring down your opinion of the world. I only speak what I am thinking today because recently, I have done the very things I just described. I allowed evil to get the better of my good, and I acted to hurt. I would say I'm sorry, but then that would make me a liar, and I would be continuing down the path of proving my ideas right. And no one wants that.
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Pro-Clone
In very recent years, there has been a lot of talk about the cloning process. Discussion is geared mainly towards what is appropriate, and what isn't. For example, it's acceptable to clone organs, but is it alright to clone an entire person? Are we allowed to make duplicates of an individual using base cells, or is this overstepping our moral boundaries? Where is the line drawn in what is acceptable, and what isn't?
I think it all comes down to the person or persons involved. Right now, cloning has its limits. For example, we can clone an exact genetic replica of someone, but we certainly can't give them all the memories that their clone parent has. They will look the same, but the process of life will shape them differently. Basically, you'd just have a look-alike. I'm cool with that. In fact, I'd be willing to submit myself to be cloned in this situation. Other people may not agree.
Where the button really begins to be pushed, however, is in the events of the future. What happens when we can clone an exact genetic replica of someone, and then input all the memories of the genetic parent? You would have two of exactly the same person walking around, shaped by exactly the same events, only living separate lives form the point after the duplicate was made. For me, this is a no brainier. Clone me! I am a little biased, given my position on the matter, but I believe several James' wandering around the planet is only going to make the place better. Think of everything I could do that I wouldn't be able to do alone!
For example, I could travel the world my entire life, AND raise a family while never moving. I could kill myself, and have it not be considered suicide, but murder. I could go tandem sky diving, alone! I could eat a portion that says "feeds four" and only use my own mouth and stomach to consume it. I could even form my own football team, with only James!
Seems like a pretty sweet deal to me. Have I swayed your opinion yet? I hope not. I'd like to be the only multiple person on the planet. It's okay to be jealous.
I think it all comes down to the person or persons involved. Right now, cloning has its limits. For example, we can clone an exact genetic replica of someone, but we certainly can't give them all the memories that their clone parent has. They will look the same, but the process of life will shape them differently. Basically, you'd just have a look-alike. I'm cool with that. In fact, I'd be willing to submit myself to be cloned in this situation. Other people may not agree.
Where the button really begins to be pushed, however, is in the events of the future. What happens when we can clone an exact genetic replica of someone, and then input all the memories of the genetic parent? You would have two of exactly the same person walking around, shaped by exactly the same events, only living separate lives form the point after the duplicate was made. For me, this is a no brainier. Clone me! I am a little biased, given my position on the matter, but I believe several James' wandering around the planet is only going to make the place better. Think of everything I could do that I wouldn't be able to do alone!
For example, I could travel the world my entire life, AND raise a family while never moving. I could kill myself, and have it not be considered suicide, but murder. I could go tandem sky diving, alone! I could eat a portion that says "feeds four" and only use my own mouth and stomach to consume it. I could even form my own football team, with only James!
Seems like a pretty sweet deal to me. Have I swayed your opinion yet? I hope not. I'd like to be the only multiple person on the planet. It's okay to be jealous.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Shenzen Miracle... or Not
I find it amusing how every time I start to believe that the human race isn't as stupid as it looks, someone goes ahead and does something that just slaps the dream right back into my face. It's as if people are trying to uproot my inner desire that we aren't all idiots. Apparently, my hope is wrong. This one, however, is far more enjoyable than most. This woman who I am about to describe could quite easily have set the bar for "new level of stupid". Shame she didn't lose her ability to pass on her genetic material, or else she could be up for a Darwin award.
I was reading the news today, catching up on worldly events, and I stumbled across a wonderful article about a woman in China who is currently going to court because of a failed operation to make her beautiful. The article its self worded it flawlessly. Sadly, I do not have the material within my reach, so allow me to summarize for you:
A woman who lived happily on mainland China went to Shenzen (NOTE: Remember this name) where she ran into a salesman who offered her an injection of "beauty gel". He promised her that this miracle gel, which was to be injected straight into her face, was guaranteed to shave 20 years off her appearance. It really was beauty cream to the finest! The woman accepted, took the shot, and later ran into a world of problems (surprise surprise!). Her hand stopped working. Then, shortly after that, a giant cancerous growth began forming in her cheek. If that wasn't enough, her whole body began to suffer with endless aches and pains to the point where she could hardly move. These symptoms continue on, even today, several years after her miracle gel backfired and bit her in the ass.
There are just so many things here I want to attack I simply don't know where to begin. I suppose I'll start with the most obvious. Shenzen. Anyone who lives in Hong Kong or China knows the following. Shenzen is a place for anything illegal. I have been there, several times, and I know not to trust anyone. See, Shenzen is basically a mall. That's really all it is. One giant mall where you can get anything that you shouldn't be able to get. They sell illegally burned DVD's and CD's, pretty much every single designer knockoff you could possibly want, countless numbers of electrical appliances that "fell off the back of the truck", and apparently, miracle healing gels. To sum it up, never trust anyone about anything in Shenzen. Stupid woman mistake number 1.
Stupid woman mistake number 2. Miracle aging gel? What the hell?! Who is that stupid? The guy who administered it didn't even have a sales license, yet alone a medical one! And besides, who is stupid enough to believe in a miracle anti-aging gel. Surely something like that would be massively publicized and the guy would be a multi-billionaire, not a bum selling shit out of a shack in Shenzen! Come on, there's a little something called common sense; maybe you've heard of it? Apparently not.
I'm sorry, but I don't think she deserves to win this court case. It's her own damn fault for being that stupid. The guy who tricked her: good work mate. It must be hell-a hard to find someone that incredibly stupid who would actually fall for your obviously bull shit promise of anti-aging gel. I hope the courts rule in your favour. Of course, this is China. Chances are you'll be shot, and your family will have to pay for the bullet. Tough break...
I was reading the news today, catching up on worldly events, and I stumbled across a wonderful article about a woman in China who is currently going to court because of a failed operation to make her beautiful. The article its self worded it flawlessly. Sadly, I do not have the material within my reach, so allow me to summarize for you:
A woman who lived happily on mainland China went to Shenzen (NOTE: Remember this name) where she ran into a salesman who offered her an injection of "beauty gel". He promised her that this miracle gel, which was to be injected straight into her face, was guaranteed to shave 20 years off her appearance. It really was beauty cream to the finest! The woman accepted, took the shot, and later ran into a world of problems (surprise surprise!). Her hand stopped working. Then, shortly after that, a giant cancerous growth began forming in her cheek. If that wasn't enough, her whole body began to suffer with endless aches and pains to the point where she could hardly move. These symptoms continue on, even today, several years after her miracle gel backfired and bit her in the ass.
There are just so many things here I want to attack I simply don't know where to begin. I suppose I'll start with the most obvious. Shenzen. Anyone who lives in Hong Kong or China knows the following. Shenzen is a place for anything illegal. I have been there, several times, and I know not to trust anyone. See, Shenzen is basically a mall. That's really all it is. One giant mall where you can get anything that you shouldn't be able to get. They sell illegally burned DVD's and CD's, pretty much every single designer knockoff you could possibly want, countless numbers of electrical appliances that "fell off the back of the truck", and apparently, miracle healing gels. To sum it up, never trust anyone about anything in Shenzen. Stupid woman mistake number 1.
Stupid woman mistake number 2. Miracle aging gel? What the hell?! Who is that stupid? The guy who administered it didn't even have a sales license, yet alone a medical one! And besides, who is stupid enough to believe in a miracle anti-aging gel. Surely something like that would be massively publicized and the guy would be a multi-billionaire, not a bum selling shit out of a shack in Shenzen! Come on, there's a little something called common sense; maybe you've heard of it? Apparently not.
I'm sorry, but I don't think she deserves to win this court case. It's her own damn fault for being that stupid. The guy who tricked her: good work mate. It must be hell-a hard to find someone that incredibly stupid who would actually fall for your obviously bull shit promise of anti-aging gel. I hope the courts rule in your favour. Of course, this is China. Chances are you'll be shot, and your family will have to pay for the bullet. Tough break...
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Key's to Happiness
Everyone has those people who influence their happiness. For me, that person is constantly changing. From day to day, I never really know who that person is going to be. There have been times when that person has remained the same for longer than usual. For example, my past girlfriends have held the key to my happiness for extremely long periods of time. Now, however, the keys to my happiness are being passed around a select number of people who know absolutely nothing about each other, nor do they even realize that they are the few who balance my happiness on the tips of their fingers.
I have always found it difficult to trust others. I am independent to the extreme, almost to the point where I would rather do everything myself. The idea of giving others power over my happiness is a very scary thought. It unnerves me, leaves me feeling vulnerable. But there is no way to avoid it, is there?
The question's for today are simple in the asking, but I expect they will not remain so in the response. Think hard for a second. For some of you, you will answer this without the slightest hesitation. For others, perhaps you won't even be able to draw from you unconscious mind the answers I seek. Who holds the key to your happiness right now? Are they using it responsibly? Do they even know?
I have always found it difficult to trust others. I am independent to the extreme, almost to the point where I would rather do everything myself. The idea of giving others power over my happiness is a very scary thought. It unnerves me, leaves me feeling vulnerable. But there is no way to avoid it, is there?
The question's for today are simple in the asking, but I expect they will not remain so in the response. Think hard for a second. For some of you, you will answer this without the slightest hesitation. For others, perhaps you won't even be able to draw from you unconscious mind the answers I seek. Who holds the key to your happiness right now? Are they using it responsibly? Do they even know?
Monday, July 23, 2007
Super-HIV
I read an article today about a new strand of HIV that is almost completely immune to our current methods of slowing the STI's (STD's) spread. It appears that this new strand of HIV will most likely become dominant in almost all future cases of HIV contractions. Basically, all the work we've done on HIV up until now; wasted.
This just sucks.
HIV is pretty shitty to begin with, but come on, invincible HIV! What the hell?! Who is doing this to us? What person is messing with genetics and sleeping around so much that they are creating Super-HIV. Whoever it is, they have a lot of explaining to do. Sex is too fun to have it spoiled by the fear of contracting unbeatable death.
There is one plus to this, however. It further proves me correct. All good things are eventually spoiled by something far worse than you could ever imagine. You just wait, we'll find a way to beat this unstoppable HIV, and then what will happen? All the penis' in the world will just drop off. The world sucks like that. It likes being a total bitch.
The moral of this post: stop sleeping around! I don't want my penis to drop off. Not one bit.
This just sucks.
HIV is pretty shitty to begin with, but come on, invincible HIV! What the hell?! Who is doing this to us? What person is messing with genetics and sleeping around so much that they are creating Super-HIV. Whoever it is, they have a lot of explaining to do. Sex is too fun to have it spoiled by the fear of contracting unbeatable death.
There is one plus to this, however. It further proves me correct. All good things are eventually spoiled by something far worse than you could ever imagine. You just wait, we'll find a way to beat this unstoppable HIV, and then what will happen? All the penis' in the world will just drop off. The world sucks like that. It likes being a total bitch.
The moral of this post: stop sleeping around! I don't want my penis to drop off. Not one bit.
Sunday, July 22, 2007
Hindered by Reading
What with the recent boom of the Harry Potter franchise, I have found myself wrapped up in a series of events I did not wish to be a part of. The newest book, of which I regrettably own three copies, has sucked in countless hundreds of thousands all across the globe. It is for this reason, that I too have begun reading.
I will admit, I started Harry Potter, and was not entertained. I am currently half-way through the book, and have put it down to entertain myself with more enjoyable literature. Ender's Game, for example, has sustained me through the past two days of forcing myself to read through Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Still, I must push onwards, for many people will be talking about it, and for some reason people seem to want my opinion of the book. It is a strange feeling, having people ask me what I think of something, for as far as my official qualifications extend, I am in no better position than you to comment. Still, I must fulfill my role as your friend, and respond in kind.
Expect a review of the book in a later post. Until then, I am sorry for not writing a more entertaining post. I have had little time to consider the world as I have been buried in literature. Alas, I shall be done with painful reading by this time tomorrow, and promise to return to my usual posting routine as soon as I have finished.
I will admit, I started Harry Potter, and was not entertained. I am currently half-way through the book, and have put it down to entertain myself with more enjoyable literature. Ender's Game, for example, has sustained me through the past two days of forcing myself to read through Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Still, I must push onwards, for many people will be talking about it, and for some reason people seem to want my opinion of the book. It is a strange feeling, having people ask me what I think of something, for as far as my official qualifications extend, I am in no better position than you to comment. Still, I must fulfill my role as your friend, and respond in kind.
Expect a review of the book in a later post. Until then, I am sorry for not writing a more entertaining post. I have had little time to consider the world as I have been buried in literature. Alas, I shall be done with painful reading by this time tomorrow, and promise to return to my usual posting routine as soon as I have finished.
Saturday, July 21, 2007
Studio Audience
Many comedies say at the beginning of their episode "filmed in front of a live studio audience". It's usually a good call to announce this little fact, because the laughs always seem so fake. It almost convinces you the laughter is genuine. Almost.
My question is this: What is the alternative? Why say "live" in the "live studio audience" part? I am seriously concerned that the comedy industry has in the past attempted some other form of studio audience that did not work, and so now they always say "live" so that you as a viewer know their audience is alive and well. Was there perhaps a time when Cheers filled its studio audience with dead people? I can't see how that's good marketing. Whoever came up with that idea was an idiot.
Of course, they don't have to be dead. Just not really what we would consider at the peak of being "live". I think a live studio audience is happy, lively, and excited to be there. This could lead to many different types of audiences that aren't live. For example, a room full of drunk people. The actors would make a joke, and the drunks might laugh, if they laugh at all, thirty seconds late. That wouldn't be good for the show at all. Perhaps they even rounded up a bunch of homeless people with promises of alcohol and fast food. Then you'd have an angry studio audience. That also wouldn't go down well.
What types of studio audiences do you think they tried before they reverted to "live studio audience"?
My question is this: What is the alternative? Why say "live" in the "live studio audience" part? I am seriously concerned that the comedy industry has in the past attempted some other form of studio audience that did not work, and so now they always say "live" so that you as a viewer know their audience is alive and well. Was there perhaps a time when Cheers filled its studio audience with dead people? I can't see how that's good marketing. Whoever came up with that idea was an idiot.
Of course, they don't have to be dead. Just not really what we would consider at the peak of being "live". I think a live studio audience is happy, lively, and excited to be there. This could lead to many different types of audiences that aren't live. For example, a room full of drunk people. The actors would make a joke, and the drunks might laugh, if they laugh at all, thirty seconds late. That wouldn't be good for the show at all. Perhaps they even rounded up a bunch of homeless people with promises of alcohol and fast food. Then you'd have an angry studio audience. That also wouldn't go down well.
What types of studio audiences do you think they tried before they reverted to "live studio audience"?
Friday, July 20, 2007
Time Travel
I have been watching all three of the Back to the Future movies over the past two days, and I must say, it has left me thinking a great deal about time travel. Now, according to our good 'ol present day genius Stephen Hawking, it is impossible to go back in time any further than the point in which the first time machine was created. I don't know why, but if he says so, I'm not going to argue. He's pretty smart, and I'd feel stupid trying even to formulate sentences around him. So, despite how much I love seeking proof, I'm going to let this one slide and just say "well that sucks."
Doesn't stop you thinking though, does it? What if we could go back in time as far as we wanted? What if you could go as far forward as you wanted? Would you do it? Would you do it still if there was no chance of ever coming back?
Personally, it would be an opportunity I simply wouldn't be able to pass up. I doubt I would ever even want to go backwards. I don't like going back. I'm one of those people who makes a decision and then takes the burdens of responsibility that goes along with it. So no, I probably wouldn't come back. I'd just skip through the ripples of time like a pebble hopping across the surface of a pond. I would touch down every several hundred years to watch the progress of mankind, check to see what we have advanced, where we have fallen. I would spend a year or two in odd locations, just as they appeared or caught my attention, but I would never stop. I would go on and on until the day I died, jumping through time and watching humanity grow. And if one day I did happen to stumble across the day that everything is destroyed, then so be it. I will die on that day, along with all others on our planet then.
But then that's me. I would love to see the world and how it changes over the next several thousand years. What about you?
Doesn't stop you thinking though, does it? What if we could go back in time as far as we wanted? What if you could go as far forward as you wanted? Would you do it? Would you do it still if there was no chance of ever coming back?
Personally, it would be an opportunity I simply wouldn't be able to pass up. I doubt I would ever even want to go backwards. I don't like going back. I'm one of those people who makes a decision and then takes the burdens of responsibility that goes along with it. So no, I probably wouldn't come back. I'd just skip through the ripples of time like a pebble hopping across the surface of a pond. I would touch down every several hundred years to watch the progress of mankind, check to see what we have advanced, where we have fallen. I would spend a year or two in odd locations, just as they appeared or caught my attention, but I would never stop. I would go on and on until the day I died, jumping through time and watching humanity grow. And if one day I did happen to stumble across the day that everything is destroyed, then so be it. I will die on that day, along with all others on our planet then.
But then that's me. I would love to see the world and how it changes over the next several thousand years. What about you?
Space is Big
You know what? Space is big. And we're not talking big, we're talking b-i-i-i-i-i-g. Really big. Huge. So big that it hurts my head to comprehend even a small fraction of it. Yea, it's that big. Bigger than Chuck Norris' ego. Yea, that big.
Makes you wonder why people say there isn't more life out there. I mean, it's big. There's a lot of stuff out there. Lots of stuff. I mean, just think about it. Space is endless right. It goes forever and ever in every direction. If it goes forever and ever in every direction, then the line of galaxies must go on forever and ever in every direction also. That means there's an infinite number of galaxies, and an infinite number of planets. Shit, if there isn't life out there in infinity, I'm gonna be really pissed.
I don't think it's a matter of "if" another species will find us. I think it's a matter of when. I mean, space is big. They could have a long way to travel. We could have a long way to travel. Who knows, we may run into them first. Perhaps some of them have already run into each other, and haven't found us yet.
I'm not too bothered about them being evil either. Self gain seems like a stupid reason to travel the universe, you know? Wipe us out, move along... seems stupid. Space is big. There are a lot of planets out there. They don't need ours. No, if we make contact with another species, it will be for advancing both of our races together. To better each other.
I guess the point I'm trying to make here is this: Space is big. Real big. Extremely big. Big big. I can't wait to meet whoever is out there.
Makes you wonder why people say there isn't more life out there. I mean, it's big. There's a lot of stuff out there. Lots of stuff. I mean, just think about it. Space is endless right. It goes forever and ever in every direction. If it goes forever and ever in every direction, then the line of galaxies must go on forever and ever in every direction also. That means there's an infinite number of galaxies, and an infinite number of planets. Shit, if there isn't life out there in infinity, I'm gonna be really pissed.
I don't think it's a matter of "if" another species will find us. I think it's a matter of when. I mean, space is big. They could have a long way to travel. We could have a long way to travel. Who knows, we may run into them first. Perhaps some of them have already run into each other, and haven't found us yet.
I'm not too bothered about them being evil either. Self gain seems like a stupid reason to travel the universe, you know? Wipe us out, move along... seems stupid. Space is big. There are a lot of planets out there. They don't need ours. No, if we make contact with another species, it will be for advancing both of our races together. To better each other.
I guess the point I'm trying to make here is this: Space is big. Real big. Extremely big. Big big. I can't wait to meet whoever is out there.
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Interest Alerts
It's important for people to rate their conversations. You can't have just one type of conversation, or one level of interest. It's important to stay entertained, and boring people just lack the ability to fulfill that need. That's why I've developed the James Method of Interest Alerts. Feel free to adopt it as your own.
The alerts are as follows:
Green Alert: I am highly interested. Everything you are saying is currently holding me at or above 95% of my attention span. You have me fully woven into whatever it is you are saying, and I want to hear as much as I can. Chances are good I'll sit quietly and let you talk for long periods of time because I am that interested in what you have to say.
Amber Alert: I am at that point where the conversation can go either way. The next words that come out of your mouth are very important to my future attention. If you say something to spark my interest, we may slip up to Green Alert. But, if you slip up and stumble, we may end up dropping down a level to...
Red Alert: You are boring me to death. It is absolutely vital that you change the topic of conversation immediately. You are dangerously close to having the current level of respect i have for you plummet. Abort conversation immediately.
Black Alert: I am so completely uninterested that I can't even begin to express how angry I am that you subjected me to this conversation. How dare you waste valuable minutes of my life on such a pointless conversation! Who do you think you are? What gives you the right to throw my life away like that?
Those are my alerts. Use them as you wish, and expect me to inform you of what alert level our conversation is currently producing.
The alerts are as follows:
Green Alert: I am highly interested. Everything you are saying is currently holding me at or above 95% of my attention span. You have me fully woven into whatever it is you are saying, and I want to hear as much as I can. Chances are good I'll sit quietly and let you talk for long periods of time because I am that interested in what you have to say.
Amber Alert: I am at that point where the conversation can go either way. The next words that come out of your mouth are very important to my future attention. If you say something to spark my interest, we may slip up to Green Alert. But, if you slip up and stumble, we may end up dropping down a level to...
Red Alert: You are boring me to death. It is absolutely vital that you change the topic of conversation immediately. You are dangerously close to having the current level of respect i have for you plummet. Abort conversation immediately.
Black Alert: I am so completely uninterested that I can't even begin to express how angry I am that you subjected me to this conversation. How dare you waste valuable minutes of my life on such a pointless conversation! Who do you think you are? What gives you the right to throw my life away like that?
Those are my alerts. Use them as you wish, and expect me to inform you of what alert level our conversation is currently producing.
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Sand
Sand has one purpose on this planet; to piss you off. No matter where it is, no matter what it's doing, no matter if it exists in air, water, or rock; sand exists only to piss you off. A single grain of sand can do unthinkable damage. For instance, it can get in your eye and cause unbearable pain, you could get it stuck under a nail and have that constant feeling of something bothering you that is entirely unreachable, or it could even get in your ear and cause that strange tingling and muffled sound sensation that one receives whenever their auditory canal is blocked.
That's not even the half of it. Sand doesn't just travel alone. Oh no. Sand travels in swarms. At beaches, in deserts, construction zones; really at any dry area you'll find sand, and lots of it. This is where it gets you. It aims for your shoes, more directly for your socks, and in it goes, lodging its self between the fabric of your socks so that you can always feel it, no matter what you do. It will then proceed to sit in the sock for day after day, wash after wash. The only way to kill the sand all together is to throw the sock away. Of course, by this time the shoes you were wearing are now filled with sand also, and as soon as you slip a new pair of socks into those shoes they immediately assimilate the remaining sand. Then you have to throw out another pair of socks.
Sand also targets the areas of your body one prefers to keep moderately private. It seems to be attracted to these regions for some reason. It loves to just get up in your swimsuit and sit there, unmoving and unyielding. It'll just sit there and bug you all day long, drive you so insane you feel you may actually hurt someone or something if you can't find a way to get the sand out from inside your shorts. Puppy dogs and kitty cats beware during this form of sand invasion; cuteness is no saving grace.
Then, once it has finished infiltrating your shorts and your socks, the sand targets your hair. For days after any visit to a sandy area, you will always find tiny grains of sand in the bottom of your shower. Always. It's like the grains reproduce on your scalp. It's awful.
Sand is evil, and so are places that allow it to gather in large numbers. Beaches, deserts, and dust bowls; I curse you.
That's not even the half of it. Sand doesn't just travel alone. Oh no. Sand travels in swarms. At beaches, in deserts, construction zones; really at any dry area you'll find sand, and lots of it. This is where it gets you. It aims for your shoes, more directly for your socks, and in it goes, lodging its self between the fabric of your socks so that you can always feel it, no matter what you do. It will then proceed to sit in the sock for day after day, wash after wash. The only way to kill the sand all together is to throw the sock away. Of course, by this time the shoes you were wearing are now filled with sand also, and as soon as you slip a new pair of socks into those shoes they immediately assimilate the remaining sand. Then you have to throw out another pair of socks.
Sand also targets the areas of your body one prefers to keep moderately private. It seems to be attracted to these regions for some reason. It loves to just get up in your swimsuit and sit there, unmoving and unyielding. It'll just sit there and bug you all day long, drive you so insane you feel you may actually hurt someone or something if you can't find a way to get the sand out from inside your shorts. Puppy dogs and kitty cats beware during this form of sand invasion; cuteness is no saving grace.
Then, once it has finished infiltrating your shorts and your socks, the sand targets your hair. For days after any visit to a sandy area, you will always find tiny grains of sand in the bottom of your shower. Always. It's like the grains reproduce on your scalp. It's awful.
Sand is evil, and so are places that allow it to gather in large numbers. Beaches, deserts, and dust bowls; I curse you.
Monday, July 16, 2007
Floodgates
Beer is fun. There are just so many things about beer that make it fun. For instance, it is foamy. Foam is always fun. You can make a bubble beard out of it, or perhaps if you are bald you could put it on your head as fake hair. Beer also makes your head dizzy. Dizzy heads are fun, for both the one experiencing the sensation and all those watching. In truth, beer only has one drawback: Excessive urination.
Why is it all great things come tied to something unimaginably annoying? I would like, just once, to find something in this world that makes me completely happy but at the same time doesn't make me say "God dammit, if only every time I [insert event here] I didn't have to do deal with [insert annoyance here]!" Don't get me wrong, I'm a fan of urinating. I like the feeling of emptying my bladder; it's refreshing. I just don't like doing it every ten minutes. It really interferes with drinking time if I am constantly getting up to pee.
Really, the situation could be remedied if I just did all my drinking on the toilet. I could drop the pants, get out a good book (probably one with lots of pictures... alcohol can be tricky on the mind), and then just sit, read, and drink my beer, never being forced to get up to go pee. The only drawback to this is that I would have to drink alone, and that just makes me feel too much like an alcoholic. Perhaps I could do it in a public restroom. Then people would be constantly coming and going, and I wouldn't be alone. I'm sure if I offered a handle of cheap whiskey to a bum on the street, he'd come sit in the next stall and drink along side me.
Of course, this is just wishful thinking. I have developed another method of control. It's not as good, and no where near as fun as public restroom drinking with hobo's, but it works. Cross your legs. That's right, cross them. Then drink. Hold those legs crossed for as long as you can, cause the second those flood gates are opened, it's Niagara Falls every ten minutes. If you can hold off the bust, that's your best bet. Try it, it works.
Or drop me a line. We'll go sit in a public restroom and be drinking buddies. You know, whatever tickles you.
Why is it all great things come tied to something unimaginably annoying? I would like, just once, to find something in this world that makes me completely happy but at the same time doesn't make me say "God dammit, if only every time I [insert event here] I didn't have to do deal with [insert annoyance here]!" Don't get me wrong, I'm a fan of urinating. I like the feeling of emptying my bladder; it's refreshing. I just don't like doing it every ten minutes. It really interferes with drinking time if I am constantly getting up to pee.
Really, the situation could be remedied if I just did all my drinking on the toilet. I could drop the pants, get out a good book (probably one with lots of pictures... alcohol can be tricky on the mind), and then just sit, read, and drink my beer, never being forced to get up to go pee. The only drawback to this is that I would have to drink alone, and that just makes me feel too much like an alcoholic. Perhaps I could do it in a public restroom. Then people would be constantly coming and going, and I wouldn't be alone. I'm sure if I offered a handle of cheap whiskey to a bum on the street, he'd come sit in the next stall and drink along side me.
Of course, this is just wishful thinking. I have developed another method of control. It's not as good, and no where near as fun as public restroom drinking with hobo's, but it works. Cross your legs. That's right, cross them. Then drink. Hold those legs crossed for as long as you can, cause the second those flood gates are opened, it's Niagara Falls every ten minutes. If you can hold off the bust, that's your best bet. Try it, it works.
Or drop me a line. We'll go sit in a public restroom and be drinking buddies. You know, whatever tickles you.
Saturday, July 14, 2007
Talking to Myself
I have a problem. I have started talking to myself. I know, first step to becoming crazy, right? Well, there's my problem. I know it's crazy, and yet, I still do it. It's almost as if I choose to do it. For instance, when I talk to myself, I say half the conversation out loud, and then inside my head responds to whatever it was I said out loud. Basically, it looks like I'm talking on my cell phone with a bluetooth headset in my ear.
The biggest problem I'm having with this whole talking to myself thing is the fact that both sides of the conversation know how crazy it is. For instance, if I say something to me, inside my head will usually say back "you're talking to yourself again." Usually I ignore this and just keep going, after which time inside James just goes ahead and argues with me. That's usually what he does. He argues with me. We either fight, or inside James comforts me.
I'm concerned. I don't want to be crazy, but I get the feeling I'm heading off in that direction very slowly. I like my brain, and I like conscious thought. I'd rather not lose that to the subconscious ravings of my inner conversations. Bad bad news, this.
On the bright side, I'm great company for myself.
The biggest problem I'm having with this whole talking to myself thing is the fact that both sides of the conversation know how crazy it is. For instance, if I say something to me, inside my head will usually say back "you're talking to yourself again." Usually I ignore this and just keep going, after which time inside James just goes ahead and argues with me. That's usually what he does. He argues with me. We either fight, or inside James comforts me.
I'm concerned. I don't want to be crazy, but I get the feeling I'm heading off in that direction very slowly. I like my brain, and I like conscious thought. I'd rather not lose that to the subconscious ravings of my inner conversations. Bad bad news, this.
On the bright side, I'm great company for myself.
Friday, July 13, 2007
Bad Luck
Superstition is a funny thing, especially for those of us who are not superstitious. I don't doubt for even a second that superstition, for those who believe in it, is a terrible terrible burden, but for the rest of us it's rather comical.
I personally have some questions regarding the whole "bad luck" part of the superstitious nature. For example, the whole "putting up an umbrella in a house" thing. Who decided this and why? It's an umbrella. A man made object that is designed, built, and tested under a roof. I just don't see how opening an umbrella inside can bring me bad luck. Also, breaking a mirror. Why do I get punished for breaking my own reflection, but if I drop a glass bottle (which is basically the same exact material, except a mirror has a reflective sheet over it) I am not punished in the least. The walking underneath ladders thing I understand. Handymen and painters up on ladders carry some dangerous tools, and I can just see a superstitious idiot walking along under a ladder and a paint can falls on his head, to which he immediately exclaims: "It must be bad luck walking under ladders!" No, you moron, it's just dangerous. Don't do it.
I've been testing this bad luck theory. I call it a theory, but it really isn't is it. If anything, it's a hypothesis. One that has been proven false. See, the way the scientific method works is a hypothesis must be submitted to many of the same tests. If it then succeeds in them all (or most, because we must make room for human error), then the hypothesis is elevated to a theory. This bad luck hypothesis has yet to overcome all of the tests. In fact, from what I've noticed about it, the end result is entirely based on what you believed before you went into the test to begin with. We need a neutral party to test just how much bad luck you get by breaking a mirror.
I say we use toddlers. Let's put them in a room full of hammers, mirrors, and holes. Then we'll see what happens. If they can navigate the mirror room without falling in holes after they break a mirror, then obviously, the bad luck hypothesis is false. If they all fall in holes after breaking mirrors, but didn't fall in holes before, then I'd say it's true. If they just have no rhyme or reason as to when they fall into holes and when they don't, the test is inconclusive, and we'll have to just admit it's all in our heads.
Come now, we have work to do! Off to find toddlers!
I personally have some questions regarding the whole "bad luck" part of the superstitious nature. For example, the whole "putting up an umbrella in a house" thing. Who decided this and why? It's an umbrella. A man made object that is designed, built, and tested under a roof. I just don't see how opening an umbrella inside can bring me bad luck. Also, breaking a mirror. Why do I get punished for breaking my own reflection, but if I drop a glass bottle (which is basically the same exact material, except a mirror has a reflective sheet over it) I am not punished in the least. The walking underneath ladders thing I understand. Handymen and painters up on ladders carry some dangerous tools, and I can just see a superstitious idiot walking along under a ladder and a paint can falls on his head, to which he immediately exclaims: "It must be bad luck walking under ladders!" No, you moron, it's just dangerous. Don't do it.
I've been testing this bad luck theory. I call it a theory, but it really isn't is it. If anything, it's a hypothesis. One that has been proven false. See, the way the scientific method works is a hypothesis must be submitted to many of the same tests. If it then succeeds in them all (or most, because we must make room for human error), then the hypothesis is elevated to a theory. This bad luck hypothesis has yet to overcome all of the tests. In fact, from what I've noticed about it, the end result is entirely based on what you believed before you went into the test to begin with. We need a neutral party to test just how much bad luck you get by breaking a mirror.
I say we use toddlers. Let's put them in a room full of hammers, mirrors, and holes. Then we'll see what happens. If they can navigate the mirror room without falling in holes after they break a mirror, then obviously, the bad luck hypothesis is false. If they all fall in holes after breaking mirrors, but didn't fall in holes before, then I'd say it's true. If they just have no rhyme or reason as to when they fall into holes and when they don't, the test is inconclusive, and we'll have to just admit it's all in our heads.
Come now, we have work to do! Off to find toddlers!
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Puzzle Building
Relationships of all kinds are built on a number of factors. Each factor is a piece of the emotional puzzle that is a relationship, and each contributing piece helps build up the final image. If all the pieces go together, and all the joints are sealed, your thousands of tiny factors become one beautiful picture. The problem: the boxing company accidentally gave you half the pieces to the "guy" puzzle and half the pieces to the "girl" puzzle. Sucks to be you.
This is how I've come to view relationships. They are a puzzle that has gone horribly horribly wrong. To begin with, everything is always fine. You dump out all the pieces, sifting through them one by one, and slowly you start putting everything together. As the months or years of building this puzzle go by, you start to notice that something isn't right. Not everything is coming together as it should be. Then, as you spend more time together building that puzzle of a relationship, it finally happens. You both realize, not always at the same time, that you are building two entirely different puzzles.
This is where relationships diverge. There are two ways to deal with this, and neither of them are very pretty.
There are the perfectionists, who sadly will never be able to sustain a relationship, healthy or not. These people will realize that their two halves of the puzzle are different and immediately stop building it. They'll run away from their work, taking their half with them in hope of one day finding the person who happens to own the other half of their puzzle. Bad news? There is no other half.
Then there's the improvisers. Their two halves of the puzzle become a challenge. It is no longer about building the same puzzle, but rather finding a way to jam the pieces together so hard that they will be forced to form one large, usually jumbled puzzle. There will be points where the halves are going to look awful together, and a lot of the time the pieces that boarder each other will encounter a lot of friction, but in the end, these people will share something great. They will have an entire, completed puzzle; one they built themselves and together. Bad news? It's gonna be ugly.
Which are you?
This is how I've come to view relationships. They are a puzzle that has gone horribly horribly wrong. To begin with, everything is always fine. You dump out all the pieces, sifting through them one by one, and slowly you start putting everything together. As the months or years of building this puzzle go by, you start to notice that something isn't right. Not everything is coming together as it should be. Then, as you spend more time together building that puzzle of a relationship, it finally happens. You both realize, not always at the same time, that you are building two entirely different puzzles.
This is where relationships diverge. There are two ways to deal with this, and neither of them are very pretty.
There are the perfectionists, who sadly will never be able to sustain a relationship, healthy or not. These people will realize that their two halves of the puzzle are different and immediately stop building it. They'll run away from their work, taking their half with them in hope of one day finding the person who happens to own the other half of their puzzle. Bad news? There is no other half.
Then there's the improvisers. Their two halves of the puzzle become a challenge. It is no longer about building the same puzzle, but rather finding a way to jam the pieces together so hard that they will be forced to form one large, usually jumbled puzzle. There will be points where the halves are going to look awful together, and a lot of the time the pieces that boarder each other will encounter a lot of friction, but in the end, these people will share something great. They will have an entire, completed puzzle; one they built themselves and together. Bad news? It's gonna be ugly.
Which are you?
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Moral Compass 3
And so it becomes that time of day again that we all sit around together and ask a series of questions that have no purpose but to shatter your own preconceived notion of what is good for society, and more so what you would do to reach that good. That's right, it's another day of playing with your Moral Compass, and in turn another day of great fun for James' everywhere. Today's question is one designed to test how you judge human life. Here's the setup:
You are in a room with three other people. They are all very different from eachother, but you know nothing of them but what they are wearing. Of the four of you, three will never be leaving the room you are currently standing in. The choice you must make is who stays, and who goes.
Here's what you know: One of the people is a young pregnant woman. She has multiple scars on her face, neck, and arms. Her hair is ragged, and her cloths are cheap. Another of the individuals is dressed in full military uniform. He is very young, very handsome, and is holding himself in perfect calm. He also has a very large number of medals pinned to his chest. The final of the three, excluding yourself, is wearing an extremely expensive suit. He has a briefcase, two cell phones attached to his belt, and is currently scribbling down a note about something to someone. None of them know that they are about to die. You must pick who lives, and who dies, but before you do, there is one more piece of information you need to know. One of the people in the room has murdered their spouse and two children.
Armed with this knowledge, who do you kill? The young pregnant woman, the apparent soldier, or the well dressed and apparently busy man. Of all the information you are given, the only thing you know for certain is that the murderer isn't you. Who's life do you spare? Do you save yourself, or perhaps sacrifice your own life for someone else.
Who gets to live? Who do you sentence to death? Why?
Discuss.
You are in a room with three other people. They are all very different from eachother, but you know nothing of them but what they are wearing. Of the four of you, three will never be leaving the room you are currently standing in. The choice you must make is who stays, and who goes.
Here's what you know: One of the people is a young pregnant woman. She has multiple scars on her face, neck, and arms. Her hair is ragged, and her cloths are cheap. Another of the individuals is dressed in full military uniform. He is very young, very handsome, and is holding himself in perfect calm. He also has a very large number of medals pinned to his chest. The final of the three, excluding yourself, is wearing an extremely expensive suit. He has a briefcase, two cell phones attached to his belt, and is currently scribbling down a note about something to someone. None of them know that they are about to die. You must pick who lives, and who dies, but before you do, there is one more piece of information you need to know. One of the people in the room has murdered their spouse and two children.
Armed with this knowledge, who do you kill? The young pregnant woman, the apparent soldier, or the well dressed and apparently busy man. Of all the information you are given, the only thing you know for certain is that the murderer isn't you. Who's life do you spare? Do you save yourself, or perhaps sacrifice your own life for someone else.
Who gets to live? Who do you sentence to death? Why?
Discuss.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
God's Cockroach
Crickets are basically God's cockroaches. They look nicer, they are far more athletic, and they support the commercial food business keeping our economy in check. I say this because the area where I am currently residing has become burial ground for crickets. I'm assuming they swarmed here to pass on their genetic material, but instead, all they are getting is a nice big plate of deadness.
I'm assuming this is because of all of the recent construction. See, much of my school and the surrounding area has expanded rapidly in the past six months. Many fields have vanished, and buildings have sprung up to replace them. I made my semi-annual trip to McDonald's the other day, which is constructed smack in the middle of a field next to the freeway. Apparently, the crickets wanted some roughage also because the whole expanse of the drive-through wall (which is usually white brick) was black with crickets.
Once I had confirmed they supported the economy, my cockroach parallel began to form. Cockroaches are the work of the devil. They are everything disgusting in the world. It's like all the nasty of every creature is combined together to form one ultra-nasty "uggo". They're awful. Crickets, on the other hand, are just a prettier, cleaner bug with better taste. Cockroaches eat anything and nothing. Crickets apparently like McDonald's. I haven't seen crickets hanging around any other stores, and McDonald's is just a perfect symbol for the free enterprise economy. To me, that just screams "freedom". I like bugs that support my political views.
Also, crickets are jumpers. Cockroaches (some of them) fly. That makes them lazy. Crickets have huge hind legs that they throw themselves into the air with. That makes them athletic. They work. As far as I'm concerned, other bugs should look up to them and follow in their footsteps. If all bugs were willing to put forth the effort the crickets are, we may be able to get along with them better.
Finally, crickets are prettier. Their entire physical design is just so smooth and aerodynamic. They look like little bullets! Cockroaches look like shields. Fat lot of good that does them- stepping on them still crushes them to nothing. Crickets can jump right out from under my foot before I step on them. Their bullet design is useful. The cockroach shield design isn't.
I think it's only fair we give crickets the respect they deserve. I mean, they're out there busting their asses day in and day out just to get a bite of a Big Mac. Why not help them out?
I'm assuming this is because of all of the recent construction. See, much of my school and the surrounding area has expanded rapidly in the past six months. Many fields have vanished, and buildings have sprung up to replace them. I made my semi-annual trip to McDonald's the other day, which is constructed smack in the middle of a field next to the freeway. Apparently, the crickets wanted some roughage also because the whole expanse of the drive-through wall (which is usually white brick) was black with crickets.
Once I had confirmed they supported the economy, my cockroach parallel began to form. Cockroaches are the work of the devil. They are everything disgusting in the world. It's like all the nasty of every creature is combined together to form one ultra-nasty "uggo". They're awful. Crickets, on the other hand, are just a prettier, cleaner bug with better taste. Cockroaches eat anything and nothing. Crickets apparently like McDonald's. I haven't seen crickets hanging around any other stores, and McDonald's is just a perfect symbol for the free enterprise economy. To me, that just screams "freedom". I like bugs that support my political views.
Also, crickets are jumpers. Cockroaches (some of them) fly. That makes them lazy. Crickets have huge hind legs that they throw themselves into the air with. That makes them athletic. They work. As far as I'm concerned, other bugs should look up to them and follow in their footsteps. If all bugs were willing to put forth the effort the crickets are, we may be able to get along with them better.
Finally, crickets are prettier. Their entire physical design is just so smooth and aerodynamic. They look like little bullets! Cockroaches look like shields. Fat lot of good that does them- stepping on them still crushes them to nothing. Crickets can jump right out from under my foot before I step on them. Their bullet design is useful. The cockroach shield design isn't.
I think it's only fair we give crickets the respect they deserve. I mean, they're out there busting their asses day in and day out just to get a bite of a Big Mac. Why not help them out?
Monday, July 9, 2007
Metaphoric Conversation
Metaphors are great. They have this incredible ability to say something and mean absolutely nothing of what they just said. It's like telling someone "I like cheese" and expecting them to interpret that as "Doctors are smart". I like it when word structure lies to my face and gets away with it.
There are only two types of people when it comes to metaphors. There are those who love them, and those who hate them. There's no in between. I happen to love them. I have been close to several people who hate them. That causes problems, because throughout the years that I have been honing my writing skills, I have become better and better at using metaphors. I incorporate them into almost all forms of conversation. I do it on accident now. It's hard to step backwards from metaphors when I have been using them for so long.
I am often confused by those people who don't enjoy metaphors. There are very few of them out there who can actually explain to me why they don't like them. "They are annoying" is the most common response I get. That or "I like to know what you are saying". Fair enough. But the beauty of a metaphor is that you can make up whatever the hell you want from what I'm saying. It doesn't even have to make sense! That's what makes it great!
See, here's how you do it. If I were to say to you "The wind is the song of my soul, competing only with the hum of the bees in my heart," that could mean absolutely anything! See, I know what it means to me, but if an editor would read it, or a critique, the could take it a completely different way. For example, to them it could mean that my favourite weather patterns are windy days because they make my heart feel warm and fuzzy. I won't tell you what it really means. That's for me. But see, that's the best part of metaphors; I can be completely honest with you, and you'll never even know what I'm saying.
Try it. It'll grow on you, I promise.
There are only two types of people when it comes to metaphors. There are those who love them, and those who hate them. There's no in between. I happen to love them. I have been close to several people who hate them. That causes problems, because throughout the years that I have been honing my writing skills, I have become better and better at using metaphors. I incorporate them into almost all forms of conversation. I do it on accident now. It's hard to step backwards from metaphors when I have been using them for so long.
I am often confused by those people who don't enjoy metaphors. There are very few of them out there who can actually explain to me why they don't like them. "They are annoying" is the most common response I get. That or "I like to know what you are saying". Fair enough. But the beauty of a metaphor is that you can make up whatever the hell you want from what I'm saying. It doesn't even have to make sense! That's what makes it great!
See, here's how you do it. If I were to say to you "The wind is the song of my soul, competing only with the hum of the bees in my heart," that could mean absolutely anything! See, I know what it means to me, but if an editor would read it, or a critique, the could take it a completely different way. For example, to them it could mean that my favourite weather patterns are windy days because they make my heart feel warm and fuzzy. I won't tell you what it really means. That's for me. But see, that's the best part of metaphors; I can be completely honest with you, and you'll never even know what I'm saying.
Try it. It'll grow on you, I promise.
Sunday, July 8, 2007
Emotional Perception
Since I have finished with Introduction to Psychology, I have found myself with more questions than answers. You would think the learning process would bring me answers, but when it comes down to psychology, I couldn't suppress this sneaky suspicion that with every answer you get, you are also given a handful of more questions. You can seek answers to these questions if you wish, but the second you grab a hold of one, you find it is attached to another twenty questions. I'm the type of person who needs answers. I don't like not knowing something. If the answer is out there, I simply can't justify not seeking it. With psychology, this just gets me in a world of trouble.
Close to the end of the semester, we had a lecture based on how people deal with changes in their lives. People have a standard level of happiness. As a whole, we don't stray from it very well. We can get very happy or very sad, but in the end, we always return to our default level of joy. For example, if you were to win the lottery, you would obviously be very excited and full of happiness for some time, but as you got used to that life, you would slowly return to your default level of happy until the fact that you are a multimillionaire no longer satisfies you. It works in the reverse also. If you lose both of your legs in a car crash, you'll most likely be very very depressed for some time. As your life continues, and you begin to realize that this is who you are, your body returns to the default happiness level once again.
Those are the answers. Here are my questions.
Do we ever really get better or worse? The way it is taught is we have a certain level of happiness that we return to no matter what, but is that entirely true? It seems more likely to me that we simply take that happiness, or lack of happiness, to become our new default level of joy. Perhaps the bar simply shifts, allowing those who lost their legs in car accidents to accept that this is their new life. They may not be happy, but this is the only level of happiness that they now know, and so they adopt it as their normal level of joy.
This leads to more answers.
The human mind cannot remember emotion in memory. How it works is this: we store memories in groups. Memories that made us feel a certain way group together. Memories of joy all stick together, usually in certain levels. If something made us feel very happy, it is stored with other memories that made us feel very happy. Close by, we'll store memories that made us somewhat happy, and then close to those we'll store memories that just made us a little happy. This works the same for memories of when we felt bad. We clump them, but we cannot actually store emotion in our memory data bank.
And now we're back to questions.
If we can't remember emotion, then how do we ever really know how happy we were before? We store things away in memories by clumping similar emotions together. Think back for a minute during times right after something terrible happened to you. Didn't everything else just suck back then? It seems that everything was damaged, all your memories stored on a low level of emotional joy. Perhaps those things weren't as bad as your remember them, but because everything else sucked, you are storing them on a lower level.
This brings me back to my emotional perception. If we have no way of storing emotion other than through clumping similar memories, how do we even know how happy we really were? If we just readjust the bar based on where our default happiness currently lies, how do we know that five years ago, we weren't 100 times happier than we are now? We don't. We have adjusted, and so even though our life is now 100 times worse than it was, we have simply set this as our standard level of happiness, and so we are grouping memories together that should really not be grouped together.
See what I mean by questions and answers? Prove me wrong if you can. I don't much like the idea that we settle simply because we don't know any better, and would be happy to alter my perspective.
Worst part? It actually makes sense.
Close to the end of the semester, we had a lecture based on how people deal with changes in their lives. People have a standard level of happiness. As a whole, we don't stray from it very well. We can get very happy or very sad, but in the end, we always return to our default level of joy. For example, if you were to win the lottery, you would obviously be very excited and full of happiness for some time, but as you got used to that life, you would slowly return to your default level of happy until the fact that you are a multimillionaire no longer satisfies you. It works in the reverse also. If you lose both of your legs in a car crash, you'll most likely be very very depressed for some time. As your life continues, and you begin to realize that this is who you are, your body returns to the default happiness level once again.
Those are the answers. Here are my questions.
Do we ever really get better or worse? The way it is taught is we have a certain level of happiness that we return to no matter what, but is that entirely true? It seems more likely to me that we simply take that happiness, or lack of happiness, to become our new default level of joy. Perhaps the bar simply shifts, allowing those who lost their legs in car accidents to accept that this is their new life. They may not be happy, but this is the only level of happiness that they now know, and so they adopt it as their normal level of joy.
This leads to more answers.
The human mind cannot remember emotion in memory. How it works is this: we store memories in groups. Memories that made us feel a certain way group together. Memories of joy all stick together, usually in certain levels. If something made us feel very happy, it is stored with other memories that made us feel very happy. Close by, we'll store memories that made us somewhat happy, and then close to those we'll store memories that just made us a little happy. This works the same for memories of when we felt bad. We clump them, but we cannot actually store emotion in our memory data bank.
And now we're back to questions.
If we can't remember emotion, then how do we ever really know how happy we were before? We store things away in memories by clumping similar emotions together. Think back for a minute during times right after something terrible happened to you. Didn't everything else just suck back then? It seems that everything was damaged, all your memories stored on a low level of emotional joy. Perhaps those things weren't as bad as your remember them, but because everything else sucked, you are storing them on a lower level.
This brings me back to my emotional perception. If we have no way of storing emotion other than through clumping similar memories, how do we even know how happy we really were? If we just readjust the bar based on where our default happiness currently lies, how do we know that five years ago, we weren't 100 times happier than we are now? We don't. We have adjusted, and so even though our life is now 100 times worse than it was, we have simply set this as our standard level of happiness, and so we are grouping memories together that should really not be grouped together.
See what I mean by questions and answers? Prove me wrong if you can. I don't much like the idea that we settle simply because we don't know any better, and would be happy to alter my perspective.
Worst part? It actually makes sense.
Saturday, July 7, 2007
Is It Cheese?
Something very strange is happening inside my refrigerator right now. In fact, it is bothering me to no measurable end. See, I am a fan of dairy products. A big fan of dairy products. I go through a gallon of milk in three days, a brick of cheese is lucky to make it a week, yogurts are gone 15 days before they expire (for those who don't shop for yogurts often, that's about 3 days after I buy them). I am in fact such a large fan of dairy that I have stopped taking my medication simply because it won't let me eat or drink dairy products 2 hours before or after consuming the medicine.
It is this love for dairy that has led me to my strange discovery, and it is my love for cheese that worries me so much about this current mystery. What has happened is this. I have been living in this apartment for five weeks now. On my first day moving in, I filled the fridge. Amongst my purchases were Kraft American Singles and a brick of Kraft Sharp Cheddar. It turns out I don't like Kraft Sharp Cheddar, so it ended up sitting in my fridge until it grew mold. That took about a week. Here's the mystery. The Kraft Singles have been sitting in there for five weeks as of today, and they don't have a single freckle of mold forming anywhere on them!
I noticed this two weeks ago, and so to speed up the process, I took a single out of the wrapper and left it on the bottom shelf. Nothing happened. No mold, no condensation, nothing. It is just a piece of cheese sitting on the bottom shelf of a fridge. Last week I bought more cheese (Crackerbarrel sharp cheddar if you are interested). I cut a small square off and placed it on top of the Kraft single. The Crackerbarrel had mold growing on it within three days. Today, the whole square is nice and moldy. Here's the best part. The mold stops the second it gets to the Kraft Single!
What the hell are Kraft Singles made out of?! It can't possibly be dairy, because if it were, mold wouldn't be so scared of it. It isn't cheese, that much is certain. I mean, it doesn't even really taste like cheese. It's orange, but that's about the only parallel I can draw. So if it isn't dairy, and it isn't cheese, what is it?
See, it's a mystery. Help me solve it. Help me discover the truth about Kraft Singles. I'm already looking into whether or not they were produced by aliens- pick a hypothesis, and research into it. This problem needs to be solved!
It is this love for dairy that has led me to my strange discovery, and it is my love for cheese that worries me so much about this current mystery. What has happened is this. I have been living in this apartment for five weeks now. On my first day moving in, I filled the fridge. Amongst my purchases were Kraft American Singles and a brick of Kraft Sharp Cheddar. It turns out I don't like Kraft Sharp Cheddar, so it ended up sitting in my fridge until it grew mold. That took about a week. Here's the mystery. The Kraft Singles have been sitting in there for five weeks as of today, and they don't have a single freckle of mold forming anywhere on them!
I noticed this two weeks ago, and so to speed up the process, I took a single out of the wrapper and left it on the bottom shelf. Nothing happened. No mold, no condensation, nothing. It is just a piece of cheese sitting on the bottom shelf of a fridge. Last week I bought more cheese (Crackerbarrel sharp cheddar if you are interested). I cut a small square off and placed it on top of the Kraft single. The Crackerbarrel had mold growing on it within three days. Today, the whole square is nice and moldy. Here's the best part. The mold stops the second it gets to the Kraft Single!
What the hell are Kraft Singles made out of?! It can't possibly be dairy, because if it were, mold wouldn't be so scared of it. It isn't cheese, that much is certain. I mean, it doesn't even really taste like cheese. It's orange, but that's about the only parallel I can draw. So if it isn't dairy, and it isn't cheese, what is it?
See, it's a mystery. Help me solve it. Help me discover the truth about Kraft Singles. I'm already looking into whether or not they were produced by aliens- pick a hypothesis, and research into it. This problem needs to be solved!
Friday, July 6, 2007
Waking or Sleeping?
Have you ever had one of those dreams that you are so certain is real that even when you wake up in your bed, you still are unsure how much of the dream was a dream and how much of it actually happened? Well, I just had one, which is why my blog today is being written at 05:53(a.m., but I use the 24 hour clock for those who don't know) and will, for the second time since its creation, be about something serious. Allow me to share, because I think it's one of those sharing dreams. It's short, so don't worry, and the message will come at the end. For those who come for my cynicism, I am sorry. But this was just too important to pass up.
My brother and I were driving down to the city. For some reason, we have been doing this rather often while I sleep. The way we get there is always different, as if the roads keep changing. That's important, because today we had a long drive. Exiting "the city" (I have no clue which city it is, but it oddly resembles my memories of Paris), we took a wrong turn and ended up driving onto an on-ramp which went over a hundred feet up into the air. At the top, my heart began to beat rather fast, and I could feel myself getting dizzy. I clutched the wheel harder, drove onwards, but began to see double of everything. Something bad was about to happen, and I needed to get to ground level before it did. As the wheels of my car rolled out of the elevated turn and back onto the ground based road, my heart gave one quick pound, and I died.
This is where things got interesting. Everything changed. My brother vanished from the car and everything became clearer; as if the sun had risen in the sky, but was nowhere to be seen. Behind me was sitting a person who I once knew, long ago. He was a friend of mine, if I remember correctly, or maybe the son of a friend of my mothers? I don't know, it was that long ago. What I do know is that he died when I was very young, and ever since that moment I have related death to his face. He said nothing. I looked at him, and asked him "why here?" but he said nothing. He just smiled at me, and pointed out the window at nothing but that strange light.
Worry set in. Last I had been alive, I was on the road, driving a car, with my brother in the passenger seat next to me. Was he alright? I turned to ask the... whatever he was- the spirit? He smiled. Then my memory flashed with events from the previous night. I had been up all evening talking with my friend and former roommate Kyle about our ridiculous, but rather exciting future. Realizing I would never see it, I became depressed. Then my thoughts turned to those people I love; all of them. And I realized I had not told anyone that I loved them in months. I had closed the doors, and no one knew. The spirit smiled. I didn't.
Then, he reached out and touched my shoulder, and my body filled with warmth. His lips parted for the first time, and he said to me "One more chance." I was back in the car, my brother next to me, driving up into the air once again because of my wrong turn. Then, I woke.
I tell you this because even now, looking back on the entire dream, I realize it never happened. I also realize I do not believe in the afterlife, or a god, or any spirit that will welcome me in with open arms when I die. What I do know, however, is that even in the face of total disbelief and improbability, nothing has felt more real. No matter how you look at life, death, and the afterlife; we only have one shot at the life we are living now. Every life is the last chance, and I'm going to do things as best I can.
If you are reading this, chances are I know you. If ever you've made me smile, if ever we've joked together or laughed together or made fools of one another, if ever I've told you I hate you, if ever I've told you I love you, if ever you've seen me at my worst, if ever I've confided in you, if ever you've held my hand, if ever you read a book I recommended, or played with cars with me when I was little, if ever we went out to dinner together, if ever we've shared a bottle of wine, or if ever we broke open a case of beer, if ever we've watched a movie, if ever we have exchanged simple words, or if ever you've told me about God, if ever we have fallen out, even if we have not talked since; then thank you. I love you, and I thank you. You have helped shape the person I am today, and no matter how spiteful I am, no matter how depressed I become, you have made me happy, and made me who I am.
Thank you.
My brother and I were driving down to the city. For some reason, we have been doing this rather often while I sleep. The way we get there is always different, as if the roads keep changing. That's important, because today we had a long drive. Exiting "the city" (I have no clue which city it is, but it oddly resembles my memories of Paris), we took a wrong turn and ended up driving onto an on-ramp which went over a hundred feet up into the air. At the top, my heart began to beat rather fast, and I could feel myself getting dizzy. I clutched the wheel harder, drove onwards, but began to see double of everything. Something bad was about to happen, and I needed to get to ground level before it did. As the wheels of my car rolled out of the elevated turn and back onto the ground based road, my heart gave one quick pound, and I died.
This is where things got interesting. Everything changed. My brother vanished from the car and everything became clearer; as if the sun had risen in the sky, but was nowhere to be seen. Behind me was sitting a person who I once knew, long ago. He was a friend of mine, if I remember correctly, or maybe the son of a friend of my mothers? I don't know, it was that long ago. What I do know is that he died when I was very young, and ever since that moment I have related death to his face. He said nothing. I looked at him, and asked him "why here?" but he said nothing. He just smiled at me, and pointed out the window at nothing but that strange light.
Worry set in. Last I had been alive, I was on the road, driving a car, with my brother in the passenger seat next to me. Was he alright? I turned to ask the... whatever he was- the spirit? He smiled. Then my memory flashed with events from the previous night. I had been up all evening talking with my friend and former roommate Kyle about our ridiculous, but rather exciting future. Realizing I would never see it, I became depressed. Then my thoughts turned to those people I love; all of them. And I realized I had not told anyone that I loved them in months. I had closed the doors, and no one knew. The spirit smiled. I didn't.
Then, he reached out and touched my shoulder, and my body filled with warmth. His lips parted for the first time, and he said to me "One more chance." I was back in the car, my brother next to me, driving up into the air once again because of my wrong turn. Then, I woke.
I tell you this because even now, looking back on the entire dream, I realize it never happened. I also realize I do not believe in the afterlife, or a god, or any spirit that will welcome me in with open arms when I die. What I do know, however, is that even in the face of total disbelief and improbability, nothing has felt more real. No matter how you look at life, death, and the afterlife; we only have one shot at the life we are living now. Every life is the last chance, and I'm going to do things as best I can.
If you are reading this, chances are I know you. If ever you've made me smile, if ever we've joked together or laughed together or made fools of one another, if ever I've told you I hate you, if ever I've told you I love you, if ever you've seen me at my worst, if ever I've confided in you, if ever you've held my hand, if ever you read a book I recommended, or played with cars with me when I was little, if ever we went out to dinner together, if ever we've shared a bottle of wine, or if ever we broke open a case of beer, if ever we've watched a movie, if ever we have exchanged simple words, or if ever you've told me about God, if ever we have fallen out, even if we have not talked since; then thank you. I love you, and I thank you. You have helped shape the person I am today, and no matter how spiteful I am, no matter how depressed I become, you have made me happy, and made me who I am.
Thank you.
Thursday, July 5, 2007
Direct Line
Did you know: The President of the United States has a direct line straight to the Pentagon. It is completely secure, untappable, unbreakable, unstoppable. So long as he is by his direct line telephone, he can make a secure call to the Pentagon with whatever orders he needs to give. He also has one to Russia that was set up during the cold war, so that no matter what happened, the two leaders would be able to contact each other.
Thinking about this made me decide one thing: I want a Direct Line somewhere! I don't even really care where it goes, I just want a direct line! How cool would it be to have a phone line that can never go down, no matter what happens to all the servers in the world? Just think, we nuke the whole planet, all the switchboards go off, all communications go down. So long as my line remains intact, I can still call my Eskimo buddies up north! I mean, I don't have Eskimo buddies, but I sure want them now, just for when the world is wiped out and I have a direct phone line to nowhere.
I'm really not bothered where it goes, but if I am lucky enough to get to choose, here are a few people I would like to share a direct line with:
Santa Clause. The guy is just so hard to get a hold of, and I have a very sneaky suspicion that the letters I used to send him as a kid never even made it to the North Pole. Does US Mail even deliver to the North Pole? Well, if I had a direct line to him, I wouldn't have to worry about frozen postal carriers and lost letters, would I?
ABC, and by extension whoever is in charge of Grey's Anatomy. This one I would like for a number of reasons. The first is so I could call them every day and let them know how not funny their show is. The second is so that for the first time since its release, someone could actually explain to me who is sleeping with who, and why people keep falling for the main character when she always looks like she is going to cry. Oh, also why people like the jockey frat guy when he so clearly resembles a frog.
Bill Gates. I just want to be able to bug him. I keep giving him money, and to be honest, I don't think I'm getting enough for what I pay. If I had a direct line to him and I could talk to him whenever I wanted, I think I would be alright with throwing countless thousands of dollars into his giant pockets.
God. Who wouldn't want that direct line?
That's pretty much it. A direct line would be fantastic. I know I've got you thinking, so tell me, if you could have a direct line to anyone, who would you pick?
Thinking about this made me decide one thing: I want a Direct Line somewhere! I don't even really care where it goes, I just want a direct line! How cool would it be to have a phone line that can never go down, no matter what happens to all the servers in the world? Just think, we nuke the whole planet, all the switchboards go off, all communications go down. So long as my line remains intact, I can still call my Eskimo buddies up north! I mean, I don't have Eskimo buddies, but I sure want them now, just for when the world is wiped out and I have a direct phone line to nowhere.
I'm really not bothered where it goes, but if I am lucky enough to get to choose, here are a few people I would like to share a direct line with:
Santa Clause. The guy is just so hard to get a hold of, and I have a very sneaky suspicion that the letters I used to send him as a kid never even made it to the North Pole. Does US Mail even deliver to the North Pole? Well, if I had a direct line to him, I wouldn't have to worry about frozen postal carriers and lost letters, would I?
ABC, and by extension whoever is in charge of Grey's Anatomy. This one I would like for a number of reasons. The first is so I could call them every day and let them know how not funny their show is. The second is so that for the first time since its release, someone could actually explain to me who is sleeping with who, and why people keep falling for the main character when she always looks like she is going to cry. Oh, also why people like the jockey frat guy when he so clearly resembles a frog.
Bill Gates. I just want to be able to bug him. I keep giving him money, and to be honest, I don't think I'm getting enough for what I pay. If I had a direct line to him and I could talk to him whenever I wanted, I think I would be alright with throwing countless thousands of dollars into his giant pockets.
God. Who wouldn't want that direct line?
That's pretty much it. A direct line would be fantastic. I know I've got you thinking, so tell me, if you could have a direct line to anyone, who would you pick?
Wednesday, July 4, 2007
(Your Name) Everywhere
James' Everywhere will like this blog, for you see, it is about them. That's right- every single James out there in the world, I'm writing to you today, because honestly, I feel like I am connected to each and every one of you. I so often throw out the phrase "it's a good day for James' everywhere!" and you know why? Because James', If I'm happy, I want all of you to be happy too. I don't want to be the only James in the world being happy, no no, I want to share this great feeling with all of you. And when I'm down, and "it's a bad day for James' everywhere," I hope that each and every one of you will help in sharing the burden of my day. James' everywhere, thank you- and I can't wait to meet you.
Now, I am curious, does anyone else share this bond with those who share their name? I find that when I meet a person named James, I immediately assume that I will like them. This is odd for me because I have a tendency to look at people through a very negative lens. In fact, I start most relationships under the assumption that I won't like a person, and they must prove me wrong. With James', it's a whole different story.
I do find, however, that this sets me up to be failed by James'. I am never failed by anyone else at the beginning of a relationship, because they can never actually let me down if I have already branded them as a failure. But James' have, in the past, hurt me. I have entered into the relationship thinking "Hell yea! Another James!" and ended it with a "I hope I never have to see (Insert Last Name Here) again!" Once a James fails me, he is no longer a James, but rather whatever his last name is. I don't enjoy disliking James', so I avoid the situation all together by removing them from my mental list of James' I know.
Readers, are you attached to your name brothers and sisters as I am? I must know if this is a bond all people with the same name share, or just James'. I think it's probably just us James'. We are, after all, incredibly unique.
Now, I am curious, does anyone else share this bond with those who share their name? I find that when I meet a person named James, I immediately assume that I will like them. This is odd for me because I have a tendency to look at people through a very negative lens. In fact, I start most relationships under the assumption that I won't like a person, and they must prove me wrong. With James', it's a whole different story.
I do find, however, that this sets me up to be failed by James'. I am never failed by anyone else at the beginning of a relationship, because they can never actually let me down if I have already branded them as a failure. But James' have, in the past, hurt me. I have entered into the relationship thinking "Hell yea! Another James!" and ended it with a "I hope I never have to see
Readers, are you attached to your name brothers and sisters as I am? I must know if this is a bond all people with the same name share, or just James'. I think it's probably just us James'. We are, after all, incredibly unique.
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
Pet Fish
Fish have two uses in my opinion. One, they keep the ecosystem in oceans, lakes, and rivers in check. Two, they are rather yummy when cooked correctly. Outside of that, fish are completely useless. Yet, they are everywhere. In fact, you can pretty much tell if something is a commonplace household item if it appears in Wal-Mart. Well, guess what, Wal-Mart has its very own isle dedicated to fish tanks full of fish (most of which are dying, if not dead already).
Alright, maybe fish do have some use outside of being food and keeping the ecosystem balanced. They make semi-decent ornaments. For example, my parents once owned a beta fish, which just sat in a bowl in the middle of the table floating there and looking pretty. Occasionally, it would swim in a circle, but most of the time it was just there, being a fish, doing nothing.
What gets to me is this: Why do people buy fish as pets? This confuses me on so many levels that I don't really even know where to begin. I mean, for one, you can't pet your pet fish. You can try, but chances are good that the second you start stroking the thing you'll either pollute the water, stress it out, or damage a fin. No matter the build-up, the end result is always the same; the fish is boarding the one way flight to the toilet and off to fishy heaven. You can't walk a fish either. It just floats. That's all it does. You can't give it a bath, cause hell, the thing lives in water. You can't teach it to do tricks like play dead or roll over. You can't even get it to guard your house! How many criminals do you know who are afraid of guard-fish?
Though, I must admit, a guard fish would be rather cool... I suppose if people could buy sharks, fish would be far better pets. Granted, the shark wouldn't be very good at guarding your whole house unless you lived under water, but it could guard your bathtub or your swimming pool... If you got a small shark, you could even let it guard your sink or toilet!
I've changed my mind. Not all fish are useless pets, but until someone calls me up and says "Hey James, wanna come over and see my Great White Shark? He's guarding the pool!" I'm just not going to be a fan of people owning fish.
Alright, maybe fish do have some use outside of being food and keeping the ecosystem balanced. They make semi-decent ornaments. For example, my parents once owned a beta fish, which just sat in a bowl in the middle of the table floating there and looking pretty. Occasionally, it would swim in a circle, but most of the time it was just there, being a fish, doing nothing.
What gets to me is this: Why do people buy fish as pets? This confuses me on so many levels that I don't really even know where to begin. I mean, for one, you can't pet your pet fish. You can try, but chances are good that the second you start stroking the thing you'll either pollute the water, stress it out, or damage a fin. No matter the build-up, the end result is always the same; the fish is boarding the one way flight to the toilet and off to fishy heaven. You can't walk a fish either. It just floats. That's all it does. You can't give it a bath, cause hell, the thing lives in water. You can't teach it to do tricks like play dead or roll over. You can't even get it to guard your house! How many criminals do you know who are afraid of guard-fish?
Though, I must admit, a guard fish would be rather cool... I suppose if people could buy sharks, fish would be far better pets. Granted, the shark wouldn't be very good at guarding your whole house unless you lived under water, but it could guard your bathtub or your swimming pool... If you got a small shark, you could even let it guard your sink or toilet!
I've changed my mind. Not all fish are useless pets, but until someone calls me up and says "Hey James, wanna come over and see my Great White Shark? He's guarding the pool!" I'm just not going to be a fan of people owning fish.
Monday, July 2, 2007
Amazing Future
For several years now I've kept a mental list of my top five dream jobs. Obviously, author is on there, and has been for as long as I can remember. The others, well, let's just say they are less likely. If you think about the odds for becoming an author, that says a lot. Still, I have kept the list all the same, and have altered it across the years as new information on the working world has been brought to my attention. One such alteration occurred this morning.
Dream Job number 4: Weather Predictor.
Wondering why? Well, wonder no longer, for I am about to explain it to you. See, this is no regular old meteorologist position. No no, not at all. See, this "Weather Predictor" is an actual weather predictor. See, I would be able to actually sense what weather was on its way. Somehow, my body would be able to sense changes in weather patterns, and I would be able to give 100% accurate forecasts of what the weather was going to do 10, 15, or 30 days before it actually happened. I wouldn't quite be a weather god, but I would certainly be the middle man between mother nature and the people.
The way I see it, there isn't a single weather station in the world that wouldn't want me to be under their wing. I could be taken in anywhere, live anywhere in the world, just because I can sense weather patterns to a flawless precision and accuracy. Not only would I be able to live anywhere, I'd also be rich, for doing nothing! I mean, if it's a natural talent, I wouldn't even really have to work. I could just call in the weather forecast from home, floating in my hand carved lagoon sipping fine wine from my diamond wineglass.
Jealous? Yea, thought you would be. Too bad I've already claimed it as my job. Stinks to be you, but hey, if you suck-up to me enough, I may just let you mooch off me.
Dream Job number 4: Weather Predictor.
Wondering why? Well, wonder no longer, for I am about to explain it to you. See, this is no regular old meteorologist position. No no, not at all. See, this "Weather Predictor" is an actual weather predictor. See, I would be able to actually sense what weather was on its way. Somehow, my body would be able to sense changes in weather patterns, and I would be able to give 100% accurate forecasts of what the weather was going to do 10, 15, or 30 days before it actually happened. I wouldn't quite be a weather god, but I would certainly be the middle man between mother nature and the people.
The way I see it, there isn't a single weather station in the world that wouldn't want me to be under their wing. I could be taken in anywhere, live anywhere in the world, just because I can sense weather patterns to a flawless precision and accuracy. Not only would I be able to live anywhere, I'd also be rich, for doing nothing! I mean, if it's a natural talent, I wouldn't even really have to work. I could just call in the weather forecast from home, floating in my hand carved lagoon sipping fine wine from my diamond wineglass.
Jealous? Yea, thought you would be. Too bad I've already claimed it as my job. Stinks to be you, but hey, if you suck-up to me enough, I may just let you mooch off me.
Sunday, July 1, 2007
My Amazing Dream
Last night, I had one of the best dreams I've ever had in my life. I want to share this with all of you because in the recent past, my dreams have been haunting me. Not last night. Last night was a dream so loaded with excitement, adrenaline, passion, and the fight for survival that I woke up shaking with joy. What made it better? When I woke up because I needed a drink of water (most likely because of all the imaginary running I was doing), the second I closed my eyes, I sank right back into this puppy! That never happens with good dreams! Here's how things went down.
The setup was in London, in an apartment that one of my fathers friends owned. For some reason, my family owned it now. Things were normal to begin with, and I believe we were eating dinner and talking as a family sometimes does. Then, out of nowhere, the building started shaking. Outside our window, we could hear things exploding, car alarms going off, people screaming. I immediately ran to the window and found the sky to be completely over overcast with clouds so dark that the sun could barely shine through. The world became similar to a night with no moon. Then, I saw it, the thing object that was setting the stage for the rest of my dream; an Alien battle ship so large, it covered the entire city of London.
Then they came. Beams of light shot down to the ground, and Aliens descended onto the planet. For those of you that have seen Alien the movie, the Aliens somewhat resembled them. They were larger, about twice the size of a human, and they stood up on their hind legs. They had a tail, which on the end had a blade so sharp it could cut through bone like butter. Their hands had enormous claws on them, and they could see in the dark better than the light. They were killing machines, and they were scouring the surface of London, possibly the world.
The door to our apartment flew open, and one came charging in at us. The family scattered, all of us in different directions. My brother and I headed for the stares, straight for our rooms. You see, we have an obsession with swords. Together, we own about nine or ten. So, up we went, followed by the sounds of an over sized beast smashing up our apartment. Both of us grabbed our weapons; mine just so happened to be a katana (which was a lot sharper in my dream than in real life).
I sprinted back out into the hallway to find Robert (my brother) already fighting off the Alien. Neither of us have much combat training outside of two months of fencing classes, and for some reason, the dream actually incorporated that. Robert fought well, but not well enough. The tail whipped around and grazed his cheek, slicing open his face. Immediately, I charged forward and jumped onto the Alien's back, thrusting my sword into its chest. The beast screamed, staggered, and fell to the ground dead.
This was when I woke up. I had my glass of water, and sank right back into the dream.
It was now six years later. Human kind had been fighting the war non stop, but we were losing. I was scarred badly, obviously having had many encounters with the Aliens over the years. We were somewhere underground, in a safe house. I was clad in full black armour which resembled Kevlar, but I can't be sure. I can tell you it didn't do much.
There were a large number of us protecting the bunker. A call came in on a radio, summoning the final defense to the inner defenses. That apparently was my group. My brother, me, and several others including my father sprinted from the room. We exited our underground sanctuary into a run-down building. Screams echoed across the crumbling halls, and as we cast around looking for the enemy, a wall shattered to the ground and at least fifteen of them came charging in at us. Together we fought, taking out as many as we can. I got into a one-on-one battle with one of the monsters, who threw his tail outwards and slashed open my armour, grazing my chest and causing blood to seep down my stomach. I staggered backwards, drew a short sword from my back, and hurled it at the monster's chest. It hit, and the Alien fell backwards in a pool of its own blood.
The fight continued, and eventually, all the monsters were eliminated. Not before we had lost half of our defenders, however. We had been hit hard, and many of the survivors were wounded. Together, we walked back to the underground bunker, where we sat in silence. Then, I woke.
What a fun dream it was! I sense a short story being born... I'm on it! (Don't worry, I promise I'll write it a lot better than I did this blog).
The setup was in London, in an apartment that one of my fathers friends owned. For some reason, my family owned it now. Things were normal to begin with, and I believe we were eating dinner and talking as a family sometimes does. Then, out of nowhere, the building started shaking. Outside our window, we could hear things exploding, car alarms going off, people screaming. I immediately ran to the window and found the sky to be completely over overcast with clouds so dark that the sun could barely shine through. The world became similar to a night with no moon. Then, I saw it, the thing object that was setting the stage for the rest of my dream; an Alien battle ship so large, it covered the entire city of London.
Then they came. Beams of light shot down to the ground, and Aliens descended onto the planet. For those of you that have seen Alien the movie, the Aliens somewhat resembled them. They were larger, about twice the size of a human, and they stood up on their hind legs. They had a tail, which on the end had a blade so sharp it could cut through bone like butter. Their hands had enormous claws on them, and they could see in the dark better than the light. They were killing machines, and they were scouring the surface of London, possibly the world.
The door to our apartment flew open, and one came charging in at us. The family scattered, all of us in different directions. My brother and I headed for the stares, straight for our rooms. You see, we have an obsession with swords. Together, we own about nine or ten. So, up we went, followed by the sounds of an over sized beast smashing up our apartment. Both of us grabbed our weapons; mine just so happened to be a katana (which was a lot sharper in my dream than in real life).
I sprinted back out into the hallway to find Robert (my brother) already fighting off the Alien. Neither of us have much combat training outside of two months of fencing classes, and for some reason, the dream actually incorporated that. Robert fought well, but not well enough. The tail whipped around and grazed his cheek, slicing open his face. Immediately, I charged forward and jumped onto the Alien's back, thrusting my sword into its chest. The beast screamed, staggered, and fell to the ground dead.
This was when I woke up. I had my glass of water, and sank right back into the dream.
It was now six years later. Human kind had been fighting the war non stop, but we were losing. I was scarred badly, obviously having had many encounters with the Aliens over the years. We were somewhere underground, in a safe house. I was clad in full black armour which resembled Kevlar, but I can't be sure. I can tell you it didn't do much.
There were a large number of us protecting the bunker. A call came in on a radio, summoning the final defense to the inner defenses. That apparently was my group. My brother, me, and several others including my father sprinted from the room. We exited our underground sanctuary into a run-down building. Screams echoed across the crumbling halls, and as we cast around looking for the enemy, a wall shattered to the ground and at least fifteen of them came charging in at us. Together we fought, taking out as many as we can. I got into a one-on-one battle with one of the monsters, who threw his tail outwards and slashed open my armour, grazing my chest and causing blood to seep down my stomach. I staggered backwards, drew a short sword from my back, and hurled it at the monster's chest. It hit, and the Alien fell backwards in a pool of its own blood.
The fight continued, and eventually, all the monsters were eliminated. Not before we had lost half of our defenders, however. We had been hit hard, and many of the survivors were wounded. Together, we walked back to the underground bunker, where we sat in silence. Then, I woke.
What a fun dream it was! I sense a short story being born... I'm on it! (Don't worry, I promise I'll write it a lot better than I did this blog).
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