She blinded me...

...with science!

Recently I updated my own, personal Yahoo! start up page to include news from the AP science wire, because, down deep, I'm a science nerd. So, I was cheered to find that the Cassini spacecraft had found what everyone hoped it would find on Titan. Of course, this wouldn't be one of my posts if I didn't point out my favorite part:

Because Titan is extremely cold—about minus 290 degrees—scientists expected the organic material to condense and rain down to the surface.

And offer a smart-ass comment about it: Frogs are organic material, aren't they? Wow! It rains frogs on Titan!

However, I was less than cheered to hear about the prospect of a renewed battle over teaching evolution in Kansas classrooms. Combine this with Bill Frist's blatant pandering to the religious right and I itch with worry much the way a leper must itch in the beginning stages of the disease, before the realization sets in that this is a serious problem; before, in fact, skin begins to slough and body parts begin to wither and drop off.

The itchy part is the worry that this country—our country, people; mine and yours—is about to become so humorless and high-minded that people can't even watch a movie like Kung Fu Hustle without feeling compelled to warn others not to take it seriously. At the other end of the worry/leprosy scale is the "What the fuck? Where are my legs?" concern that a growing number of people in this country—our country, people—fear that life isn't worth living; that Jesus is coming tomorrow and that earthly concerns such as impending energy shortages and endless wars against ill-defined enemies and equal rights for every single person on this fucking planet are not important when compared to getting right with God and making sure their neighbors are right with him, too, just so no one fucks up their chances of getting swooped up to Heaven before Satan lets his devils have free run of the planet for a thousand years.

I couldn't stand that, folks; that sort of millennial/apocalyptic thinking last cropped up around 1000 A.D., and it didn't quit for a good 500 years or so. You remember reading about that time in history class, don't you? It was called the Dark Ages, and it was marked by plagues, heretic burnings and bloody conflicts. It was the least rational time in Western history, and I don't want to watch it come back around again.

Remember, folks, our problems are ours; we make 'em, we face 'em, we fix 'em. Pray all you want, if you want, but don't make the mistake of thinking some part of intelligent design includes trashing that design just when things get interesting.

Not being Catholic....

...I really don't give half a fuck. However, I did have a clever thought when I read this bit:

"I entrust myself to your prayers," he said as the crowd chanted "Papa! Papa! Papa!" and waved umbrellas and flags. Some climbed lamp posts and fountains for a better view.

Umbrellas?

Y'all're gonna need more than umbrellas to save you from the shit-storm that's about to follow, my friends.

Y'all're gonna need something with a roof and four walls. Hell, y'all're gonna need a whole 'nother church.

Yep.

Old, old, old...

Jesus, god...has it been 10 years?

I can feel Darwin's teeth closing on my jugular. He grins and says "Success, or failure?" Then he bites. And the fucking weasel just won't let go....

I am entranced...

Because I am an aging (Aged? Damn, I hope not...), liberal guy with little money, an English degree and a strong aversion to commercials, I listen to a lot of NPR, and am especially fond of This American Life. Last week's show played on the theme of "Mind Games," and featured a piece on Improv Everywhere, a troupe of NYC-based improv actors who take their "scenes" out into the public sphere in the hope of spreading a bit of wonder and weirdness among the masses. It's sort of like Ken Kesey's Merry Pranksters without the political underpinnings, or Project Mayhem without the property damage.

Needless to say, I am entranced. Doing something like this seems like a lot of fun. I yearn, deep in my soul, to try something like the scenes these folks pull. My favorite one is probably The Möbius, where they created a "time loop" in a Starbucks. I'm also fond of the absurdity and positivity inherent in the Look Up More mission. However, I'd have to say that my favorite moment, as documented on their site, is probably from the Megstore (sic) mission:

Megastore guy: They were all just standing there.
Cop: What were they doing?
Megastore guy: Just standing, and then they all danced.
Cop: Did they say anything?
Megastore guy: No.

Pause

Cop: Why are we here?

Why, indeed?

So...anyone in Milwaukee doing stuff like this? Anyone want to start? Because I, for one, am in!

Ah, youth...

Three students suspended for using fake money

Hopefully, this school district will buck the trend of over-punishing kids. I mean, c'mon, it's not like they were trying to pass 100 dollar bills. This is not a Columbine grade offense, so hopefully not even the feds will get their hackles up about it. I mean, honestly? Man, I shudder to think what I might've tried to do with today's technology when I was in sixth grade.

My suggestion: have the Secret Service come in and frighten the piss out of these kids, get the boy who did the counterfeiting into a graphic arts class, tell his friends not to be so damn stupid and let them off with the suspension. Then advise the parents to ground everybody, and ground them hard. That should be enough.

I did find one thing about this story sort of shocking:

An assistant principal called Seattle police the next day after a sixth-grader tried to use one of the fake bills to buy beef jerky from the cafeteria.

So, you can buy damn beef jerky in school cafeterias these days? Wow! I am out of touch with today's youth!

Lucky little bastards...I love beef jerky!

Generic update, version 1.0

Okay, so...I haven't really chimed in and let people know what I've been up to lately. I've just been cataloging stuff I think is reasonably cool as I go along. Why is that? Have I been avoiding y'all?

Nah, not really. My last day off, this past Wednesday, marked my first time back as Dungeon Master in my regular, Wednesday night D&D group since late January. So, instead of going out and gallivanting around Milwaukee, I had to stay in and work on my epic adventure. "Why didn't I go out and about on my other day off," you ask? Well, see...it was inventory last week at work, so I didn't get another day off. Sad, I know, but working retail has its grave responsibilities.

Anyway, stuff here is...

Can't finish that, really. It's chaotic. Living in my head the way I do is very much like living in a haunted house: I never really know how things will be until I see what mischief, horrors or miracles are waiting for me every morning. I had a very good friend leave town, on a fool's errand that I hope turns out for the best. I bought a lightsaber...



...that I simultaneously couldn't afford and couldn't resist. I decided that I'm growing a beard...







...but I'm not entirely sure why. I've begun reading some Eastern Theo-philosophy. I also created an Amazon Wishlist. And I'm deeply concerned that I'm going to lose my job, so I'm steeling up my backbone in preparation for standing my ground and wondering just how unemployment works.

In spite, or, perhaps, because of all this, I'm in an amazingly good mood. There's something to be said about standing among the ruins, looking at the shattered bricks and realizing that I may, should I choose, put them back together any way I please.

Ah, ruin...sweet ruin. Like a worn-in hooded sweatjacket, it's something I wear well.

Concentrated Awesomeness!

How in the name of all that's holy have I existed on the internet without knowing about this?

An archive of free movies, songs, writings and software! Wait, let me say that again...

An archive of FREE movies, FREE songs, FREE writings and FREE software.

Wrap me up in a silken shroud and sink my body five fathoms deep because I've died and gone to heaven, folks!

HEAVEN!

Wow, this is super neat!

YaGoohoo!gle

I hate it when my titles carry everything I need to say.

Be at peace...

Strange thoughts this morning. People are dying all over the place: thousands more in Indonesia, Terri Schiavo, Mitch Hedberg, the pope. I imagine the bereaved, if we were to trace the contacts and connections out from their sources, must number in the tens of millions. Sitting in my quiet, Milwaukee apartment on a Saturday morning, being piped information through the various tubes dedicated to such endeavors, this seems like an amazing and sad day full of strife and pain for all those losing someone they value.

But not me.

I sympathize. I think I even empathize. Today is not a day of loss for me, but I've had such days. I can think of nothing much that will bring comfort. Talk to your friends, your family. Cry some. Listen to your priests, if you are so inclined. Realize you've lost something that you may never replace. Don't pretend it's nothing much. Keep breathing.

All I can offer from my little apartment is this:



This is Gatsby. He's a medium-length haired, American domestic mongrel. His hobbies include attempting to escape my building, knocking stuff over, darting between my legs while I'm walking around the apartment, mewing piteously for no apparent reason every morning and focusing his walnut-like brain on vexing me every chance he gets. He has wicked claws and an hilarious attraction/avoidance conflict concerning running water. In other words, he's a cat, just like yours.

He's also fuzzy and warm and he loves to sit on my lap while I'm at the computer, where he purrs like a Sherman tank, chews the buttons on my shirt and digs his claws into my chest to get my attention. And, sometimes, when I remember not to reflexively scoop him off me and dump him on the floor in frustration with his interference, he brings me a bit of peace. Every day.