3 of 4

William's Too Heavy Back-Pack

2009-12-31T03:05:00.012-06:00

by Gladys Li
I helped my Mom with the first draft of this story in 1981. I didn't like how it came out. She never gave up on the story. She kept sending me new editions of the story until about 2005. Really, she wanted me to contribute some effort to a draft. She kept calling it "our" story.
This is my first direct revision of the story in 28 years.

"What's the difference between a turtle, a tortoise, and a terrapin?" William demanded as he came charging into the backyard.

I smiled. "You're asking a good question."

He threw down his back-pack and sat himself down on the porch steps. I thought about Aesop's Fables and asked "Do you know that Grandpa used to tell me a story about the race between the tortoise and the hare..."

"YES! Heard it, like, a gazillion times already." interrupted William.

"And?" I prompted.

William continued, "The turtle is so slow that the rabbit thinks he has time for a little nap."

"That's right. The tortoise wins and puts the hare to shame."

"No. Wrong." William flatly contradicted me. "You see this back-pack?"

"Yes?"

"No, I mean, really check it out. It weighs a ton."

"Maybe I'd better move it before someone trips over it," I said,followed by an exaggerated groan and a "Heave Ho!"

William tried to supress a giggle by frowning. "Now you understand why it takes me so long to go anywhere when I'm lugging that thing around. Tortoise, turtle; turtle, tortoise. A rabbit is faster. Much faster" he said authoritatively, pointing his finger for emphasis. "Grandpa didn't tell you that story to teach you about animals, he wanted to teach you a lesson."

"Oh yes? What sort of lesson?"

"Don't be a lazy rabbit, or else you'll be a loser at life!"

"In that case, I proclaim it only just for the rabbit to lose and the turtle to win!"

William snorted, "Justice has nothing to do with it. Anyhow, it's a dumb ending to the story because everyone knows that a rabbit can run circles around turtles. At least if its a story, justice could come with a twist. Where's the twist? A story needs to have a twist, Mom. And, by the way, you still haven't said anything about the difference between a tortoise, a turtle, and a terrapin."

"Well, at least you seem to know the lesson of the tortoise and the hare." I said. William looked pleased by the compliment, then confused when I challenged him, "How about frogs and terrapins?"

"What's that now?"

"Oh, so you don't know the story about Miss Betty, a terrapin who lived in Old Quarry?"

William straighten his back a bit, and dropped his shoulders. He rested two relaxed foreams on his knees, and a smile crept across his face, like he knew a good joke but was keeping it a secret. Although he liked to talk, this was his posture when he was ready to listen. So I began...

* * * * *

Saturday turned out to be beautiful after all.

Everyone would go to the Beaver dam party at the left bank shallows. Miss Betty made her way through the stand of trees near the ox bow. She was wearing her favorite straw hat. It was held on by a ribbon. The ribbon was in a diamondback pattern that matched her black and orange shell.

Miss Betty spied her friend Samantha up in the leaves and branches of the tall white oak. Samanatha was lost in thought, acorn in her hands, mouth open, although her bushy Auburn tail twitched ever so slightly. More of a pulse, really. Miss Betty guessed that Samantha got distracted during breakfast.

"Good morning, Sam," Miss Betty called up to her. "You are up early."

"You know me, Betty." Samantha replied, " I love the morning. So full of... possibility."

"I hope it is possible that I will see you at the Beavers' party?" asked Miss Betty gently.

Samantha startled, "Is that today? Thank you for reminding me! I nearly forgot."

"You have plenty of time, don't worry."

"Oh... but which way shall I go to cross the creek? What's the water level? Can I take the stones? Maybe the branch bridge, if its not to windy. Is it too windy, Betty?"

"No idea, but here's how you can find out. Just wait for the Cardinal Brothers to pass overhead. If they are beating their wings, its calm. If they are soaring, it means they are riding a wind. Then you can make an informed choice." explained Betty.

"You sure know a lot about flying. Are you sure you are not a flying Terrapin?"

"I'm sure," laughed Miss Betty. "But I appreciate the compliment."

Miss Betty entered the gap between the crocuses and soon was in the thorny underbrush. She could no longer see Samantha but heard her cry out, "Oh look, there they go! Soaring. Thanks again, Betty. I'm avoiding high winds and taking the low route, in case anyone is looking for me!"

By the time Miss Betty emerged from the thorns to reach the large roots of the white oak, Samantha had set off on her journey. Miss Betty looked forward to seeing her friend at the party.

Clear out of the blue came Charles Grenouille. He was practicing his long-high leaps and jumps. Miss Betty admired his debonaire moves, and the charming way that his eyes could non-chalantly move independant of one another. But Charles could be careless. Today, he landed a bit too close to Miss Betty, who began to retreat into her shell for fear that she might get hit.

"Comment ca va?" asked Charles, with eyes wandering rakishly.

Although he was technically an invasive species to Old Quarry, Charles was not actually born in France. His father, Gilles Grenouille had actually escaped from an expensive restraurant that served retro Indo-China delicacies, married Teresita LaRana, and to everyone's surprise had a son who was his fly-catching image. The point being: the accent was an affectation. Some of the inhabitants of Old Quarry gently teased Charles about the way he spoke, but Miss Betty knew that Charles did not like this.

Miss Betty carefully answered, "Bon matin, Monsieur Grenouille. Je suis en pleine forme! Et vous, bonhomme vert?"

"Tres bien, Mademoiselle Betty. I see you have been practicing. It makes you even more... how do you say? Irresistable."

Miss Betty felt herself starting to blush, so she changed the topic. "Oh Charles, I wish you would be careful when you jump so high. Do you know that you almost didn't clear the big root?"

Charles' eyes suddenly stopped wandering and focused instead on Miss Betty. Charles lashed out, "You think Charles is a silly French, too? Do not put at stake that I can not clear this or any obstacle. I am jumper par excellance!"

"No, no.. please do not be upset with me." protested Miss Betty, "I only want you to be safe because...:"

"Forgive me, Mademoiselle.  They say frogs are cold-blooded. Mais, I feel such passion from time of the time." said Charles. There was an awkward pause as Miss Betty slowly trudged under the big root, so Charles spoke again. "Are you to go to Chez Beavers?"

"Oh yes. It will be such a grand event. Everyone will be there. Why, just this morning, I saw Samantha Sciurini, who is going. And the Cardinals have flown by. I am fairly certain that they are on their way to the party too."

This last bit of information made Charles think about how marvelous the Cardinal Brothers would look, with their brilliant red wings shining in the sunshine.  Like always, they would get all the attention and no one would notice his impressive leaps. He upset himself so much with these jealous thoughts that he jumped off without even bidding Miss Betty, "Adieu."

Miss Betty sighed.

"No matter." She told herself as she made her way around the white oak. Her heavy shell, the pastron on top and the carapice on the bottom, protected her from falling debris. Finally, past the pine stumps, she spotted the brackish water of the ox bow portion of the creek. Here, the current slowed as the waters meandered around the largest part of a mineral outcropping covered in overgrowth. This was also where she (unlike her cousin, the freshwater turtle) was most comfortable. Although it took her a long way to make it from her nest to the water, she was used it. Many of her family members did this. Anyhow, she was confident that she had planned enough time to make it to the water where her webbed feet would propel her with great strength through the secondary flow, and then across the main current, to the left bank.

By late afternoon, she was passing the pine stumps near the water's edge when she saw Charles asleep on a log. The scene reminded her of a story about how another cousin, a fully terrestrial, thicker-shelled tortoise, had beaten a rabbit in a long-distance race. Getting closer, however, Miss Betty realized that Charles was not asleep at all. Instead, he was passed out with a rather large bump on his head. Charles' breathing was weak and he looked a little less green.

Miss Betty's mind worked furiously as she walked along. By the time she got to the water's edge, she had her plan. She untied the ribon on her hat, and took it off so she could use it as a little pail. She scooped up some water. Going over to the unconscious frog, she called him by his full name, "Charles Pablo Nguyen Grenouille!" She splashed him with some water from her hat.

"Ouch. My head. Mom is that you?" He moaned in his actual Middle-Atlantic voice.

"It's getting late, my friend," warned Miss Betty. "Can you get up?"

"My head is spinning," Charles croaked. "I guess I won't be able to go to the Beavers' party today." But Miss Betty had already had figured everything out.

"Of course you will," she consoled Charles in a soothing voice. "We are right by the water. I'll give you a little push in, and then you can take a ride on my shell."

"That is so kind of you, Miss Betty.  But everyone will laugh at me, just like they always do." Charles complained.

Betty pushed Charles into the water. The amphibian was clearly refreshed by the change. "Tell you what: Why don't I just swim along side you, for safety? We can get to the left bank together. And if anyone asks you about the bump on your head, just look at me and say 'Cherchez la femme.'"

And of course, that is exactly what they did. Miss Betty smiled as Charles swam along-side her. Occasionally Charles would rest a webbed digit on her shell, in order to right his course, or to get a bit of a tow.

The Cardinal Brothers did arrive first. And once again, they were the life of the party; garnering the most attention and adulation for their fabulous plumage. Nevertheless, Charles and Betty made it safely.

And everyone enjoyed themselves immensely.

* * * * *

"Charles was very lucky that Miss Betty came along when she did" was William's first comment.

"The lesson is supposed to be that friends help each other." And for good meaure, I emphasized "Two heads are better than one."

William saw it differently, "Charles' head was of very little use to him, and none to Betty. I don't even understand how she could be friends with someone with such disgusting vanity."

"Miss Betty is kind, William. It is easy to be mean to Charles, and many in the Old Quarry are. But Miss Betty appreciates that Charles puts on a brave face. And she appreciates being appreciated."

William said nothing for a while. A distant neighbor's wind chimes softly sounded a weird melody. The shadows from the afternoon light through the latticework on the porch grew progressively longer. I savored the moment. Finally, William stood and picked up his back pack. He was ready to move on.

"Thanks, Mom. I'll think about what you said."

"I know you will, my sweet. You're welcome."

a haiku by Dakota Li

2009-12-27T12:31:00.005-06:00

Everyone can talk
Also, everyone can walk
When given a chance

New Months

2009-12-23T16:08:00.004-06:00

I explained to Dakota that July through November was in honor of little boy because he is so sweet and likeable.

This drove Dakota into a Veruca Salt fit of envy. And because I am a super villian, I have done something that the Coopenhagen conference cannot: force all 193 to do something for ME and my kids.

Anyhow, just for 2010, you can enjoy some "special edition months"

Awesomary
Krapactulary
October
Tarch
April
June
July
August
September
October 2: The Squeak-well
November
December

Mark your calendars now. Or else.

Merry Christmas from William Li

2009-12-22T23:05:00.002-06:00

Because nothing says "Christmas" more than a white tiger, at an aquarium/downtown restaurant, demolishing raw hamburger inside a cardboard box in front of an ersatz maharaja adorned with an evergreen tree that had been earlier torn down from the rafters and "marked" by said tiger, please consider this my personal Christmas card made especially for you.

Me Three Shirts From Mail Order Far

2009-12-21T23:27:00.004-06:00

In typical William style, this is a post about avoiding writing a post about what I am thinking about, which is that I went back to my church. I will proceed to say that I won't say anything about it other than I don't exactly know at this point why I stopped going, there basically was no good reason, but almost three years had passed. There is a lot that I could say about that, but its private, so I won't.

I had a digression here that had to do with something I purchased at office depot my senior year, if you were there (Dave, AChen, etc.) then you will recall that you felt I paid to much for it, but I felt that because it was exactly what I wanted, it was worth it. The point is (a) I still have it, (b) there is no longer any thing for which I will pay the "no haggle" price because its exactly what I want. In fact, I am not sure there even is anything that I would point to and say "this is exactly what I want."

I don't think this is a function of being any more mature. I think its the times. I am just not convinced that anyone wants a new Lexus or a big-screen TV anymore, even if they could afford it, which (of course) they can't.

So, I got myself a Christmas present. I got two white shirts and a french blue shirt for work: two from Amazon.com and one from Lands End. Total price is something like $55. If I am an indicator of the market (and I am) then we are in for a long winter.

Discussing the meaning of irony with Dakota

2009-12-19T22:55:00.005-06:00

"Dad, do we have any Lays?"

"Check in there," I say, pointing to the Frito-Lay variety pak.

Cheetos, Fritos, Regular D'Oritos. The kids love the lays. I had purchased Pringles snak paks as a decoy but Jason, outraged, opened them all and stomped on them.

Dakota was disappointed. Consoling her I said, "Gotta stop Jason from opening the chips, eating two and then opening another. Jason can eat just one."

I looked up at the ceiling, as I often do when I am pleased with how clever I am to talk over the head of a child. That's when we both spotted the 6-pak of Lays.

"Hey!" we shouted in unison.

Opening it up, Dakota asked me, "Why did you put it up there?"

"Its my stash for when I want chips not broken up by Jason, I forgot about it."

"How ironic."

"Dakota, what do you think ironic means?"

"Very silly."

I paused, reflecting on how Eugene talked me out of saying "a keen sense of irony" was one of my greatest strengths on my Rice application. I thought about the nights I spent puzzling over my Swearingen's "Rhetoric and Irony" readings for Tyler's class, wondering if maybe I had the book upside-down. I remembered the first time, as a senior developer, that I told an end user that a feature he hated wasn't a bug, but the correct and intended functionality, and the first time, as an IT manager, that I told an overloaded employee to work smarter instead of harder. I thought about how badly I wanted to have a real conversation with my father but how unbearable it was to listen to his spiel on any topic until we found that we could talk about my career, then he died just as I started to have one. I thought about how I was sent back to physical therapy because after finally completing physical therapy for my achilles, I decided to get some shorts at "sports authority" and I got whiplash and an aggravayed lumbar from being rear-ended in the parking lot of the "sports authority."

. . .

While all of these thoughts and memories raced through my mind and Dakota looked at me, searching for approval: her big wide eyes, paired with a sly sideways smile.

"I can't think of a better definition that that. Enjoy your chips."

Chachews and shellfish

2009-12-16T22:25:00.004-06:00

I pronounce the c in "cashews" as a ch and and the sh in "cashews" as a ch.

I smelled some pepper: ca ca cha-chews!

Dakota decided that the s in selfish should be pronounced as an sh. She found this to be hilarious. I just stared at her blankly, but inside I was ROTFLMAO.

I told her that shellfish people run the risk of being all abalone. She just stared blankly at me, as I laughed.

I wonder if she was laughing on the inside?

High Comedy

2009-12-08T17:26:00.001-06:00

Thinking about the best family moments growing up, it was the high
comedy that just came from Mom, Eugene, and I taking a funny situation
and making observational humor. All great improv high comedy relies
upon the players catching each others' groove and keeping it going.
You know what I mean, right?

Haven't you ever thought, when you were with your family or friends,
"Wow, that could be on TV"

I have a segue here jealously against Bill Cosby actually putting that
experience on TV but anyway...

It makes me happy to see the kids crack each other up. In particular,
I can see how each has their own shticks and style of madcap humor.
Nevertheless, both do impressions, props, spit takes, prat falls and
irony. Dakota seems to also like puns and observations. Jason likes
funny faces. Neither kid goes blue.

--
Sent from my mobile device

Sketch - "Why The Monkey Fell Out Of The Tree"

2009-12-06T17:25:00.012-06:00

Over Thanksgiving, I discovered that basically every piece of paper that I ever wrote and left at home was amazingly preserved by my Mom. I found a stenopad that I bought on clearance from W.H. Smith for 25p in the summer of 1995. I was working out a MMORPG. I had character classes, a combat system for fighters and a different one for Clerics. But at several points, I got distracted and wrote other things. I think I wrote this after the R.E.M. concert but before I went home.

To be clear, this is not the first revision of this idea, but its more or less the best sketch in terms of how the whole situation plays out.

Sketch

Old man - 72ish on his death bed. Makes a bet with the Devil. The rest of his days for a single day of his youth to re-live.

Chooses the day his 1st true love rejected him; late in his senior year of high school. He plans to change it, the bet is that whatever he does today will not change the outcome of his life.

At 1st he is thrilled. He is young and fit, and savors simple things like a healthy colon.

Sees his mother and his childhood best friend, both of whom he has not seen alive in decades. At the Diner, best friend is making purposely dumb jokes; funny.

He tells off the vice-principal.

Sees The Girl and falls in love all over again. With a lifetime of experience and confidence, things look like they might go better; at first. But he is overwhelmed by the combined weight of his past memories and a lifetime of his fantasies about what "should" have been. He forgets his age and what that means. The result, ultimately, is he's rejected again. Despite some superficial changes, The Girl, had made up her mind long ago and the time, place, and circumstances are basically the same.

He realizes that he now has not only lost The Girl, but also lost his soul to the Devil. He is very distraught. So much so that he makes a last desperate attempt to prove the Devil wrong by driving onto the railroad track.

The sound of train whistle turns into the sound of the Devil's laughter as the clock on the car dashboard reaches midnight. The light from the train becomes the light above the Old Man's death bed. The Devil's laughing fades away to the sound of Grandson weeping at the foot of the bed.

It's better without this next part, but if they make a movie, audiences will want a happy ending, so--

"What's wrong, kid?"
"Grandpa, the Doctor says you are not going to make it."
"He's right."

They have some sort of conversation that makes the Grandson change his mind about something established in passing before the Old Man made the bet. The Devil (who is disguised as a doctor in the hospital) drops his clipboard, to symbolize that the old man beat the bet somehow and can keep his soul.

Conversation finishes like this:

"I'm getting sleepy now."
"I'll get the Doctor"
"No, don't. I'm ready for the big nap."

Grandson starts to cry.

"A good friend used to cheer me up when I felt sad, Malachi. Malachi, come here. I want to tell you a.. something."

Realizing that he alone will hear is grandfather's last words, Malachi leans forward attentively. The Old Man starts to fade. Gently, Malachi rouses the Old Man, who finally says:

"Why did the monkey fall out of the tree?"

He was dead.

The Least Original Idea Ever

2009-12-04T14:48:00.003-06:00

I know this is supposed to be the epi(lady)logue portion of this blog, but for the sake of my childhood next door neighboor, I want to make fun of a movie that I haven't and won't go see. It's called "Brothers" and its the Least Original Idea Ever.

The movie is about a Captain who goes to fight in a war, leaving his wife at home. Thinking he is dead, the wife is accidently unfaithful to the Captain. The Captain discovers this and a lot of bad stuff befalls both the Captain and a family member named Tommy. I think there is also a drunk old man in the movie who does bad stuff. Wow.

The canonical rant about X-mass music

2009-12-03T12:11:00.003-06:00

This is inspired by walking into the cafeteria at noon today and
yesterday and hearing the exact same point (almost to the note) of
"sleighride". Yes, its odd and scary that I had lunch at the same time
two days in a row. Does that make me Kant?
Anyhow, I am not referring to Christmas or "Winter Holidays" but Xmas,
the absurd post post post modern (modern modern.... Echo echo echo)
holiday that Charles Schulz and even Dakota ("People think the X
sounds like Christ? Who came up with that?") think are fake.
I got so sick of Xmas music that over the years I have purchased "a
muppet christmas", "a twisted christmas" (d synder), "christmas is 4
ever" (boots e collins), and "aquatic vampyres battle dolphin
paladins: a christmas opera" (not really, but wouldn't that be
awesome?), just to cut the sickly sweet frappe of cheese (tasty) with
something else; anything.
The epitome of this cheez is the movie "love actually" which involves
a really "inspirational" cover of "(all eye) want 4 x-mas (is) U"
originally ghostwritten for Mariah Carey. Its super easy to take pot
shots at ol' Maraiah, and very clever, so let's focus on the cheez.
What's so great about that song? The lyrics? Sing it. Don't look it
up. Now look it up. Did you get them right? If you did, you are
excused to resume reading your dog-eared copy of "Us" magazine. But
before you go... Your schmaltzy rendition of that yoddle without a
melody is what passes for a "hit"
In that spirit, I invite everyone to sing along schmaltzily to my Xmass hit:

Xmas comes at Xmas time
Xmas cheer with Xmas love
All around the Xmas tree
Merry Xmas--- you and me
(Refrain)
Xmas Xmas Xmas Xmas!
Xmas! Xmas-Xmas, Xmas.
Xmas! Xmas! Xmas!
Xma-aaaaasss!

;
How does the melody go? Do you pronounce the X in Xmas as X like X-ray
or like the Charlie Crist? Do you want to sing other lyrics? Go for it.
IT'S UP TO YOU!!!! Just be schmaltzy

Sandwich Therapy Breakthrough

2009-11-27T14:10:00.001-06:00

#12 Is a breakthrough in my Sandwich Therapy

The Thanksgiving Leftover Sandwich

Ingredients / Assembly sequence:

2 slices of stuffing bread. Jo gets unsliced sandwich bread, which I sliced thicker than normal but thinner than Texas toast. Place on a microwave safe plate.
Spread mashed sweet potatoes on it.
White meat, it's ok to show a little skin
Cranberry dressing on topof that
Dark meat on top of that
Stuffing on top of that
Spread mashed potatoes on the other slice of bread
Cut chunks of brie and jam it into the mash potatoes

Put the brie-tatoe slice on the palm of an open right hand and in a swooping motion, flip it onto the pile of food on top of the other slice. Microwave 30 seconds... DO NOT TOAST

Flip over sandwich, don't be afraid to touch it. Put a piece of pumpkin pie next to sandwich

Microwave another 30 seconds

Cup you palm and push the whole thing down. The fillings will spread out and be mushy with odd hot spots. Cut into triangles and use a big spoon to help eat. Wash it down with hot apple cider or OJ. Something fruity and acidic. Delicious

Count Your Blessings

2009-11-26T10:16:00.004-06:00

I admit that I don't often count my blessings. Part of it is fatalism: enumerating and explicating the good things in life is an invitation to have those things taken away. In part it is also because I often can be an ungrateful jerk who likes to complain about and expand upon the many hardships in life; big and little. But, Thanksgiving receives special dispensation from curses, so the first part is not a concern. And I'm working on the second part. Ergo:

My children. Every day with them is like gold.
My parents. They've gone on ahead, but are not gone. I am proud to be the link from #1 to #2 on this list.
Eugene. He likes brevity so...
Jo, my nieces, and the extended Li family
My sense of humor. Mom was right. It is really important for me in so many ways. Some guy yesterday said to me "You are aggressively smart, but you also seem like a funny guy and that makes you alright." If that could be the first impression that I make for the rest of my life, I'll take it!
Old friends. This trip has been like a mini-reunion, I've seen a lot of old friends. Its great to know that there are people out there who really get me, but they are spread all over the world. There are different ways to view that. I'll choose to say that they're inflitrating the collective unconsciousness, such that one day everyone will get me. I just read that over. Maybe I don't want the world to get me. "Ahhhh!!! The world's gonna get me!"
This photo of Cthulutu at carnivale (Thanks, Louren)
Being a lawyer. It was worth it. The point is not lost on me about how culture has really done a whole song and dance number on the profession on the profession in an effort to tarnish it's esteem. Nor am I blind to the proclivity of a few lawyers to live down to that dirtiness. But lawyers are like everybody else, and the system works to produce and maintain a competent group of qualified professionals. The result of this effort is nothing less than the frontline of keeping this great experiment called the United States going. Many areas of law (I had a list here, but it got lengthy; lengthier than this parenthetical remark; and anyhow it was besides the point, so the list is gone) seem to draw out attempts to impeach the character of practioners in that area who are merely doing exactly what they are supposed to be doing, which is to diffuse power. I know I've gone on at length before about Federalist No 51 "if men were angels, there'd be know need for government" and whatnot, but the crucial vitality of our system of checks and balances matters. It matters as much today as it ever did. To quote one of my greatest law professors "People around the world are literally willing to kill and die in order to have a legal system as good as ours"
walking. Spend some time on crutches and it'll be in your list too
information. I said I'd get back to this topic a few posts ago. Here it is: Although law school has totally cured me of the desire (and means) to ever be a student again, my appetite for consuming and digesting raw iinformation lives on. Yay!
Holidays. I needed a break and this is that break.

---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: Louren Li <lourenli@hotmail.com>
Date: Tue, 24 Nov 2009 16:25:49 -0500
Subject: Chthulu at carnivale
To: William Li <william.li@gmail.com>

--
Sent from my mobile device

Kids, watch this!

2009-11-25T01:00:00.001-06:00

My Thoughts About Thanksgiving (reprint)

2009-11-24T09:11:00.002-06:00

The following was originally published in 1981 for Ms. Edelstein's
first grade class. I suppose that makes it property of the Yonkers
School System or perhaps its dedicated to the public domain because
its academic writing. Anyhow, its the sort of thing only your mom will
keep:

MY THOUGHTS ABOUT THANKSGIVING

A long, long time in England there were Pilgrims. But they were not
happy. They had no freedom. So they sailed across the Atlantic Ocean
and they landed on Cape Cod thanks to the Mayflower. Some people, were
still alive after the winter. They found Squanto. They had a party and
the Indians got drunk and had the party for three days.

William

-----------------------------------------------

The point is not lost on me that if I were a first grader today,
writing an essay about death and drunkenness would draw a big fat
"letter home to Mom". I wonder how my mom would have reacted. No I
don't, she would have told the teacher to do her job and stop
bothering her. She would have also given some sort of lecture about
academic freedom.

--
Sent from my mobile device

William Li, for real not fiction

2009-11-22T16:25:00.014-06:00

I named a RPG character "William Li, for real not fiction."

Dr.Mitchell once told E$ that most of his students' first plays/novels/etc. are a thinly veiled pantomime of their unfulfilled fantasies. OK, but that's not really a criticism. "Your fantasy world is boring" or "You are a d-bag who, unlike the Heezy, we can't root for." Now, THAT's criticism. But I digress.

Fiction is a construct that can never be made real. I've spent a lot of time thinking about the ontological status of fictional universes. And trust me: fiction is always fiction. Naming a character with your name and adding the suffix "for real, not kidding I mean it" doesn't change it.

Neither does slavishly recreating it in real life (a la the first "Harry Potter" movie).

"What about the fact that the same images, characters, plots, feeling, etc. that you have... can also exist in someone else's head?" Good question that I've asked myself as a rhetorical device. Here is the answer:

"Abraham Lincoln"
"The mystery of the Adam Walsh kidnapping"
"The Challenger Disaster"

Get it? It is the ontological status of semiotics and memory, not of fictional characters. To illustrate further, you can also make fiction that is totally unsharable for those who didn't already have the necessary keys to decode the signal.

While visiting Palette town town, Ash saw a Chimchar evolve into Snorlax.
"Impossible!" he shouted.

Where am I going with this?

The topic that originally made me write about this at Rice (a few times, actually) and which still puzzles me is reality television. Starting with the 1970's PBS series, "An American Family", which featured The Loud family, and which was supposed to be mundane television about an upper middle class family but turned into juicy voyeurism, reality television seems to cast doubt on my ideas about the ontological status of fiction. To explain further: The Louds themselves were somehow freed by the presence of camera crews... The eldest son got a whole lot less closeted, the awkward daughter got a whole lot more bulimic, the bemused wife kicked out the overbearing jerk-face husband, and EVERYONE in America hated on them. Big time.

Today, The formula remains is basically unchanged.

But the format itself did not re-surge until the 90's with MTV's "The Real World." The original rationale for "The Real World" that Bunham and Murray had for using real people without scripts was to improvise a soap opera rather than pay writers. The essence of the genre is now various attempts to perfect this formula. My personal impression is that reality television is often a tautly-paced contest between real people trying to do an unscripted and grotesque hyperbole of what they think are the most interesting aspects of themselves, and the producers trying to keep the cast members drunk, tired, hungry, cut-off from any means of emotional anchoring, and under duress.

So at precisely what point, in this reality tv circus, does the fiction begin? My best guess is that fiction begins immediately. It flows from the bare lie of the whole contrivance.

But! There is a major difference from fiction. Notwithstanding, the fact that non-professional actors are merely pretending to be themselves, the real people who are on these reality tv shows can actually hurt each other; psychologically. The producers can really hurt them, too. And, as we saw with the Louds, pundits can really really hurt them (far more so than a TV critic could ever hurt an actor playing a character)

Most of this reads like a big "well... Duh." And I'm not satisfied to simply leave the issue there. Why should there be this dichotomy between the artifice that gives rise to fiction in reality tv and the very real human suffering? The answer has got to be "intent."

For a good demonstration of this, I recommend (no kidding) "Pauly Shore is Dead"

What, you say? You say Pauly Shore is really low brow and that he has no talent? You are so wrong. The movie is hilarious cringe humor with the sensibility and pacing of "Curb your enthusiasm" but with a much more likable protagonist.

Pauly is keenly aware of his meteoric rise and fancies himself to have had an F Scott Fitzgeraldesque fall. On this conceit, the movie milks the idea that Shore faking his death would be the ONLY way to revive his career for many laughs. (In real life, I believe he eventually went back to his family's business of running a big LA comedy club.) Stylistically, the movie stands out for the unrelenting stream of highly personal put downs and humiliations that Shore endures.

But, he is also the director.

That means, "the wee-zel" can yell "cut" whenever he wants. Moreover, all the actors are keen on making "Paul Shore, for real not just a character" as funny/real as possible. Big difference from reality TV, which just scoops up hours of footage and then plumbs it for the depths of human depravity.

Pauly Shore... solving life's mys-teries BUUU-dee

Dakota and Dad's recipe for Thanksgiving Cranberry Sauce

2009-11-21T12:10:00.001-06:00

People think that havinga a recipe for Thanksgiving cranberry sauce is
very important because of tradition. Here is ours:

Step one: get money
Step two: go to store
Step three: buy a can of canberry sauce
Step four: for Thanksgiving dinner, open the can and pour it into a fancy dish
Step five: put dish on table
Step six: say "Look we have cranberries"
Step seven: ignore the dish for the rest of dinner
Step eight: throw cranberries out

--
Sent from my mobile device

My idea of what poetry could and should be

2009-11-19T19:04:00.001-06:00

I
A Guy
A Guy who Buys Pies

Hi.

The Forgotten Joke about Moses

2009-11-18T23:50:00.000-06:00

I had something funny to say about this picture that I drew on MS Paint, but I started it months ago; well after I thought up the joke and then I forgot to finish the picture. Then I finished it a few weeks ago, then I forgot I had it. Now this is the sad end to a really funny joke.

This was a joke that was so funny, it would have made Angels cry tears of joy and deamons wet themselves. It would have united Yankees fans with so-called fans of baseball who do not love the Yankees. It would have turned cat people into dog people and dog people into fish people.

Such is the nature of things that don't come to pass. They are awesome beyond all get-out. We'll never know by how much my absurd hyperbole isn't so because I forgot.

But Will, you can't do that! You can't claim to have made up a funny joke and then when asked to tell just say "I forgot." That's even worse than stealing someone else's 40 year old punch line.

Well excuuuuuuuse me.

Duets (the Karaoke movie)

2009-11-12T06:42:00.001-06:00

I'm in the cafeteria, so I can't remember if I have already posted
this, but in any case, there ought to be at least one post about
Karaoke.

I re-watched "Duets" on cable the other day. As much as I'd like to be
more like Huey Lewis (and to sing like him too) the fact is that I am
more easily identifiable as Paul Giamatti. I think most working
professional men are, so its not a particularly stunning insight.

That said, there are many things the movie gets right and more that
the movie gets wrong. So in no particular order:

1. Karaoke contests are a rarity. The movie depicts a pro-am
underground of karaoke singers akin to "the color of money" (not akin
to "the hustler") but so far, I have only been in one Karaoke contest,
although I missed the Halloween "scary-oke" contest. Which brings me
to my next point:

2. Karaoke is extremely corny and the people who sing regularly are
nerds, like me. Except for Huey Lewis (who has made it hip to be
square) and Maria Bello, the movie is very accurate on this point.

3. The crowd is mainly indifferent unless you are awesome or
extremely terrible. Most people eek out an unimpressive middle. Paul
Giamatti on beta blockers getting the rock star treatment just doesn't
happen.

4. If you don't jump up on stage when you are called, you get skipped.
Maria Bello puking in the can... would get skipped.

5. True dorks bring their own CDs. Except now its a USB thumb drive
and the KJ kinda doesn't mind because it increases his catalog, but
Huey Lewis gettin his a** kicked for being the jerk with his own
special personal version of "Lonely Teardrops" is accurate in spirit.
Most places are not alright for fighting, not even on Friday nite.

6. Its better to have a friend. You don't need to know them all that
well either. So, a hitch-hiking escaped con, your newly discovered
illigetimate daughter, or a down-on-his-luck cabbie will definetely
fit the bill. Your local meetup.com group or the regular gang at the
watering hole will fill in those blanks, and that brings me to the
point of this post.

7. Singing is what you do for about 8 minutes of a 2 to 5 hour
evening. Most of the night, you will be working the nerve up and then
waiting. Have something else to do, preferably talking to your friends
and not getting fubar.

Here are some afterthoughts not related to the movie:

8. I think its ok to watch the TVs at a bar, not just special sports
events like the NCAA tourney. Its there and its on for a reason. You
don't have two or more TVs set up next to each other in your house, do
you? So relax and enjoy the Rockets, a re-run of "The Practice",
Jackie Chan and american sidekick buddy movie, and sham-wow commercial
all at once. You aren't being rude to the person singing.

9. But you can't play the jukebox during Karaoke.

10. If you are going to get up and dance to someone singing, the time
to do it is right before the first chorus. That way you know the
singer isn't butchering your song but there is still enough song left.

11. Karaoke night does not make a bad place better. But you and your
group taking over karaoke night can make any place fun... For you and
your group.

12. A good KJ can run a fun karaoke with even a bare minimum of songs
and the equivalent of a home boombox with a B and W monitor. A bad KJ
can destroy even the best setup.

13. The bartender likes tips. The KJ likes drinks. If its backwards
and the bartender drinks and the KJ has a cash tip jar: leave.

14. Caveat on #2, karaoke is sometimes also enjoyed by really really
old people. Its nice to have one person much older than the rest of
the crowd to be colorful, but a bunch of old people together means
you've walked into an old person bar.

15. There are a lot of great country songs to sing, and if you hear 5
in a row... You've walked into a country bar. If you hear 5 songs in a
row either in spanish or an asian language... You've walked into a
latino or asian bar. You will not get the same indicators for Celtic
themed bars.

16. Use your smartphone to lookup the lyrics before you go onstage.
Really you should do that even before you pick the song. You might be
surprised at how you only know one line to "I want you back (abc 123)"
or "come on eileen"

--
Sent from my mobile device

Whatever is the opposite of self-doubt

2009-11-08T11:38:00.005-06:00

This is how my kids see me. I was going to post this a week ago, but I got bronchitis. And the cat ate my homework. And gentrification, let's blame gentrification as well. Ok, back to the story. This is how the kids see me.

I was going to rent a costume at the RenFest, but Dakota had a very clear idea of how I should look and couldn't articulate it. But at the "House of Dra" as I was talking to the shop wench (chortle) Dakota jumps forward with the green tunic. At the haberdasher of doom (not the name, I just forgot what the other shop was really called). Dakota picked out the Robin Hood hat, which I was skeptical of because it is too small for my giant noggin. But Jason liked it too and the kids begged me to get it. So I say, that's how they see me.

I was out with a friend a few months ago who told me that my problem was that I aspired to be my family's white knight and how that wasn't realistic and anyhow unhealthy (as white knights are chaste, delusional, violent, and ultimately suicidal... nice, right?). I needed to change the story, be something else, see myself as something else.

"Maybe I could be a rouge, like Han Solo?"

"Nice, but I just don't think you're Han Solo."

Maybe not. And at 265 lbs, I am a bit more Little John than Robin Hood, but I certainly can be a "Merry Man." I always somehow think of Mermen, then Ethel Merman when I hear that phrase. But, I digress.

Maybe I could be the portly Robin Hood, the Howard Cunningham Robin Hood (think about it...) Anyhow, I wasn't going to post this one either, but after 2 AM Walmart shopping this morning, I watched "Robin Hood" (the one with Uma Thurman) on cable and saw the movie as a sign (yeah, a sign of bad sleeping habits!)

Actually the sign, or signs, are the two "blessings" that my kids picked up from the vendor who sold me the tunic. There was a stack of cards ("Imbued with magick... pick one m'lord") But because, I feel fairly cursed with when it comes to inanimate objects that predict my fate (I once got a fortune cookie that said "You suck!") I told the kids to each pick a blessing. And this is actually the point of this post, as each picked the perfect blessing for them.

Dakota picked:

When I examine myself and my methods of thought, I come to the conclusion that the gift of fantasy has meant more to me than my talent for absorbing positive knowledge.
-- Albert Einstein

Jason picked:

If there is any kindness I can show, or any good thing I can do to any fellow being, let me do it now and not deter or neglect it, as I shall not pass this way again.
-- William Penn

Self Doubt (Halloween Style)

2009-10-31T01:00:00.002-05:00

Decrypting Life's Mysteries

2009-10-28T20:28:00.003-05:00

It escaped my attention that Soupy Sales passed away. As far as comedians go, Soupy Sales is who I am most trying to emulate. This is a strange statement to make given my age, and perhaps deserves more consideration. Not for Sales, but for the person who is really fascinating: me!

I discovered that Sales died when I read an article in the NY Times that a new Yankees tradition is now to get a pie in the face when the Yankees win a home game on the last AB. If you are wondering who Soupy Sales is, click on the link, which is his Wikipedia article. And also: boo on you.

Anyhow, our own forgotten past and the effect it has had on our attitudes is one of life's mysteries to decrypt. This blog has helped me solve one of them. Why am I so fond of:

Soupy Sales
John Ritter
Dick Clark

Of course! When I was in elementary and there were no cartoons on TV, I would watch "$25,000 Pyramid" because it was a game show that I could understand and play along at home.

Deep....

Birthday In Hell

2009-10-24T09:48:00.003-05:00

A man, whose birthday has passed without remark for years, is thrown a surprise party on his 36th birthday, so surprising is this that he immediately dies and goes to hell-- unbeknowst to him. The deamons, look exactly like the party guests and begin with some insensitive remarks dressed up as birthday party sentiment.

Then the eternal tourture begins:

They sing the birthday song. Followed by

"How old are you now?
How old are you now?
How OLD ARE YOU no-ow?
How old are you now?"

To which he involuntarily responds in the format;

"I'm thirtysix years old now.
I'm thirtysix years old now.
I'm THIRTYSIX YEARS OLD no-ow.
I'm thirtysix years old now."

Complete with singing "thirtysix" faster in order to cram the sylables into the song like a bloated middle-age man into his varisty letter jacket.

But then, it doesn't end, they sing:

"So cut the cake now,
So cut the cake now,
So CUT THE CAKE no-ow,
So cut the cake now.

"I'll cut the cake now,
I'll cut the cake now,
I'll CUT THE CAKE no-ow.
I'll cut the cake now." He repliess gamely, not yet fully aware that he's in hell

"May I have a piece?
May I have a piece?
May I HAVE A peee-eece...
May I have a piece?"
Sings his demon-as-friend, Bob

"That's really funny, Bob." he sings, eyes widening as he continues,
"That's really funny, Bob."
And straining not to he nevertheless sings, "that's REALLY FUNNY Baaaaa-aaaahb! That's really funny, Bob."

"What's funnyaboutwanting cake?
What's funnyaboutwanting cake?
What's FUNNNY'BOUTWANTIN cay-ache?
What's funnyaboutwanting cake?"

"What's going on here?
I cantstop singingthis song?
Is THIS SOME KINDA jo-ke?
What's going on here?"

"No, you are in hell,
No, you are in hell,
No, YOU ARE IN helll-ellle,
No, you are in hell." Chant the deamons, revealing themselves in their true form and chaining Bob from the hang-down flourescent lights and commencing to rend his flesh with cake cutters and char his sinnew with birthday candles as Bob screams (in format, for a little counter-point harmony)

Then the entire cast turns to the blog audience and sings:

"Now its in your head,
You'll do it all day!
Every THING THAT YOU sa-ay!
Will be sung this way."

Sandwich Therapy

2009-10-19T12:42:00.003-05:00

At UHLC, there was a Subway that I ate at lots of times. (If this were spoken word, I would loop "ate at" and put it into the background as a hook. Get back!) I got really burned out on the food. Everyone is quick to blame it on being a bad location, but in all fairness, it was like any other Subway. I actually got burned out on the food itself: Sandwiches.

Strangely, the runner up restaurant, Popeye's Chicken, actually has a lasting place in my heart as a sentimental favorite. Probably also a place in my heart requiring statins, but nevermind...

Dakota, tragically, really likes Subway and I never want to go. But the Subway problem goes deeper. I find that I have acquired an antipathy to cold meat sandwiches. I mean, I can still eat a hot Panini sandwich melt, or one of the cold mayonaise sandwiches (egg, chken, tuna), or grilled cheese, or cheese and pickle, and marmite soldiers are still ok too... But the mainstay of sandwiches: a delicious stack of three types of meat on a hearty bread or hero loaded up with veggies cheeses and spreads, simply no longer appeals to me.

What made this really hit home was this crazy dream that I had last night. A mysterious old woman asked me to fly to London and prepare proper a sandwich (one without butter on the bread, and the correct sequence: slice of bread, lettuce, meat, tomato in the MIDDLE, cheese, more meat, lettuce, even coat of mayo or mustard, bread, push down with a clean hand until the lettuce crackles, cut into triangles, and served with a water-bath chilled crudite of julienned carrot sticks, cucumber, pitted black olives, celery with the strings pulled off, and asparagus spears) and deliver it to the niece of the old woman. Naturally, the whole thing was an elaborate ruse devised to draw me into the heart of an internecine conflict between irreconcilable factions of a secret society (witch-fighting spies who can phase matter and cut and cook food with their minds) where the object of the struggle was to control a mystical winged giraffe/camel/cow (very very very hungry pet with many stomach) creature.

Anyhow, while evading agents from within the secret society, I was put into harms way and had to battle witches and their familiars by fixing them sandwiches, but none of the sandwiches in my dream looked yummy to me.

Today, I went to the deli and got a panini. Nothing on the menu looked good.

I think I need to really dedicate some time to rediscovering what I like about sandwiches: different breads, cold cuts, vegetables, spreads.

I still only like Helmann's mayonaise and get violently ill when I think of Miracle Whip... So that part of this journey is over.

Also the "TV knife" that Eugene got me, is still just as sharp as the day I first used it. It's amazingly versatile. Light, thin, made of surgical steel. It slices, it dices. Sturdy enough to saw through a lamb shank and yet tomato after tomato comes out beautifully. Once I set the whole thing on fire by accident, the handle got a bit morphed, but the utensil is still in great shape. It proudly shares my knife block with my Henckles set. I might need 5 more knives of different shapes and varieties were it not for this beauty. And did I mention it never needs sharpening? How much would you pay for a knife like this? I DONT KNOW IT WAS A GIFT!
--
Sent from my mobile device

Peristalsis

2009-10-15T04:26:00.002-05:00

AJ Webster once posed a thought problem to Dave and I, thinking the answer was obviously "Sleep."

The problem was to consider our biological functions. If we could chose one to make somehow unnecessary, what would it be?

To me the obvious answer was to replace peristalsis with some sort of internal vacuum to push food through our GI tract, although because this was a pressure based solution, it would make digestion in space and air
travel more complicated.

My runner up idea was to replace walking as the method of ambulation with some sort of cilia + air cushion "ground effect"

The obvious answer was not "sleep"
--
Sent from my mobile device

The Pirate and the Unicorn

2009-10-13T22:32:00.008-05:00

Daddy can we watch TV? No. Got to bed. One more show? No. Go to sleep now. Be asleep! Daddy we not tired, please read us! Naughty children, sleep! Daddy tell us a story, please? We love you!

Ok. I will tell you a story. Yay! Once there was a pirate. Yar!!! That's right, he was mean and evil and his name was Blackbeard. We heard about him on PBS. No, this is a different one. Blackbeard was so mean that he punched a shark in the face! Then the shark bit his fist off, so he put a hook at the end of his arm instead. Daddy this story is too scary and I will have nightmares.

One day Blackbeard was looking for people to be mean to, but he found an island with a Unicorn instead. Pirate poke unicorn eye! Well, he certainly tried to. Like I said, he was very mean and evil, but the Unicorn had a horn on his head and was a skilled duelist. The Unicorn easily parried the pirate's hook. Then the Unicorn used "Rainbow Magic" to turn the hook into a pineapple.

The other pirates were very hungry and tried to eat the pineapple at the end of Blackbeard's hand.

"Avast ye scurvy swabs! First of ye lay mitts on me pineapple shall 'ave 'is 'ead bashed against the mizzenmast! Arr arr arrr"

"Um, beggin your pardon cap'n, but as a matter o' fact, we do 'ave scurvy. Its why the delicious tropical fruit that the unicorn transformed your prosethetic limb into looks so delicious."

What do you think happened next Dakota? Then they found lots of fruit and nobody had to be eaten. Ok, I can work with that.

"Look o'er thaRRRn ye swarthy devils"

I don't like the Devil. Dakota, Blackbeard calls his own crew names because he's so mean. Maybe he's just sad. Yes, I am sure the pressures of being a villian make him lonely and unhappy. Let's get back to the story.

"Look o'er thaRRRn ye swarthy devils... Thar she boughs laden with fru-its"

"Oh yes, it will be much easier to get fruit from defenseless trees than to try to wrestle a single pineapple hand from our sociopathetic captain"

So the crew got rum from the ship and had pina coladas and coconut daquiris. They felt so happy that in the evening, they had a clam bake and sang sea shanties until they all fell down on their booty and went to sleep.

Zzzz. Zzzz.

The end.

Coinstar is now free

2009-10-11T15:19:00.004-05:00

As long as you are getting the money to buy an amazon gift card or itunes gift certificate. Actually, this seems pretty fair to me, but a few things come to mind:

1. Whenever I see coinstar, I think about Trav's favorite snl commerical. I don't know for sure if it's his favoirte, but I'll say it is.

2. Something about the death of thrift being overblown. I saw a TV show (Community on NBC), where the smart-alec character says "All money is spending money"

Home

2009-10-10T16:55:00.005-05:00

About two years ago, I lived in Sugar Land, Texas. I went across the railroad tracks to live next to the prison farm. How very bluesman.

On Memorial day this year, I let some of the blues out of my hohner pro harp with the blown reed at a biker bar's open mic jam session. That was so blues, it could be metal.

This weekend, I excitedly went to the grand opening of a new Kroeger. Its not just a grocery store. They also have an in-store starbucks and they sell a lot of home decor. I bought some eggs and drove home.
Passing the entrance of my subdivision, I waved to Officer Mac, who patrols our neighborhood. He was in his hiding spot by the tennis court.

I also passed the undeveloped and undevelopable part of the subdivision; under the raised power lines that run back to the power substation transformer. Seeing it always makes me think back

When Eugene and I picked a final resting place for my Dad, it was on a hill next to the same power line structures; like the bones of giants, all of whom struck dead at once by a wizard, while they were reaching up to the sky. Eugene said "I am not sure about leaving him here, its peaceful and green but I don't like the power lines."

"That's so funny, this is the first place I like and its ONLY because of the power lines"

And of course, I grew up with a power substantion transformer behind my back yard....

Back at the house, I made a salad and listened to Ben Folds.

Later, I heard a joke "What's a pirates favorite type of sock? ARRRRgyle!"

"I used the same thinking to pick my model toyota..."

No response.

I stayed up late chatting online with the Kongai crowd. My main deck no longer leads with CC equiped with Necromantic Tomes, does this mean that strategy is played out? Does it even matter with series two now in late beta? One of the more experienced players typed, " Srysly! o.O"

(Carmelo's)

Today, I am having an early dinner at "Carmelo's", a tacqueria, and one of four places where I am greated with "Hey, Mr. William! The usual?"

When I was a sophmore at Rice, I decided to try to write fiction. I used an old manual typewriter and tried to start stories before the beginning and end them after the end, as if watching drama unfold at a
subway or bus stop; people watching rather than narration. Good in theory, but I'm not Uatu.

More accuarate is that much of my narrative does not have much point. For example, the point of this post is that I feel at home. As per usual, I have made the point after a painfully long build-up. Now I got two choices: end this post abruptly or trail off.

Before I make the choice, I want to let you know: the painfully long build up is not on purpose, I swear. Its just a product of that part of me where I lack self-awareness. Once I realize that it's happened again, then the sudden end or trailing off

3AM at Walmart

2009-10-08T00:52:00.007-05:00

I have a confession to make: I like to shop at Walmart at 3AM on Sunday morning when the kids are with Louren. I buy kitty litter, biscuit dough, fruit roll ups, milk... stuff like that. I got really crazy last time and bought a light fixture that doesn't work. I admit, in this time of no shame, that's not much of a confession. But it's not nothing, I suppose. I am supposed to be a snob, right? I'm supposed to not like Walmart because they don't sell brie and their customers are fashion victims? To hell with that. At 3AM, the store is brightly lit and busy with restocking activity. The ratio of employees to customers is about 8 to 3. I can alway find what I am looking for, which is usually kitty litter, biscuit dough, fruit roll ups, milk... stuff like that. More importantly is that, I should be tired, but I'm not. I can't sleep.

Recently, Eugene gave me the brilliant advice "lay in bed and breathe deeply". Its like telling an illiterate person to sound out the words.

There is actually a decent episode of Family Ties about insomnia. Elsie ultimately tells Alex to try to appreciate that its a time to be quietly enjoyed rather than merely endured or vainly fought.

I learned all about not sleeping in college. Not sleeping was actually pretty good for certain COMP classes. Not sleeping also allowed me to cover a double-shift at KTRU with Andy Chen. This lead me to London, which had its offies (I almost certainly went to one of these on Calloway Road mentioned in this article) and its casinos (Can you bring me a double scotch and a pickle and Leicester sandwich?), dubious raves in warehouses under bridges, or you could just wander the empty streets until the tubes re-open (weren't you worried about getting mugged? if a mugger wanted my London A-Z, he was welcome to it), or there was always the cyberspace stand-by in the form of the VT220 terminals in the refrectory that I had the Uni turn on so that Chewy, Big I, and Duncan could play Nanveant ("Pass the felix, I'm going to smoke a fag while Cheeselord completes the Lily quest, again."). And not sleeping lead me all over Europe on trains that ran all the time and went various places.

What I learned about not sleeping is that night turns into day. There isn't anything mystical about staying up.

I also learned that sleep is important because the one of most powerful forces in humanity is narrative, which likes to be episodic. You can't roll credits on the day unless you go to sleep.

Also not sleeping makes you tired.

To be continued....

Super Personnel Person's Universe

2009-09-29T23:07:00.012-05:00

Super Personnel Person is like my other cartoon, Commuter Notes and Parables, in that it deals with the anxieties of urban middle class professionals in a world where their skill sometimes applies but other hostile and indifferent forces like crime, magic, the military, disease, nature, aliens, ghosts, and machines also have their way. More to the point, none of the superheros do stuff like... fly, turn invisible, or errupt into flame. Just to review and flesh out the characters thus far mentioned, we have:

Super Personnel Person: Tremendous force of HR competence. His most impressive power has to do with never forgetting, mispelling, or mispronouncing anyone's name -- ever.*
Bad News Monsters: Nickname for the shock troopers and space craft crew of an extra-terrestrial invasion force.
Good News Guys: Nickname for a USAF unit of interceptor fighters whose mission is to shoot down extra-terrestrial invasion craft. The interceptor fighter aircraft have a very very high altitude limit
Michaels Dipetrillios - Works in IT. Is excellent at "Halo". Until Super Personnel Person fixes the situation, he is constantly getting both correspondence and other documents intended for Michelles DiPetrelleous.
Michelles DiPetrelleous - Works as a purchasing agent at a molybdenum solube recovery facility, was recently promoted to be the commodities family manager for solvents. Secretly huffs ammonia. As an added joke, he has shaved and waxed his head. For whatever reason, is never mistaken for Michaels Dipetrillious, but did know a person named Creighton who worked at the Crate and Barrel.
Captain Bombastic - Foreman of a private security subcontractor assigned to protect a corn processing plant that produces high-protein feed for cattle, microwave popcorn, and a biofuel slurry. Wears a cape all the time, has an absenteeism problem because he dreams that he is off "fighting crime."
Dr. Obvioüs - Provactive college professor forced to take a sabatical after his derision of Lakoff & Johnson gets too personal. Tends to insult people with ironic euphemisms.
Unnamed companion to Super Personnel Person, an attractive female with little or no dialog, and whose relationship to Super Personnel Person is never explained.
Colm Meaney. "I'd have to license the name and likeness rights. Anyone know his agent?"
The Joke Explainer. A cable news commentator who ruins the plots of a "gallows humor"-based criminal terrorist through painfully dull explanations of why particular jokes are funny.
*Crabby Aunt. Neutralizes Super Personnel Person's powers.
Likely Supreme Court Justice Nominee. A jurist so concerned about avoiding controversy in her expected Supreme Court nomination that for years she has hidden behind erudition and circumlocutions. "Eschew obfuscation!" she proclaims with unintended irony during an oral argument .
Isomniac - when you don't sleep, its always "me time"
The Sudukoan. A supervillian whose schemes combine the elements of the portmanteau after which he is named.
Hackney Cliche aka The Archnemesis An enduring stereotype of the former super hero turned criminal mastermind
Jargonizer. A robust, proactive, results-driven, facilitator-challenger with an outside the box vision of incentivizing productive synergies by task-orientatating best practices from lessons learned and gap analysissies to achieve total quality in a colloborative workflow without borders! I find this villian to be especially horrible.
Morris Bergeron aka Bergeron Morris aka Cartaphilus . From Houma, was visiting New Orleans when Hurrican Rita struck. Was mistakenly relocated to Wasilla by Red Cross hurricane relief workers after FEMA transposed his first and last name. He has been trying unsuccessfully to get back home. Morris Bergeron, it turns out, has been relocated a lot, and has changed his name many times. The oldest name he can remember is Cartaphilus, he had "like, maybe 20 other names before that." He was "the man carrying a jar of water" outside Jersusalem and essentially was the caterer of the Last Supper. Like many caterers, the significance of the dinner and the diners is totally lost on him. When the Romans rounded everybody up for arrest, he truthfully said, "Jesus? I can't seem to recall anyone by that name" because his only direct interactions were with Peter and James. As the buzz went around Jerusalem, he ultimately is able to put 2 & 2 together, such that he realizes who Jesus is, and actually ends up the on the Via Dolorosa with his water jug, trying apologize to Jesus. Jesus, who at this point is really tired (and had just fallen), drinks some water from the jug, and realizes that he hasn't been listening to the apology. But because he's Jesus, he's catches the general drift (Jesus is a sharp guy) and says, "Listen, I forgot your name, too. Its not important. Anyway, its not a problem, and I am certain that people will forget all about this." Cartaphilus makes an anxious face, so Jesus says to him "Look, I really have to finish up what I'm doing here. I can see that you are anxious, so just to give you some perspective, by the end of the day, you'll come out of all this with eternal life, how does that sound?" "Good, I guess", Cartaphilus replies with some confusion. Then, handing the jug back and patting him on the shoulder, Jesus adds in a rare show of biblical sardonic pique, "You guess? Ok, Great! Thanks for the drink. I'll see ya at the end of the world..." [take that, Dan Brown, you two-bit hack] Super Personnel Person unfolds this story over many episodes. Aspects of this story which are not critical to human resources work are not uncovered through Super Personnel Person's superpower. So for example, when Super Personnel Person looks at Morris Bergeron's personal information form and knows that the Red Cross messed up by transposing the surname and family name, or that Bergeron is mispronoucing his own name... that's superpower. But when Unnamed Companion realizes that Morris converted from Judiasm to Christianity "a long time ago", and asks why Super Personnel Person didn't know that, Super Personnel Person replies, "I don't see how that's important. Oh... am I being culturally insensitive?"

Super Personnel Person works for the business services division of a company that makes Mecha. Like all people in the business services division of a company that makes hardware (e.g. HP), his mission is ambigious. Some episodes find him managing HR for an external client, sometimes he resolves labor or employee problems for an internal business unit, and sometimes he finds himself in a non-HR function but applying his HR superpowers; Basically anything to put Super Personnel Person into an absurb business setting where absurb people work and absurd problems are only fixable through absurd solutions.

My inspiration for this comes from The Flinstones and The Jetsons. I watched these shows a lot before I was in 2nd grade and was subsequently disappointed to find that no cartoons since have taken on the workplace so often or in such a looney way. Even later junk, like the Flintstone movie where Pebbles and BamBam are preparing for their baby, features BamBam under pressure to give up being a screenwriter by going back to his old job in construction and Pebbles attempting to prevent the office sychophant from stealing her position as a Ad Agency VP while she is on maternity leave (seriously, that's the plot).

Although The Simpsons and King of the Hill take these issues on (sort of), I find them both to be deficient as workplace cartoons. The closest contemporary equivalent is Dilbert , which is often deeply unfunny on purpose; I don't like that.

The mecha thing is because I like fighting robots. Although not just used for fighting in Super Personnel Person's universe, that's their plurality use. This is one area that's not all funny, but has some "disarmament agenda." The genius of capitalism causes personal robots to become very affordable, but only because of mass production. The need of the mecha industry to create and big the consumer demand, coupled with the perception of Mecha as a hybrid of personal property and firearms (i.e. an important and inelienable individual freedom), turn the proliferation of armed Mecha into an unstopable social force. The result is a diffusion of geopolitical influence that has severely disrupted and erroded the ability of the "superpowers" ability to project force or impact economic markets. Rich individuals, who have managed have managed to become recognized as de facto nation states because of their mecha-created wealth, are constantly waging private wars against one another (using mecha as the implements of force), but in the process, causing loads of collateral damage and general misery.

I haven't tried to draw this comic. After the disappointing failure of "The Inside Joke" I would rather write it.
And of course, I can't think of any series or episode main-line plots, which is why I've only done characters, subplots, settings, and general premise.

Dermabond, America

2009-09-26T23:50:00.027-05:00

It is 11 PM. The kids and I are at the 59 Diner on Kirkwood. Dakota and Jason split a plate of Mac n'Cheese, and a vanilla shake. I had a Buffalo Burger -- all the way Texas style, and a black&white shake. We all split my fries.
Jason is talking to me. I can't focus on what he is saying because I am looking at the purple sparkly Dermabond that has sealed his Harry Potter scar. Earlier this evening, I had the idea to have the kids actually help me clean the house, so that they'd be tired before bed. That lasted about 3 minutes before Jason managed to lacerate his forehead on the kitchen counter like Leland Palmer possessed by evil Bob at the end of season 1 of Twin Peaks. My smallbig boy was crying and holding his forehead. When I pulled his hands away to inspect the cut, he started screaming from the blood on his hands, but I was calm. At least I was in the house. Driving through the inky blackness of 99 at night, the humidity and the darkness just feels like uncertainty. Somehow I got to thinking about past medical bills and about the mendacity of the insurance system. Nevertheless, my anguish and trepidation dissipated as I pulled up to the ER entrance.
When I was just a bit more than Jason's age, I cut my chin on the water slide at Sprain Ridge pool. They shot me a local and gave me a stitch that took several weeks to heal. I have a sweet scar; still visible. I was calm in the kitchen because using a butterfly closure to staunch the dripping from the fresh roast beef sandwich on my son's forehead brought back familiar memories. But medical technology has improved a lot in 29 years. Dermabond is essentially a skin glue with scar-preventing properties, and that's all they needed.
Jason looks at me and smiles "This shake is so yummy!" He rubs his belly through his "Woodsie the Owl" t-shirt (give a hoot don't pollute) and laughs because he is tickling himself.
Dakota is coloring in Disney princesses. When we got to the ER, she drilled the intake personnel with the facts (thisisjasonheismybrother. thatsfirstnamejasonlastnamelispelled "L-I" andhehithisheadonthekitchenisland AND I AM REALLY WORRIED!) And truly, she was trembling. Her eyes were wide like saucers; becoming moist as she fought to maintain her composure. The hospital staff seemed genuinely touched by this sincere and sincerely smart big sister. So they gave her some crayons, some pages to color, and they reassured her.

"Daddy, may I be excused to play the jukebox?"

"Knock yourself out, princess. It's free"

After selecting "the big bopper" she comes back and neatly finishes Cinderella's ball gown. The other dining patrons are diggin' the tune, too. All around us are high school kids, these are the clean cut ones who don't drink and who went to the football game. Apparently some of the high school games are also on saturday night. They are also enjoying burgers fries and shakes.
We could only be in America.
When I was young, I would watch "Happy Days" and dream about an America that cynical adults said never was and didn't exist. Here it is, though. An actualization in the present of a past that never was. And I am living it.
Its not a place without its problems. Behind Dakota's touching concern for her brother are the beginnings of the unhealthy anxieties of a divorced kid. This phenomon is now decades old here and I would have recognized even if I wasn't myself a divorced kid, but as I am, it's quite plain. And speaking of unhealthy, if the cholesterol in my food, speeds a fatal heart disease, apparently I will be part of the plurality. All of which inevitability points me to the class tensions and racial tensions lurking in the background; a legacy of ancestral evil that stubbornly refused to be extricated from heritage and thusly endures.
But these problems are also somewhat evidentiary of the conclusion that, ultimately, this really is a good place. Not because America is perfect but because of how it aspires to be all the right kinds of better. Cynics can rightly observe that many of the measures enacted to realize improvements are baby steps or two steps forward mixed with one step back, but I'll take that.
The kids see both their parents almost every day, the menu boasts "no trans-fats!", delicious moderately priced food is egalitarian, and tonight in this simulacrum of a late 1950's diner, there is mosiac of different races and ethnicities co-existing thanks to a veneer of friendliness and hospitality which forces an indifference to whatever tensions still exist today. All of this combines to make this place that never was, much better than any place that actually could have been in 1959.
As I share a meal with my family, and appreciate America, these patriotic lyrics play in my head:

These days are all, happy and free.
These days are all, share them with me.

Dermabond.

Eulogy revisted

2009-09-22T01:35:00.017-05:00

Dear Mom,
Its been a month and I miss you. I listened to my old voicemail at work and there was one from you. I listened to it over and over again.
In our time together, I complained to you about my circumstances a whole lot. In listening, you never really offered me any good advice; though not for a lack of having something to say. It was amazing. To summarize, you had great confidence that I would somehow figure it out, you were more worried about how hard I took things, and you felt that I needed to laugh it off more. "Find the feather!", you'd say.
I'm working on it. You should see my facebook status updates; funniest material in years. You know how much Grandma loved those sad scary clowns! Are you and she together? I hope you two understand each other better now. I know how much you and she loved each other.
If souls _are_ reunited in the hereafter, I am sure you are happy to see Granpa again. It is not lost on me that he died when you were the same age that I am now. I had his books shipped to me, they are a fascinating collection. I thought I had something else to say about that. I guess not.
You did a great job, Mom. I feel prepared for this time in my life. I understand the sort of strength it took for you to persevere; balancing parenthood and career on your own. I am amazed at the determination that you showed to face your own mortality: your physical strength shattered from illness, and even your faculties began to betray you, but you did not waiver. Nor did you shy away from the humanity of it all, there was no false stoicism. You stated matter-of-factly that "all things break down" and that sometimes you can't help crying about it. You warned me that people spend too much time being afraid that they will feel sad and trying to avoid it. Then you said "boo-hoo hoo!" to mock those people; classic.
But, I take your point: Sorrow is appropriate now, and grief is a state of being that is necessary in the fullness of life. It hurts, but I can complain. Here's my complaint: my grief, hurts. Brilliant, right?
Or our other great strategy; changing the topic. The passage from scripture that I chose for your eulogy, Phil 1:9-11, really was based on a memory. You often seemed to be impressed by my recall. In candor, Google certaintly helps out with the precision. But it isn't a trick or a put-on. Nor was it a random connection, just a circuitious one. How appropriate for you and I!
I wonder if you ever really believed me about becoming a Christian. I think most people who know me find it to be something of a puzzle: They can't quite place their finger on what (if anything) is different about me. I never said that I appreciate how you were encouraging me to find a church home as a means of re-rooting my life after my divorce. In fact, my response to your suggestion was sarcastic and far less than appreciative. I'm sorry. I also appreciate that you were, nevertheless, uncritically accepting of my assessment that being a member of some congregation somewhere (with ceremonies, and the coffee hour, and the pancake suppers, etc.) was neither the most important part of being a Christian nor of getting my life re-rooted. "Ok," you said, "You'll figure it out."
But anyway, it wasn't random that I chose this scripture.

And it is my prayer that your love may abound more and more, with knowledge and all discernment, so that you may approve what is excellent, and may be pure and blameless for the day of Christ, filled with the fruits of righteousness which come through Jesus Christ, to the glory and praise of God.

First of all, its a prayer. Prayers are always a good way to go. Superficially, its a prayer about leveraging knowledge in order to live a sincere and righteous life. Meh.
The larger theme of the prayer (only gleaned from reading the whole epistle, but nevermind) is about living a life full of Joy. In fact, the only reason I was even sensistived to the topic was that we did as a Sunday School class at Southminster, and I found it struck a chord with me. The study was somebody's home brew, not a Cokesbury series (or Zondervian or whatever is the brand name)and so it was more of the sort of personal testament that you always found moving; me too. The main point from the study leader was that Joy was neither the fullfilment of pleasure-seeking nor the unrealistic expectation that God's role in your life was to make you happy all the time. It was more like a relief; a comfort in the knowledge that no matter what, God still loves us. A love stronger than anything, stronger than illness or misunderstanding or tragedy or fear or death. Stronger than a dangling participle.
I know that you always loved me, no matter what. And that you love me now. And I love you too. I closed with these words:
"...there were adventures, there were hardships, but mixed with laughter and togetherness made all the difference. May God bless the soul of my Mom"
Love,
William

Time Verge Love Triangle Plot Matrix (click on post title to view better)

2009-09-21T22:12:00.005-05:00


.		Alex	Bob	Caroline	Dead Alex
.	1950		Born	Born
.	1970	Exverges from 2010		Gets engaged to Bob
.	1971	Meets Bob	Meets Alex	Falls in love with Alex
.	1972	Sleeps with Caroline the night before her wedding to Bob.	Leaves Caroline at the alter after catching her and Alex in flagrante	Sleeps with Alex, is left at altar.
.	1975	Transverges his birth and the obvergent period since his advergence to 1970 to 2015. Birth		Heartbroken and freaked out when Alex transverges before her eyes.
.	1980		Rejects Caroline's effort to reconcile. Gain time travel insight	Spurned by Bob
.	2000			Commits suicide.
.	2001		Kills Alex
.	2010	Adverges to 1970			Dead Alex doesn't adverge to 1970
.	2011		Loses memory of meeting Alex	Suicide Caroline does not call in love with Alex	Dead Alex doesn't meet Bob.
.	2012		Loses memory of Caroline's infidelity, but retains memory of remembering and wanting revenge. Remembers marrying Caroline. So here it can be said that from 1972 to 2012, Bob and Caroline were not marries but from 2012 on, Bob and Caroline have been married since 1972.	Suicide Caroline does not sleep with Alex, marries Bob. Remembers memories from 1972 to 2000, but those memories start to disappear at present-time. Memories from 2000 to 2012 start to re-appear at present-time pace	Dead Alex doesn't prevent Bob's wedding.
.	2015	Exverges from 1975
.	2016	Tries to reconcile Caroline		Caroline cannot remember Alex but remembers her memories of Alex after 1976 and is confused, rejects Alex.
.	2040			Loses memory of suicide but has all memories of 2000 to 2040 both with and without memory confusion
.	2041	Has a nightmare, doesn't know about what.	Loses memory of killing Alex, but remembers memories of killing Alex		Dead Alex not killed
.	2049	Tries to reconcile with Bob	Bob forgives Alex, but is confused.
.	2050	Remembers being killed in 2001 and dies.	Loses all memory and gains it all back. Has heart attack.	Remembers commiting suicide in 2000 and dies	Dead Alex reverges with Alex to 1970
.

Two Songs By Jason

2009-09-19T19:09:00.000-05:00

Jason composed two songs. I made a video of one and I figured out the chords for the other. I wrote down the lyrics for both. They are as good as anything I have ever written. I mean, maybe not as "clever" but certainly every bit as expressive as I try to be and a whole lot less cautious about exposing emotional vunerability. In short, I love these songs, like I love my son.

Without further ado:

A year with packpack
Last night
they drop stuff in packpack
And packpack is for me
And I go to school
And I put packpack on school table
And play
and play and play and play and play and play and play and play
and play and play and play

Go
To
And go and go to
And go to sleep
And its snowing
And Santa puts presents
everywhere
and go back to the moon

One day there was stuff in
packpack
it was under 'puter and 'kota play games
'kota play tool game
and car fix

One day there was stuff in packpack and
Go
To
party -- dance party
I mean, it was his birthday
and his present was
a funny bear and 'inosaurs
and stuff
and throw 'way present paper
presents for trashcan

GOOD NIGHT!

====================
Bad Monkey Dragon (chords in italics)
C
there once was a monkey dragon
em
he's destroying houses
F
and destroying pictures
C

and destroying shirt
em
and destroying tv's
F
because tv are not turned on
C
monkey dragon wants to turn tvs on
em
but he wants this song ending even more
F
so he destroyed some toys
F
and stepped on them
em
and that's a bad
F
monkey
c
dragon

and goodnight!

ENTJ

2009-09-17T23:32:00.000-05:00

It's incredible. I have never scored anything but this since I first took this test at 15. What's incredible about that is I feel very different about life now than I did then. I also scored ENTJ before I got married.

What's especially weird is that I always think I am answering the questions very differently from last time, but the preference levels have been the same too.

Some rules for time travel (for a fictional universe, not based on physics)

2009-09-16T22:31:00.003-05:00

First: You can't be in two places at once. More precisely, you can only be in one place at one time. If you are already somewhere somewhen, then you can't go there.
Second: When you leave for another time, you stop traveling through the present. In other words, while you are out in the past or in the future, time marches on.
Third: You have to travel through space to travel through time.
Fourth: How you travel through space is how you travel through time. A trip from time "a" to time "b" requires traveling between two corresponding points in space at a specifc velocity and angular
momentum.
Fifth: Time travel trips move you a relative time distance. So going from the entry point to the exit point at the correct speed with the correct spin will always exit you the same amount of time delta,
unless you are already in that space, in which case you will just continue to travel through the present.
Six: Do you need some sort of special vehicle? Strictly speaking, the proverbial "time machine" is not necessary. Your vehicle merely needs to be precise with respect to coordinate, vector, and spin. In fact, you don't need a vehicle at all, just precision. Occasionally someone just disappears because they were
walking around a corner at the right speed for that starting and exit place and »BOOP!«
Seven: Occassionally a time traveller tries to visit those intersitial periods between when he left and when he came back. One of three things happens when they come to a time when they already will be there
either they go to the immediate time there after so if they enter at 1PM CST and will already be at 2PM CST for 38 minutes, they may jump ahead 38 minutes after an hour. OR they may snap back to their entry
time. OR they may end up in at a time relative to the entry time plus the length of time spent in another time. Its not clear what determines what will happen.

Some more notes:

"vergere tempus" is the latin phrase for time travel under these rules. It captures the bending, inclined nature of diverge or converge or just being on the verge of something just around the corner. Neither "jump" nor "go" really cut it for me. I want time travellers to adverge from their current trajectory in present time and exverge in another time, only to transverge over a time where they already are, but when they exverge again, they find that the obvergent time from where they already is skipped.

I have a whole love triangle plot worked out based on this.

Epilogue

2009-09-16T00:05:00.008-05:00

I started this blog before I started law school but after I knew I was going. I have passed the bar and am practicing law. You will notice that I never talk about work. I don't even say who I work for, it doesn't matter. I have nothing else to say about that.

Kurt Vonnegut had something to say about people living out the epilogue of their lives. I should really know his works better because I did my term paper for Uncle Joe (11th Grade) on the (then) complete works of Kurt Vonnegut. But I don't have more than a vague idea about a series of books that I read 20 years ago, other than to say that this is not the epilogue of my life, but its definitely reached the end of a story arc of some sort.

I spent much of my life loving to be a student and being good at it. And I never want to go back to school ever again if I can possibly help it. I have other things to say about that.

I never thought I would be single again. I assumed that I would die tragically in my 60s and leave behind a rich, grieving widow. That might still happen, but it won't be my first choice. Much could be said about my divorce. Not much of it interesting, and if you read this blog, you've probably heard it anyway (in private, where its appropriate to discuss such things). To the extent that I have used this format to expressed myself on this topic, it has been in through what I've chosen not to say about it; on purpose. If you go back for the last few years and read what I haven't written, and you'll see what I mean.

Does facebook compete?
Not for good content, at least.
no haiku over there!

I didn't want to end 3 of 4 on the death of my mother. Besides, my blog has left a few lose ends that I wanted to clear up. For the sake of irony, I will say that if you have been reading this blog since the beginning ,and are looking for a series of posts that will explain all the non sequiturs, and let you in on all the inside jokes, then you should read these epilogue posts.

I want to start with a segue about what I learned about my Mom from her books and papers. My mom used to write me emails, and then not send them. But instead, she'd transfer them to ClarisWorks, change around the fonts, then print the letter out, and then color some of the letters in some of the words. The text itself was always full of elipitical statements, vague allusions, and dangling participles. They read like love letters from a reformed ransom note artist.

I discovered these crazy letters were not the result of a random thought followed by a craft project. No. Mom started out with some ideas that she'd jot down on a yellow legal pad. Then she'd write a draft and edit it for grammar. At some point she'd have a lucid message. But unhappy with her tone, she'd start to self-censor: obscuring things that made her uncomfortable by trying to be clever or eccentric. She loved me very much, but she was embarassed to feel so strongly.

When we spoke on the phone, our conversations were like the tea-cup ride at DisneyWorld: a carousel with little carousels inside, madness decorated with frenetic civility and imprecise historical references. The shared experience of taking an idea and talking it round and round--- that was what put her in such a good mood. And putting her in a good mood put me in a good mood. Nobody has ever really enjoyed turning ideas on their head as much as her. But it can be hard on the people who love you when you insist on being outside the box all the time.

So... What do I do with these late night confessions of seeing myself reflected in my impressions of her?

...

There is nothing to do. And it is a mistake to assume that one must do something with insight. Trying to wrap it all up into a proverb or kohan

Please visit the memorial website for my mother.

2009-08-26T11:56:00.003-05:00

Eugene and I put up this page to honor her memory.

http://gladysmli.blogspot.com

While I invite you to share memories in honor of my mother on her site, I must also apologize for removing all the contributors to 3 of 4, but in this case, I really must insist on having the last word.

Did you ever notice that whenever there is a lull in the conversation, you talk about Abraham Lincoln? There was never a lull in the conversation with Mom, but she did talk at great length about Lincoln. Dakota also likes Abraham Lincoln, too. A few years ago, Mom sent me a charcoal drawing of Abraham Lincoln that my Grandpa did. She sent it because Dakota told "Gran" all about our 16th President on the telephone.

Mom meant the picture to go in my office but Dakota and I assumed it was for her, and I hung it in Dakota's room. When Mom came to visit and saw it there, she laughed. One day, maybe Dakota will be President. I told Mom about that idea and she was all for it.

"Dakota is very capable, I think she'd be a great president, if that's what she decides she wants to be. But just let Dakota enjoy being Dakota. That's what's really important."

The Inside Joke

2009-08-19T23:20:00.001-05:00

How that carp:

A) got published in the Tresher
B) was actually made worse with the butchered lettering job

Remains a mystery to me.

So I used to say that the best jokes were inside jokes. Actually what
I said was that the highest form of humor is when the person listen
does not realize that you've made a joke and you give no indication
that you have and no one laughts except you... on the inside.

At some point Louren convinced me that it was just me being rude and
mean to people to their face. So I stopped saying it. But what I mean
was that inside jokes are funniest.

Looking at the pained scheme joke below and the really creepy Eric
Hewett fanboy gallery to the left, maybe not.

--
Sent from my mobile device

The Devil's Scheme (a short story about COMP 210)

2009-08-18T06:41:00.005-05:00

I took COMP 210 with Eric Hewett. It was so much more than a course
about computer science. It inspired cartoons and songs and epic poems.
That was just from me. The reason this class was such a revelation:
Dr. Matthias Felleisen. Here now is a story about him

Matthias was enjoying the cdr of his afternoon when the DEVnull appeared!

"Matthias! I am the destructor of your soul. Bwahaha!!!!

But there is an order of operations, as a function of a bet I lost
with the lamda of God, I must grant one wish. Don't feel too happy,
people always try to use this wish to save their soul but their cons
are always are null and I catch them."

Mathias wished for one more wish which the DEVnull must grant.

"You fool!" The DEVnull laughed. "Your wish for a wish that is eq? This wish."

"True" replied Matthias.

"People have asked for zillons of wishes. I thunks you were smarter
than that!" The DEVnull chortled.

Despite what the DEVnull thought, Matthias did have engines nested
inside his engines.

"Your wish is granted", bellowed the DEVnull, "I am returning to you
one more wish which I must grant. Ready?"

The DEVnull smiled for he could allow Matthias to continue to iterate
with wishing for one more wish and spending his life in this process
rather than living it. To the DEVnull, time is meaningless but Matthias is a mere
mortal. "At the end of his life," so thought the DEVnull, "his wishes
will run out and upon his dying breath, his soul will be mine after a lifetime of trying to wish away the DEVnull, how delicious!"

Matthias wished for his previous wish.

The DEVnull then made an amazing expression. That expression, although
robustly descriptive, was unstable and for a time equaling then to infinity, the DEVnull
returns the same wish for the wish that must be granted by the
DEVnull. Next.

"How did you know to do that, Matthias?" asked Corky the questioner.

"I went to Church. Don't tell my students."

--
Sent from my mobile device

WHAT IF .... Huey Lewis had written Blues Traveller "Four"

2009-08-14T03:20:00.009-05:00

I am Oh-AH-Tu the Omniscient Observer of Alternate Musical Realities, a totally original but satirical character not at all infringing on the copyright of Marvel comics (see Campbell v. Acuff-Rose Music, 510 U.S. 569 (1994).), and I am here to explore if Huey Lewis and the News had focused more on the prodigious blues harp skill of their front man. What would have been the result?

Look into my spooky glowing eyes as I wave my left hand behind me making life difficult for a cartoonist un-used to rendering foreshortening on MS Paint. I think we will need some sound effects to travel the 5th dimension.

Anyone? Anyone?

Oh, fine........

Deedlediddlydoo! Deedlediddlydoo! Deedlediddlydoo! WAHWahhwahhwah waaaaaaa....

For Starters, John Popper would have been the owner of a fanboy 'zine shop and died a virgin. Oh-AH-Tu sheds a rare tear for loser fanboys everywhere.

Okay... but what about "Fore"? It would have been called "Foure" and these would have been the tracks:

"Jacob's Ladder"
"Run-Around"
"Whole Lotta Lovin'"
"Stuck with You"
"Fallible"
"Freedom"
"Doing all the Crash and Burn for My Baby"
"Hip to Be Square"
"Hook"
"Jacob's Ladder (Reprise)"

It would have been a killer success that would have staved off the rise of the Seattle Flannel grunge scene in favor of a "white oxford shirt with top collar button opened, narrow tie losened, and Rayban Aviators" wearin middle-class Blues scene. Kurt Cobain would be alive today as a judge on "American Idol" but Eddie Veder would have been beaten to death by an angry mob of A&R people from the record label.

Eric Hewett and David Miller would have had a one hit wonder "Uncouth Knuth"

Is this world better or worse? I do not judge, I merely Observe.

Pink Panther

2009-08-13T09:03:00.003-05:00

Dead ant. Dead ant

Jason also gets itchy ant bite blisters that freak him out. Like me he
neither knows nor cares about the difference between fire ants and
non-fire ants.

But Dakota does. As Jason stood on a bar stool shreiking "ant! Ant!".
I stomped on it with an exagerated repeated lift of the foot above my
waist (no longer easy with the achilles and back) growling "death!
Death!" Like a democrat of your conservative grandma's worst fears.

Dakota, sounding like a Budhist Monk, chastened me.

"Dad... How do you think the ant feels?"

"It feels nothing except the embrace of obvilvion"

"How do you think it felt right before you stomped?"

"I hope it felt remorse for having frightened my son, but I imagine
all that it felt was a shadow and the rush of air"

"But it never got to visit London, England, or to see the Eiffel Tower
in Paris!"

--
Sent from my mobile device

Post-Script about Eric Hewett: Once I saw a production of Titus Andronicus where Eric Hewett had a small role. In this under-appreciated Shakespearean revenge fantasy, Titus mourns the death of an innocent insect before later feeding two murdering sons to their sinister mother. Eric was pretty good.

Word to your father

2009-08-07T18:14:00.001-05:00

Well, it finally happened. Dakota asked me a question that stumped me
so bad that I told her to look it up.

"Daddy, define the word 'word.'"

Amazingly, I had predicted this eventuality last weekend and bought
her a childrens dictionary.

In case you are wondering: Word is a synonym for "vow"

--
Sent from my mobile device

Jokes are like alchemy

2009-08-05T06:20:00.006-05:00

I happily let Jason tell me cookie jokes for an hour last night as he tried to settle down his mind and go to sleep. Although dakota was able to tell ne funny joke before she could talk, its more of a struggle for the boy, who is more about physical comedy. But he had good material with cookies, and a good understanding of his audience. I admit most of the jokes are like:

"Why cookie oval? Cookie is oval and triangle and spinkles and I eat it!"

Which is what makes the few funny jokes seem so amazing.

Eric Hewett once wrote a really good paper for McEvilley comparing Yves Klein to the alchemists of yore, but to me a four year old actually putting together the elements of a funny joke (good delivery, timing, engaging material, unexpected punchline) is as surprising as transmuting lead into gold.

Wow that's quite a build up for this joke. It better not be like my last words joke (only funny because my grieving grandchild says the punchline). In any case, its bound to be a disappointment, aint it? It reminds me of Hendrix playing the national anthem at Woodstock. People rave and rave and rave about how original and surprising and incredible it was. In fact, the people who do that are all on the documentary because they were there. But the thing to remember is that (a) it was the last day of Woodstock so even if they weren't high, they were physically tired and thus emotionally worn out (b) people
act like only awesome acts got booked for woodstock. Untrue. Hendrix followed Sha-Na-na. I mean... carp! Unless Hendrix decided to forego his guitar and also sing some doowop, he was going to be a hit that morning. But, I digress....

In fact there were three jokes that Jason told. Wouldn't it be just like me if in the middle of my sentence
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Ok, just kidding. In fact, I almost forget one of the jokes because I just woke up and this blog entry is part of hitting the snooze bar and doing my back stretches from the physical therapist and TELL THE DAMN
JOKE ALWEADY!!!!

"Why cookie go up ladder of fire fighter?"
I dunno, Jason, why?
"He craaa-zy!"

"What mean boss do that for; put cookie dough oven?"
I don't know Jason, why did he do that?
"Cookies fired! Ahhhhhh, Ha ha ha ha ha"

"Do you eat cookies Daddy?"
I dunno, Jason.
"Da-dee! You eat em!"
--
Sent from my mobile device

Wow.... this new layout looks terrible

2009-08-01T14:17:00.002-05:00

In theory it should be clean and good. It isn't

I've futzed with this for three hours. Time to do something else.

In the mean time, feast your eyes on Eric Hewett. See Eric's facebook page for an explanation as to why he's turned into the Jonas brother and I a jelly-kneed tween.

Homemade Pizza

2009-07-30T19:34:00.002-05:00

O Mozerella,
How much will you get melty,
before you get brown?

--
Sent from my mobile device

The Daily Survivor -- a great way to lose money

2009-07-29T01:39:00.001-05:00

So an idea which I had while trying to get to sleep would be to start a daily newspaper, because I hear that there is big money in that industry. BIG MONEY TO BE LOST, THAT IS!

Anyhow the paper would be called "The Daily Survivor" and it would have headlines like "Mohamed Ali... still the Greatest" (which was actually a Houston Chronical front page headline some years back" and "Man in Critical Condition lives through the night" and "993 of 1000 occupants of burning building survive." Get the picture? It would be a daily reporting of the news with the angle that people either survived, weren't killed, are still alive, or aren't dead yet. The incidents where newspapers report death would be covered by mentioned at first who was alive prior to the incident and then all the people who survived. The fact that someone died would never be reported.

It could be one of the most annoying newspapers ever.

Curiouser and curiouser

2009-07-27T22:47:00.002-05:00

Its fascinating to read "Alice in Wonderland" to Dakota. Dakota
identifies with Alice to a far greater extent than I ever did. Where I
just got irratated by her spouting nonsense, Dakota feels sympathy for
Alice's efforts to make sense of the insane and dishonest world of
grown ups and animals.
Although I read both "wonderland" and "looking glass" many times
growing up (and was even in a 5th grade production of looking glass,
one of a series of really lousy parts in the school play that resulted
from being sick one day just one day and the good part was taken away
from me. not that I'm still bitter about it but I should have been
the white knight. I mean white knight... Hello? I am so the white
knight. I mean in life, not just in that play) but never did I find
the material so howling funny as I do now.

--
Sent from my mobile device

Vignettes of suburban life for single Dad

2009-07-26T15:00:00.002-05:00

These were going to be FB status updates, but they work better as a series.
--------------------------------------------
Juice boxes are on the same aisle as candy. Bad HEB; evil store layout.
--------
The kids make tons of noise at the checkout, they are fighting to help
daddy more. Neither are providing any help (with respect to net
effect) but the sentiment is touching.
--------
You know how people will have a bumper sticker that says "I break for
baby ducks?" Well a moma duck and three baby ducks were crossing
Morton Road and I breaked and honked like a mad man. The oncoming SUV
driver looked bewildered and I gesticulated wildly at the baby ducks.
Then the lady driving the Sequoia saw it too and looked relieved that
she didn't make roadkill.
Anyhow, I was thinking about the bumper sticker and, well, so what?
What kind of sick bastard WOULDN'T stop?
--------
Dakota: Did you notice that no ants bother the cats?
Dad: I suppose
Dakota: Well, that could be the answer to our ant infestation...
Cats. You should let Sophia have kittens.
Dad: Impossible. She's been fixed
Dakota: Can't we un-fix her.
Dad: Afraid not, Princess
Dakota: I hate that about life. Sometimes, things cannot be undone.
--------
Jason is eating a lunchable. He seperates all the crackers and all the
cheese slices and all the ham slices. He looks pleased. Then
concerned. Finally he sighs in true anguish.
Slapping his forehead, he declares, "Too many choices! Ah jeesh."
--
Sent from my mobile device

The Bad Guy in Dakota's Comic Universe

2009-07-25T16:01:00.001-05:00

I've talked about super personnel person before. See link (here). I am
watching Dakota play with Jason's action figures. Her bad guy is an
unstable boss who randomly hires and fires people for no discernable
reason.

This has hilarious effect for Star Wars action figures carefully
positioned for an epic battle. Suddenly storm troopers are bus boys
and Lando is a Maitre D. Then Lando is promoted to Darth, after Darth
Vader is fired. Then Lando is fired and Darth is re-hired, but as a
singing waiter.

In observing the insane but basically mean-spirited nature of unstable
boss, I think "Yes, this is the correct bad guy for super personnel
person"

--
Sent from my mobile device

An Ode To Sriracha Chili Sauce

2009-07-23T12:04:00.005-05:00

My soup was bland
My hot dog blah
You are not just for Pho or shumai anymore

Thicker than sauce
Smoother to a puree
Technically a "red pepper coulis"

The tounges of five lands
Emblazoned on the bottle side
Surely these are five tounges on fire

Heat but not light
Sweet but not "TGIF rib sauce"
More like a symphony of flavors; specifically that symphony where Metalica thought to play with an orchestra... except good.

Look! I wrote my name on the plate

Talking to my tweet

2009-07-22T19:10:00.002-05:00

Its not like I'm not banal on facebook on here on the 'ol .75, but twitter is exclusively banality. Its all banalities all the time.

And now a haiku
You know what I want to do?
No. Neither do I.
--
Sent from my mobile device

The F-22

2009-07-22T09:16:00.001-05:00

Dude, we still have lots of them.

--
Sent from my mobile device

Best of the trippy story games

2009-07-18T06:58:00.003-05:00

Here's the link. Let's see if I can get the plug-in to work.

Nope. I can't

Oh well.... troubleshooting that unsuccessfully slaked my thirst to write about the game and compare it to others. The only commentary left is: Bunnies blowing up deer with bombs are funny.

Racism is the GOP's turd in the punchbowl (Sen. Tom Coburn at the Sotomayor hearings)

2009-07-15T20:07:00.005-05:00

Why I am not a pundit

I predicted that some stupid things would be said at the hearings that would shed no light on the nominee, just Senators drawing attention to themselves. Indeed they have

OK read this: http://www.google.com/hostednews/ap/article/ALeqM5i50DeDW5LZUDAChBxX2Oqt4co18wD99F111G0

I recognize that we are supposed to be post-racial America and that its very trendy to say "I have given out enough apologies, leave me alone with my racial prejudices."

Except that its baloney.

The academic lecture part of my blog post

I should pause here with a bit of semiotics theory. Semiotics is a fancy word for the idea that bleeps blurps and waggles = all you really have to make yourself understandable. The theoretical idea is the context of the noises you make can signal what you are really thinking, but the noises themselves that are not intrinsically one way or another. Which means the same noises can communicate a totally different set of thoughts; Or in isolation they can have no meaning at all.

The heart-warming anecdote

I got into a big fight with a close law school friend of mine over the use of a date on a t-shirt to convey a racist message (it was Toyota Autoworkers in the US and the date was Pearl Harbor day). His point, correct but irrelevant, was that "those numbers aren't racist." Context is racist and the racism is subjective, as is all communication. So this is the take-away on semiotic theory: occasionally a person does or says something that because of where, when, how, or to whom it was said, gives a very specific message about what that person thinks or feels. This message is stronger if it completes a picture of what you already believe. The message becomes a fact. "Fact: Person X said this. That is a fact. And if its a fact, I believe it."

Back to my main point (isn't this post awesome with section subtitles?)

I'll skip the flip-side of this idea (cognitive dissonance) and get right to my point:

Sen. Coborn managed to confirm what I suspected about GOP opposition to Sotomayor in one single ethnic joke. Republicans (not just elected ones) who aren't offended by this don't and won't see it. They will point to the broader context of how the famous Ricky Riccardo catch-phrase is used all the time by all sorts of people for all sorts of reasons, mostly funny, and that its a form of liberal thought-police censorship. I wrote this paragraph yesterday, and now it has happened. Here comes the link... POOF!

Let me just say this:

Congressional hearings are not the saloon. Nor is it "gotcha" politics to point out that doing a Ricky Ricardo imitation while questioning Sotomayor in a public hearing evidences an underlying personal and/or racial animosity. The statements, questions, and asides made for a Supreme Court Confirmation hearing are not merely a coincidence. Its not "only a joke." And, oh yeah... nothing is off the record, every word that is bolivated from these farcical hearings are preserved for all posterity. Each Senator has a staff of people to prevent extemporaneous statements in favor of sound bites to tossed out to the mosaic of PACs that either elected the Senators on the committee or raised money specifically for or against the nominee. For however our democracy ought to be, the fact is that thousands of votes and millions of contribution dollars are at stake when it comes to theatres of political and rhetorical conflict (like confirmation hearings) between the two parties. In this context, for Coburn to overcome those barriers and lay a turd in the punch bowl like that is amazing.

Just to infuriate people and confuse the issue, I will totally make something up as a way to make my point. Because "Fact: Person X imagined this. That is a fact. I am person X. That's not a fact so much as an assignment of a fact to a variable, but if its a fact, I believe it. "

I imagine, you decide

When they nominate me to be on the Supreme Court, and some GOP Senator gets aggravated by his ignorance of the law and by my "I'm talking to you like a 4th grader" tone, and tires of my explaining the difference between holding and dicta as a way of not answering his question about a real "gotcha" quote of mine and blurts out:

"Confucius say, those who quote me are fools."

And the gallery laughs at the quip as if he was Noel Coward. I will have too much dignity to do anything but let it slide.

Things I have learned by being a parent (canonical rant)

2009-07-09T00:33:00.004-05:00

My children are both asleep. I often watch them sleep now. My old friend, insomia has returned after many years. Of course, now that I am older I understand that back pain and drinking a pot of coffee have something to do with it. A bigger contributor maybe is that the price for having a certain flexibility about who I can be turns into a cavernous echo when I am alone and don't have to be anyone but me. But self-pity and self-loathing are merely cleansing the palette of a canonical rant, like a salty fish followed by sorbet. Here now is the plat principle:

As my children sleep, I reflect on Jason's ability to do so without a diaper. Its an important milestone because the end of diapers changes the parent routine. I no longer need to carry a support bag.

It is also the end of the relevance of certain advice books, and that is the topic of this rant. Middle class people tend to buy (and to urge other people to buy) particular parenting advice books. Some of these competing books have caused cultural wars of Aesthetics. One thing that I have learned by being a parent, is that people do not read those books because they want to be instructed. People find books that match the way they already treat their kids and their life. Its a post-hoc rationalization of why their way is right.

Therefore, for these books to sell very well, they must be vague and general. So cliches are important. My least favorite of these cliches is "children are our future" That's ridiculous.

I started writing this last night as I was trying to cure my insomnia. It worked

Independance Day Advice

2009-07-04T10:48:00.003-05:00

The 4th of July is the greatest holiday ever because it celebrates the the greatest country ever: USA! USA! USA!

Here are my tips for a safe enjoyable holiday.

1. Don't hold lit fireworks in your hand. No its not funny.
2. Remember when Kurt Cobain said "I want to eat your cancer when it turns black" he was talking about you and your bad grilling technique. Use propane with lava rocks. Propane is God's gas, just ask Hank Hill. If you are using charcoal, you will need to put aluminum foil down to keep the soot off your meat. (E Hewett, this is what I forgot to do at your place). Get grill very hot first. If you have your hand 6 inches away from grill and it gets uncomfortable afte a very short time, you are ready to go. Put steak diagonally across grill for 2 minutes, use spatula to rotate 90 degrees clockwise (counter clockwise if you are a left), wait 2 minutes. Flip. Don't touch that steak until its ready. It will be ready in 2-8 minutes depending on how well you want it cooked. BTW, the steak continues to cook after you've pulled it off the grill, so no its not undercooked. By the time you get it to the table any have added your ironic helping of salad on the side, it will be perfect. Also, here is what I have decided about marinates - good for chicken and fish, bad for steak. Go with a dry rub or cracked pepper and salt. My advice for steak also applies for burgers, except that you may want to have and aluminum sheet even for propane and flip it onto the aluminum sheet and leave it be for the longer end of the spectrum (i.e. don't eat rare burgers) but not for other beef cuts like ribs or brisket (which requires a smoker which is a different piece of equipment entirely). Chicken, fish, sausages, and vegetables are all more complicated and won't be covered by this post.
3. Wear sunscreen.

Bad decision on Vicodin

2009-07-01T06:24:00.001-05:00

Liver damage? Screw you guys, I got whiplash and my back hurts.

I guess in the worst case, I can always take a big glass of whiskey at
night instead of hydrocodone. Whiskey doesn't damage your liver,
right?

--
Sent from my mobile device

You've heard this one before

2009-06-30T14:49:00.001-05:00

Per my "25 Books" post on Facebook about "Jokes Riddles, Funny
Stories" here is an example of an adapted joke:

When people recover from being unconcious for days, it should be
called a "comma" instead.

--
Sent from my mobile device

Buzz Aldrin Raps

2009-06-28T00:12:00.003-05:00

Snoop Doggy Dog did a really good job in not making Buzz Aldrin sound stupid or not like Buzz Aldrin. Compare this to when the Chicago Bears did "The Super Bowl Shuffle" and one understands how far producing rap videos featuring non-rappers rapping has progressed. I supposed the underlying measure of the man also matters: Buzz Aldrin is one of the great heros of mankind, with a Doctorate from MIT (after a distinguished career as a jet fighter), while Jim McMahon is a lovable headband-wearing doofus. Jim McMahon apparently once got pulled over for drunk driving and said "I'm too drunk, you got me". Apparently when Buzz Aldrin was 72, he punched out a man who accused him of faking the moon landing. With that build-up, here it is:

Buzz Aldrin's Rocket Experience from Buzz Aldrin

Annie are you OK?

2009-06-26T07:27:00.004-05:00

I can't say that I was ever really a fan of the music, I didn't own "Thriller" or "Off the wall" and don't. In fact, I don't own anything later than the Jackson 5 Christmas album. That was Louren's doing, but I admit that its a good album. I also admit that in general, he was a very talented dancer and had a good sense of pop hooks. And over the years, he did manage to turn out a decent song or two. For example, I was always partial to "Scream" the collaboration that he did with his sister, Janet.

Despite the occasional good song, his fame and popularity will always be something of a puzzle to me. Like many things in mass culture that get very popular, the cognitive dissonance between my perception of quality (or there lack of) and the ostensible popularity will always make me suspicious of some sort of put-on.

The whole spectacle of his life and death would have passed without comment from me until I saw that he had a patent on this crazy lean from "Smooth Criminal?" Its a special shoe!

And its a well drafted patent, not like the all-time most ridiculous patent ever for a comb-over. Clearly, this is a person who understands something about entertainment that I don't. I am awestruck by Micheal Jackson for the first time in my life.

In any case, I am hopeful that they will discover that he really was killed by a freak heart attack and not something that will leave lazy pundits to say "he was killed by fame" because he was not. In this bold new world where everyone rips off the Louds and Pizza boys with guitars believe they are musicians, its important to recognize that fame can be a talent beyond the talent that made you famous. For here was a man who lived for fame, worked very hard at it his whole life, and despite many adversities in other parts of his life, was very good a being famous.

Lorem ipsum

2009-06-25T10:27:00.002-05:00

Turns out its really latin. See more here.

"Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipisicing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua. Ut enim ad minim veniam, quis nostrud exercitation ullamco laboris nisi ut aliquip ex ea commodo consequat. Duis aute irure dolor in reprehenderit in voluptate velit esse cillum dolore eu fugiat nulla pariatur. Excepteur sint occaecat cupidatat non proident, sunt in culpa qui officia deserunt mollit anim id est laborum."

Section 1.10.32 of "de Finibus Bonorum et Malorum", written by Cicero in 45 BC
"Sed ut perspiciatis unde omnis iste natus error sit voluptatem accusantium doloremque laudantium, totam rem aperiam, eaque ipsa quae ab illo inventore veritatis et quasi architecto beatae vitae dicta sunt explicabo. Nemo enim ipsam voluptatem quia voluptas sit aspernatur aut odit aut fugit, sed quia consequuntur magni dolores eos qui ratione voluptatem sequi nesciunt. Neque porro quisquam est, qui dolorem ipsum quia dolor sit amet, consectetur, adipisci velit, sed quia non numquam eius modi tempora incidunt ut labore et dolore magnam aliquam quaerat voluptatem. Ut enim ad minima veniam, quis nostrum exercitationem ullam corporis suscipit laboriosam, nisi ut aliquid ex ea commodi consequatur? Quis autem vel eum iure reprehenderit qui in ea voluptate velit esse quam nihil molestiae consequatur, vel illum qui dolorem eum fugiat quo voluptas nulla pariatur?"

Section 1.10.33 of "de Finibus Bonorum et Malorum", written by Cicero in 45 BC
"At vero eos et accusamus et iusto odio dignissimos ducimus qui blanditiis praesentium voluptatum deleniti atque corrupti quos dolores et quas molestias excepturi sint occaecati cupiditate non provident, similique sunt in culpa qui officia deserunt mollitia animi, id est laborum et dolorum fuga. Et harum quidem rerum facilis est et expedita distinctio. Nam libero tempore, cum soluta nobis est eligendi optio cumque nihil impedit quo minus id quod maxime placeat facere possimus, omnis voluptas assumenda est, omnis dolor repellendus. Temporibus autem quibusdam et aut officiis debitis aut rerum necessitatibus saepe eveniet ut et voluptates repudiandae sint et molestiae non recusandae. Itaque earum rerum hic tenetur a sapiente delectus, ut aut reiciendis voluptatibus maiores alias consequatur aut perferendis doloribus asperiores repellat."

Canonical rant: kid food

2009-06-20T13:22:00.006-05:00

I am at the Pantera house of soft guitar, salad, and overblown rolls.
Its only because Dakota likes the chicken noodle soup served in a
"bread bowl" that we are here. The other customers are glaring at me
because Jason is playing missile command with imaginary nukes falling
over the table. He is using the table number holder as the missile and
making not only launch noises but "incoming target acquired... Ready.
FIRE!!!!!!!"

Who said "F*** 'em if they can't take a joke"?

Anyway, what Who said. Besides the aggravating factor is probably that
to the other patrons, I seem disengaged with my kids' antics, as I
gamely tap away at my Blackberry. Foolish suburbanites, I am merely
typing the prologue to a Canonical Rant (tm).

[Mental note, register trademark]

Canonical Rant: Kid food.
Our paternalistic society lectures parents and everyone else about how
we are unhealthy in our eating choices, starting from childhood. The
blame is placed on mixed messages from society. True, but the gun is
pointed at the wrong hypocrisy. The problems are the odious paring of
toy food and toy-shaped kids food.

What the hell is wrong with people? We tell kids:

"Don't eat your toys" and give them impossibly tasty looking plastic
hamburgers, Play doh sushi makers, wood block carrots.

Then we say;

"Don't play with your food" and give them chicken nuggets shaped like
rocket ships and dinosaurs. By the way the word "food" for kids food
ought to be used loosely. There is little substantive difference
between the nutritional contents of a nugget and of the box it comes
in.

Nor do I accept the whole "make your kids fun easy organic food"
notion. This is America, damnit. its the land of convenient service.
Kids food should look like food and taste good and be healthy and be
cheap. Its a market failure when middle class people "opt out of
consumerism". Whatever the hell that means. Yeah, all those organic
food making appliances and supplies, not to mention your fetish farmers market food.
Way to opt out, comrade.

There is are several finishes to this canonical rant. I'll do all the variants.

Variant 1: regulate
There outta be a law.
The only really good way to change the balance of power between
relatively weak and diffuse consumer and the relatively large number
of offending food producers is to make kids food required on all
menus and to prohibit terrible kids food.

My conservative libertarian friends recoil in horror "you'll drive
restaurants out of business" and "its not free market. " There are
times I can see your point and not disrespect it, but in general this
isn't one of those times. Its hardly axiomatic that free markets
require caveat emptor and that society should accept the cost of
vendors selling Styrofoam sandwiches sprinkled in glass shards.

more importantly the claims that its overly paternalistic on consumers
is nonsense. Consumers don't want Styrofoam sandwiches but if vendors
refuse to stop making them, they will be forced to buy them. If you
don't believe that, then how else can you explain that I bought a
Yaris? Anyhow its the conservatives who are being paternalistic to
capitalists. Capitalists are ingenious. Tell them: make money selling
food but the rule is no Styrofoam sandwiches and they will figure it
out.

Get to work, Congress. Ban food that looks like toys and toys that
look like food.

Variant 2: litigate

Replace para 1 of the above with:
Everyone ought to sue everyone.

Replace the last paragraph with:
Civil litigation is a great tool of reform, especially against a
recalcitrant defendant with lobbying power. We owe the plaintiff's
bar a great debt for protecting our democratic ideals. I refer you to
Federalist Paper No. 51. Yes, its about a system of checks and
balances in the offices of government, but its also about the nature
of our courts to make power more diffuse. The diffusion of power
amongst all members of society is a disruptive but critical aspect of
society.

Variant 3: heartwarming anecdote
(This is an add-on to variant 1)

When I was in elementary school and my parents marriage was nearly done
for, my mom purchased a glass top coffee table for the living room.
The living room itself was an area ironically named in the waning days
of the marriage. In the 70's my parents entertained guests there and I
think when Eugene was left at home by himself he'd get into "risky
business" type mischief there; maybe that's just hero worship on my
part.

Anyhow, my mom decided that the thing to put on the monstrosity was a
glass candy dish and these horrendous hard candies. A glass bowl on a
glass surface + elementary school kids. Insanity, but somehow I didn't
break it. Instead, after a layer of dust got on the candy, I slid it
into the sun and it got gooey. Then I threw the candy out

"William, where did the display candy go?"

"Display candy, display for who?"

"Whom"

"Anyhow it got sticky... Gross"

"Oh... Good. Did you put your marbles in the bowl?!?"

"Yes... Don't they look tasty?"

"They do, actually"

Inside I was thinking about the fact that glass candy was hysterically
immoral and laughing.

It was a tough time for us (mom and I) back then but in retrospect, I
have a lot more sympathy for the idea that as her life became a
shambles, and the things she built up went down in flames, why not have
a piece of gleaming crystal interior decor on top of an ostentatious
and impractical furnishing? It could hardly be the worst thing that
one could do in response! Except if toy food was illegal. Then they
would have arrested me. I wonder if I would have been tried as an
adult.

Probably. Reagan was tough on crime.

--
Sent from Gmail for mobile | mobile.google.com

The Prince Charles Style

2009-06-19T06:19:00.005-05:00

Here's the url: http://www.nytimes.com/2009/06/19/world/europe/19london.html

So I don't particularly like Prince Charles. He wrote a book in 94 saying how sad and miserable he was. Dude, you are the friggin' Prince of Wales, suck it up.

And I somewhat like contemporary architecture, although I like the newer stuff, which is challenging, and I believe will ultimate change, the sort of excess that lead to the hot mirror Trav describes here (I'm brushing my teeth right now, I'll add the link later [added]). But thinking about the Archis at Rice, and as much as I liked some of them personally (I am talking about you, Mike Woods.) Archis can be a bit muck. Prince Charles is right: England is not LA or Berlin. England should look like England. And... Archis, get over yourselves. None of you are Roarke (or whatever anti-Roarke is now en vouge for Archis) especially not you Frank Gheary. And aesthics are not ethics, no matter how often they get confused in US politics.

My viewpoint on this follows the same thinking about the new Yankee Stadium (and more or less every baseball stadium since Camden yards) which architecture and design critics tend to decry for not being cool enough.

Finally, I am not an English Consttitutional Law Proffesor, but if Prince Charles can't shoot his mouth off and say "this new building plan looks like a dung heap" then something is wrong.

If I could be a superhero

2009-06-18T07:39:00.001-05:00

I would never be Superman.
I would be Dr. Strange.

Or Harvey Birdman (of course)

--
Sent from Gmail for mobile | mobile.google.com

Leatherfoot's facebook status

2009-06-15T23:50:00.005-05:00

was about Project SERENE. Here's a link.

I was thinking today at lunch about how there should be a US Department of Mnemonic Development. It would be an offshoot of OSHA. Effectively, US Mnemonic Developers (US MDs) would regulate industry acroymns, and monitor the acroynmns (including the pronouncation thereof) developed by some companies whose acroynmn development has a pervasive effect on an industry as a whole. The enabling act for USDMD would arise from the "regulate interstate commerce" power. See U.S. Const. Art. I, sec. 8, cl. 2

Anyhow, the main way which the USDMD would regulate would not be through CFRs. Instead, the department would publish a series of advisory opinions, and then make information requests or conduct audits. The audits might result in the issuance of citations for eronneously named acronymns (ENAs) such that the industry analysts could talk about how, for example: ACME Corp received over 200 ENAs at the last US Department of Mnemonic Development Mnemonic Audit. But their main competitor, Salient Company, received none. When asked how he felt about the results of the US Department of Mnemonic Development Mnemonic Audit, the CEO of Salient replied, "Ecstatic"

That was a lot of work for a sad pun.

Do not buy sunglasses for a 4 year old

2009-06-12T00:01:00.005-05:00

At least not sunglasses that you want to keep. You know those paper things that the eye doctor gives you after you've had the drops? Get those.

Other vacation wisdom:

There is no such thing as "no-rub" sunscreen, nor waterproof sunscreen.
After you apply sunscreen to the kids, get yourself.
Don't overplan when and where on mealtime. Don't underplan potty availability.
Texans are real friendly.
Texans like funny jokes.
A novelty light saber makes a great flashlight. It's perfect for not bumping into the hotel desk chair on the way to the bathroom ...

... and for checking on the kids and their bears. I had some sort of attrocious play on words here with "visions of sugar plums dancing in their heads" and "visions of like...um... space bad guys and lasers and...um" its late and I'm on vacation, so let's just say that the kids are getting high quality "worn out from jumping on the hotel bed" sleep. G'night.

I like Regina Spektor

2009-06-04T19:27:00.004-05:00

Laughing With

Which is strange because, for example I freakin' hate Dave Matthews.

Dave Matthews Band - The Space Between

And though I find "ha-ha-ha-ha-heart" intruiging (not to mention betta betta betta betta betta)

Fidelity

I'm annoyed by Nelly Furtado. It's true -woo woo woo. Although this remix that simultaneously speeds her up and slows her down is pretty cool....

You know, I used to really like to watch music videos. When did that stop?
Look... DEVO!
We Are Electric

Oh, wait. I remember now why I gave up on music videos:

Yikes.

Winona Ryder and Christian Slater are doing a sequel to Heathers

2009-06-02T22:29:00.001-05:00

Seems like such a bad idea, so why does it seem so awesome?

--
Sent from Gmail for mobile | mobile.google.com

Words of advice for young people

2009-06-01T04:31:00.006-05:00

I had a different post here that I wrote last night as I was falling asleep. I didn't like it. So here's the new one.

"A journey of a thousand steps, starts with a thousand steps. Oh,then its pretty much over"

I was watching TV yesterday. The worlds largest man (1,032 lbs.) was the subject of a documentary about how they removed over 700 lbs from his body; mostly by surgery. He was from Houston. As was the worlds largest woman; over 900 lbs. And the world's heaviest teen, he wasn't all that heavy, but was he ever miserable! And the largest concentration of super morbidly obese people (over 560 lbs.)
I turned off the TV and took the kids to the pool and swam laps during adult swim.
Truthfully, I got much more exercise treading water next to Jason's floatie. By "treading water" I mean standing on my tiptoes in the pool, which with the Achilles is a really good exercise, just the right balance of support and resistance. I also packed my sneakers for work today, but I will likely work through lunch; as usual. Also the kids and I got ice cream from the ice cream man. And we had cookies for a dinner appetizer.

This is my idea of living large. I am like Wonko the sane, but more plain. I don't need a secret volcano lair, nor an army of robots; I can still be a supervillian, if someone wants to battle me in googles, armed with pillows. I can boil a mean pot of water. I can microwave too. My kids know how to Tivo, and they understand what I mean by "this is a tube of plenty." In my mind's eye, I see that my ear's nose is the liver of my soul, which was always middle-aged. And now I am too.
So now... this is it! This is my movie. And though I've seen this movie, I like it. I might channel surf a bit, but I'll keep flipping back.

Puff piece journalism

2009-05-30T06:35:00.003-05:00

This was in the wapo: http://twp.com/news.jsp?key=393846&rc=en

"Prince Harry gets play time on 2nd day of NYC trip"
By VERENA
Updated: Saturday, May 30, 2009
NEW YORK -- Prince Harry has been all business on his first official trip to the United States, but he'll have an opportunity for fun before wrapping up his two-day visit to New York.On Saturday afternoon, the 24-year-old prince is to participate in a polo match on Governors Island in New York Harbor, facing off against Argentine polo player and heartthrob Nacho Figueras.

--

When I face off against some hearthrobing Nachos, its not news

"Today William Li wore a hat, according to a source familiar with the situation. A spokesperson for Mr. Li explained that, in fact, he was just wearing a hockey sock on his head to amuse his kids. The Princess and Little Buddy could not be reached for comment as it was past their bedtime."

2009-05-29T07:48:00.001-05:00

Jason has discovered that "I have an idea!" Makes me drop everything and listen to him.

First impression of Bing

2009-05-28T12:30:00.000-05:00

Here are some screenshots: http://news.cnet.com/2300-10805_3-10000934.html?tag=mncol

a) A product named after the least popular "Friend"... inauspicious start.
b) Looks jumbled and confused
c) Looks designed to sell more ads, not to be more useful to end users.
d) I'd rather use "Dogpile" on printed out index cards than this search engine.
e) If I intentionally tried to create a bad internet experience, it would still be better than this pile of Zune. Oh wait, I already did that.

I am not running for Mayor

2009-05-27T06:07:00.001-05:00

Dear Anthony Weiner,

I'm not a candidate for mayor of New York City either. But you don't
see _me_ announcing my non-candidacy in a New York Times editorial,
despite the fact that you and I have exactly the same chance of
winning.

Sincerely Yours,

William Li
Houston, TX

--
Sent from Gmail for mobile | mobile.google.com

Fighting Pink Eye

2009-05-26T20:47:00.003-05:00

Jason recently recovered from pink eye. It was a memorable experience, I'm sure, in part because of the trip to the night-time children's clinic and Jason being such a good boy about taking eye drops. Or maybe it was the yellow eye boogers that would squirt out in a sudden sticky discharge when the medicine was applied.

Under Dakota's theory, the pharmacological effect is that the membrane of the uninfected cells are given multiple layers of resistance against the infected cell's attack. Note the realistic depiction of the canal of Schlemm. (pink)

If my father could see this, I am sure he would be extremely proud of this fantastic illustration of drug disposition and metabolism happening on a cellular level.

Joke musical keys

2009-05-25T09:48:00.001-05:00

B sharp
C flat
D Snyder

"That joke was dumb"

It wasn't dumb it was ..... TWISTED!

--
Sent from Gmail for mobile | mobile.google.com

2009-05-22T07:37:00.001-05:00

The benefit of blogging and driving is that it almost keeps me from giving that bastard the finger.

2009-05-21T05:57:00.001-05:00

My subconconscious is also a cat person.

The Slate discovers that people outside of California like sci-fi

2009-05-19T23:40:00.004-05:00

Here's the video:
Don Omar - The Chosen & Virtual Diva [ IDON : System Upgrade ]

Here's the article in Slate.
First of all, the older cyberpunk gets, the cornier it seems; like Will Robinson lost in space levels of corny, but I still have a nostaglic affection for being in middle school and having subscriptions both to "Isaac Asimov Science Fiction Monthly" and "Analog" There was a time when 2400 baud and people like Steve Lowell Inness were dreaming up touch-screens and B1ff really was kewl b/c Amigaz rox!!!1 c u l8r...

Second, I confess that I freakin' love reggaetón; ever since Houston Press put me onto Daddy Yankee. I drove a lot during law school, through constant construction on I-10 and 59. The radio in my Jeep developed a problem with the antenna such that I could only get NPR and Mega 101. During NPR pledge week, would switch over to Mega 101. I would thrill to recognize the six words of Spanish that I know in lyrics, and many of the song lyrics were partially in English anyway. It was a welcome break both from the law, and my Jeep breaking down on the side of the road, and obsessing over whether my missed class would trigger the ABA-mandated "5 absences and you must fail" policy. Listening to some rhymes that I don't understand was preferable to being crushed by the enormous pressures that I both put on myself and kept bottled up inside. Mostly, I just heard the moderate tempo bass carrying the man shouting over the loops which skip a beat every 3 1/2 beats. I can relate to that beat.

Here's an aside: when Dakota was little, she used to bang on stuff in the kitchen. Now that she's a big girl she does it less. I used encourage her to make percusive noises. When she would stop, I'd say "Dakota, bring that beat back. Bring. That. Beat. Back." Then I'd smile to myself at what a hip funny joke I made. Eugene heard me do that once and just sighed. I never did it again after that. Anyway, Dakota has moved on to liking actual music. Time marches on. On to the point of this blog entry...

Dear Slate,

It is not necessary to be a snotty dork from Silicon Valley in order to like science fiction. Crimony! Your ethnocentric condescension hangs off you like stinky cheese.

And by the way: Rock on, iDon!

Lunchtime thought

2009-05-19T12:20:00.001-05:00

Does lettuce have any nutritional value? I am skeptical.

--
Sent from Gmail for mobile | mobile.google.com

2009-05-18T22:39:00.001-05:00

Did you know Mr T spent the winter in Valley Forge with George Washington and crossed the Delaware with him?

Lunchtime thought

2009-05-18T12:57:00.000-05:00

Remember smart drinks?

I want to see "brain snacks" a line of edible non-food compounds
(think hot molded foam) that are laced with neurotoxins that
temporarily deaden the amaglyia (causes fear) or serrotin reuptake
(causes depression) or other "bad" feelings while temporaily
introducing co-enzymes that stimulate "good" neurochemical reactions.

Ideally it would have no calories maybe it wouldn't even be
metabolized fully (as its not food)

Wouldn't that be a great snack food?

I think it would be difficult to make it not an FDA controlled
subtance but (and this is my point) VITAMIN PILLS are like this
already.

--
Sent from Gmail for mobile | mobile.google.com

Putting the shun in Fashion

2009-05-17T15:39:00.001-05:00

Cushion
Pincushion
Parishioner

Anyhow. I heard that Tim Gunn is pushing to extend copyright to
clothing design as (I suppose) sculptural work. I think this is a bad
idea although I can see other protections against counterfeiting, like
maybe on the sewing patterns.

Still, clothes are difficult to copyright similiar to recipes. In that
vein, I feel as if anything that is possible must inevitably be
fashionable.

Therefore

If they ever allow it, I want to protect my design for a dinner
jacket, with a nehru collar and a zipper instead of button, made of
kevlar. Matching formal trousers are have cargo pockets and optional
thigh holster for a gun or a cell phone. And tevas with vinyl toughes
to make it look like patent leather

--
Sent from Gmail for mobile | mobile.google.com

2009-05-15T17:52:00.001-05:00

Birdstrike! We are ok. Did not need make emergency landing. But there is birdskid on my car.

File under: no duh

2009-05-14T22:15:00.001-05:00

<A href="http://mobile.nytimes.com/section?s=110">Mexican Data Say
Migration to U.S. Has Plummeted </a>

"The trend emerged clearly with the onset of the recession and,
demographers say, provides new evidence that illegal immigrants from
Mexico, by far the biggest source of unauthorized migration to the
United States, are drawn by jobs and respond to a sinking labor market
by staying away."

Wow, Really? You mean that Mexicans weren't breaking the law and
risking their lives to be in the United States because they love the
being subjected to contempt and scorn?

--
Sent from Gmail for mobile | mobile.google.com

2009-05-11T07:46:00.001-05:00

Commuter note: Arthur heard both "Writers Almanac" and "Engines of our Ingenuity" and OD'ed on pretense. Found dead in his Pruis, still gripping latte

N.C.S. ... I Lie to M3ntalist Bone

2009-05-08T23:18:00.002-05:00

You know what we need? Another procedural drama about a made-up
profession (or a ridiculous distortion of a real one) and so in that
spirit

"Gray Guy Solves Crime"

About a Dr. Gray Guy (pronounced Gee as in rhymes with fee) a PhD in
mysteriologisticsismisology. He is extremely misanthropic and has a
bemused staff of professionals to make up for him including:

Faith Angel: she's blond, an chracteracture of evangelical
chistianity and every episode for some reason she is in a state of
undress and or wearing fetish garb. She endlessly teases Dr Guy with
her brains and her celibacy

Justice Symbolic. He's the cool punk with a nose ring, a bad attidude
and is dr guys protoge but always disgagrees and is generally a bigger
jerk than dr guy

John Blowhard: the boss. He's got a crewcut and a pocket protector
and only cares about paperwork, not solving crime.

Jacque Bruin de Nez: the obsequious foil to Justice. Not as talented
but more obsequious. Oh... The drama! Its so dramatic.

This would have to be on FOX or FX. These are channels of gritty
realism, man.

Gritty

--
Sent from Gmail for mobile | mobile.google.com

And now a poem about self rehab of Achilles tendon

2009-05-08T12:18:00.001-05:00

My calves are aflame
Moo
But they both feel the same
Yay
And at least I'm not lame
That's right
Not like this poem
Boo.

--
Sent from Gmail for mobile | mobile.google.com

2009-05-06T07:47:00.001-05:00

You know what you can do instead of closing schools for pandemics? Videoconferencing.because videoconferencing is just like being there. Hahaha! Whew. Funny

2009-05-05T07:59:00.001-05:00

Jason says he likes "alphahat song" but "letters words tricky" and he prefers to sing it as a puppy with me singing as a chicken.

Gorillaz Flu Type

2009-05-05T00:03:00.001-05:00

Hello? Is anybody there? Hello?

M1A1. Thousand miles an hour
Gorillaz on the bass drum.
Gorillaz says he wants some. Some!

I say:

La la la la la la la la la la. Hey!

--
Sent from Gmail for mobile | mobile.google.com

Torture Memo (breaking the bee's knees)

2009-05-02T21:19:00.001-05:00

We had a swarm of bees a few weeks ago. I will post a photo in a bit.
Check this post again tomorrow.

Some of the bees came back and tried to go into my roof. At least one
made it and got into the interior of the house.

Kaneda and sophia hunted the bee to the window, where they laughed
(cattily) at the bee crashing into the glass and getting confused.

Then the cats tortured the bee to death.

How does a cat torture a bee? Punch the bee in the face. Roll out of
the way of the dive attack Bat the bee with a paw. When the bee is
down, stand on the legs (breaking its knee) and as the bee gets tired,
bite its wing. As the bee lay on its back buzzing in agony, the cats
batted the bee along the sill for some death throes knock-hockey
action. When the bee stopped moving, they just walked away... Bored.

--
Sent from Gmail for mobile | mobile.google.com

Chocolate Oatmeal Chocolate Chip Cookie Batches

2009-05-01T21:13:00.003-05:00

Batch 1
Actually these came out ok, but it tastes a bit undercooked in the middle. Not in a bad way, its the molasses.
Dakota's comment: Next time you should do something like the crust of a pie.
Jason's reaction: wildly enthusiastic
Adjustments: More flour and baking soda

Batch 2
Headed in the wrong direction here. These came out dry and crumbly. Also the almond extract flavor is now very noticable. Almond extract is a curse; a pox on my cookies. Fie! Fie! Yarrrrrrrr.
Dakota's comment: Next time use tortillas instead of oatmeal. Why? You might as well have used tortillas the way you are covering up the good chocolate flavors!
Jason's reaction: wildly enthusiastic
Adjustments: added cinamon, dark corn syrup, mayo, cook for 12 minutes rather than 10.

Batch 3
This is more like it, but they just don't taste as yummy as I want them to taste
Dakota's comment: Hey these tast great!
Jason's reaction: wildly enthusiastic
Adjustments: FOUND THE DAMN BROWN SUGAR! Also going back to 10 minutes and making the footprint of the cookie smaller on the tray

Batch 4
Like the American auto industry, I have burned through all my dough. This last batch was a little sticky but very very taste-tay!
Dakota's comment: Wow!
Jason's reaction: wildly enthusiastic

Lessons Learned: Cookie dough is like pancake batter, in the sense that if it tastes lousy in the bowl, it won't get magically better in the oven. Also, there are many subsitutes for different ingredients and mayo seems to work ok for eggs and oil but there is no good substitute for brown sugar. Almond extract? Its bad, horrible. If you ever buy oatmeal cookies rather than another type because you think its healthier, then you are fooling yourself.

Adventures in single dad cooking

2009-05-01T19:52:00.003-05:00

No oatmeal cookie recipe. Used internet
No eggs. Use mayo
No vanilla extract. Used almond extract
No measuring
Didn't like batter flavor... Added white wine (works for frying and
sautees. Why wouldn't it work here?)

Can't find brown sugar (I know its somewhere...) instead I mixed in a miasma of dark corn syrup, light corn syrup, molasses, and cocoa powder

--
Sent from Gmail for mobile | mobile.google.com

Weather report

2009-04-28T06:04:00.001-05:00

More storms. I hope that the winds are better at least. You would
thing heavy rain and pea-sized hail would mean not driving 85 on the
beltway and not tailgating at 1 foot distance, but if you thought
that... you'd be wrong.

As I sometimes say, I believe that people who brew decaf and
tailgaters will share the same circle of hell. In my Dantesque vision,
its actually the loop highway around hell and the tailgaters all are
stuck behind the decaf brewers. The decaf brewers all feel hung over
and also they just took a benedryl for their allergy to hell. The
tailgaters all just ate the burito from hell and need to get to an
exit to use a bathroom. Occasionally the tailgater manages to get to
the exit where they are tormented by the gas station toilets of hell.
Because we damn ourselves, the tailgater always buys another burito
from the gas station convenience store from hell and gets back on the
highway ... For eternity!!

--
Sent from Gmail for mobile | mobile.google.com

Funny article about the Turing test

2009-04-27T06:01:00.002-05:00

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/04/27/technology/27jeopardy.html

'For example, the sentence "I never said she stole my money" can have
seven different meanings depending on which word is stressed'

Because its early, I kept reading "monkey" rather than "money. " And
thus I got way more than seven meaning out of it, thanks to George
Michael.

--
Sent from Gmail for mobile | mobile.google.com

"RAINFOREST" Dakota Jane Li's Ambient Dance Club Mix

2009-04-26T22:26:00.003-05:00

Title (by Artist )
Sweet Lullaby (Deep Forest )
Home Computer (Kraftwerk)
Night Bird (Deep Forest)
in my heart (MOBY)
The First Twilight (Deep Forest)
Jungle Fresh Space (Monkeyz vs. Gorillaz)
Savana Dance (Deep Forest)
Something About Us (Daft Punk)
Desert Walk (Deep Forest)
Earth (Gaia) (The Orb)
White Whisper (Deep Forest)
Heaven (Nicola Conte "West Coast Vibes" Remix)
Forest Hymn (Deep Forest)

Notes:

This is really the first mix where Dakota picked all the tracks.

I'm looking for simple re-mixing software but all of it is too complicated to be fun for kids.

I couldn't be prouder of Dakota for giving a pass on "Little Fluffy Clouds" and going instead for the much more difficult and freakier "Earth (Gaia)" She likes the Flash Gordon MOOG organ sounds.

Quotes:

"I like Deep Forest, it clears my mind and makes me think of the rainforests"

"Can we move 'home computer' up on the mix? They sometimes set-up computers in the rain forest to conduct scientific studies."

"Ok party people, lemme see you flip."

Clouds

2009-04-26T13:39:00.001-05:00

There is a peanuts where lucy, linus, and charlie brown are looking at
the clouds. Linus sees a famous cathedral and something else that
evidences his precocious errudition. Charlie Brown feels inadequate in
comparison and says so "I was going to say a horsey and a ducky, but I
changed my mind."

I always think about that wheb I look at clouds. Sometimes I smile.

--
Sent from Gmail for mobile | mobile.google.com

3 of 4

William's Too Heavy Back-Pack

a haiku by Dakota Li

New Months

Merry Christmas from William Li

Me Three Shirts From Mail Order Far

Discussing the meaning of irony with Dakota

Chachews and shellfish

High Comedy

Sketch - "Why The Monkey Fell Out Of The Tree"

The Least Original Idea Ever

The canonical rant about X-mass music

Sandwich Therapy Breakthrough

Count Your Blessings

Kids, watch this!

My Thoughts About Thanksgiving (reprint)

William Li, for real not fiction

Dakota and Dad's recipe for Thanksgiving Cranberry Sauce

My idea of what poetry could and should be

The Forgotten Joke about Moses

Duets (the Karaoke movie)

Whatever is the opposite of self-doubt

Self Doubt (Halloween Style)

Decrypting Life's Mysteries

Birthday In Hell

Sandwich Therapy

Peristalsis

The Pirate and the Unicorn

Coinstar is now free

Home

3AM at Walmart

Super Personnel Person's Universe

Dermabond, America

Eulogy revisted

Time Verge Love Triangle Plot Matrix (click on post title to view better)

Two Songs By Jason

ENTJ

Some rules for time travel (for a fictional universe, not based on physics)

Epilogue

Please visit the memorial website for my mother.

The Inside Joke

The Devil's Scheme (a short story about COMP 210)

WHAT IF .... Huey Lewis had written Blues Traveller "Four"

Pink Panther

Word to your father

Jokes are like alchemy

Wow.... this new layout looks terrible

Homemade Pizza

The Daily Survivor -- a great way to lose money

Curiouser and curiouser

Vignettes of suburban life for single Dad

The Bad Guy in Dakota's Comic Universe

An Ode To Sriracha Chili Sauce

Talking to my tweet

The F-22

Best of the trippy story games

Racism is the GOP's turd in the punchbowl (Sen. Tom Coburn at the Sotomayor hearings)

Things I have learned by being a parent (canonical rant)

More stupid questions about Supreme Court Nominee

Independance Day Advice

Bad decision on Vicodin

You've heard this one before

Buzz Aldrin Raps

Annie are you OK?

Lorem ipsum

Canonical rant: kid food

The Prince Charles Style

If I could be a superhero

Leatherfoot's facebook status

Do not buy sunglasses for a 4 year old

I like Regina Spektor

Winona Ryder and Christian Slater are doing a sequel to Heathers

Words of advice for young people

Puff piece journalism

First impression of Bing

I am not running for Mayor

Fighting Pink Eye

Joke musical keys

The Slate discovers that people outside of California like sci-fi

Lunchtime thought