Thursday, November 30, 2006

An Introduction to Zen

The University Professor came to the door of the Zen Master at the appointed time and knocked on the door. The Master opened the door and invited the Professor in. The Professor said, "I have come to learn Zen from you!"

"May I get you some tea?" asked the Master, showing the Professor into his den and offering him a seat. "Yes, thank you, I'd appreciate that," said the Professor.

The Master returned with a large teapot and a cup, which he set in front of the professor on the table. Then, the Master poured the tea from the teapot into the cup, and continued pouring the tea as the cup filled and then ran over the side onto the table, and then onto the floor. The Master continued pouring the tea. The Professor could tolerate no more, and jumped up yelling, "STOP, the cup is overfull, the tea is pouring all over the floor." The Master put the teapot down, and said to the Professor, "Just as with the teacup, before i can teach you anything about Zen, you must first empty your mind of all of your preconceived thoughts and notions."

Any thoughts?

Wednesday, November 29, 2006

Time To Answer The Mail And The Rest Of You!!

"How did I get into the world? Why was I not asked about it, why was I not informed of the rules and regulations but just thrust into the ranks as if I had been bought by a peddling shanghaier of human beings? How did I get involved in this big enterprise called actuality? Why should I be involved? Isn't it a matter of choice? And if I am compelled to be involved, where is the manager—I have something to say about this. Is there no manager? To whom shall I make my complaint?"


This beautiful quote was at the end of a wonderful e mail that I got last night. I'm just taking the other path. Take as much freedom as you like. Write any form that you like. Make it short, make it long. Make it a poem. Make it yours. Does that mean it's your own personal story? Not necessarily, you just have to write it. And, it needs to be about a woman or women, because that's the restriction I put on this.

Some questions have been:

Why did you bring up this guy's Kennedy's research....?

Fair enough. Existentialism, briefly is about the human struggle to find meaning in people's lives. Anxiety or angst arises in people as we're the only animal that knows that we will die, we just don't know when. So why put up with this crap we all do? What moves us along all these years? You can start by looking at the people that wrote the existential literature to begin with. Sartre wrote "No Exit" and then decided to write the ever-popular "Nausea". Why bother with the second book? Why not just kill himself and save himself the taxes and the grief with the government. I mean, he did live in France, and that meant bureaucracy. The existentialists look like the worst pessimists on Earth. But if you scratch a pessimist, you find an optimist, because there's no other reason to get that involved in something and to try to keep looking for a way out. Really. Gives a little more meaning to the thought "Never Surrender".

In Psychology, Kennedy provides us with the same motive for movement, namely humans need to affiliate, hang out with others, exercise power, get others to do things; and achieve, technically this is taking on risk and reducing it within the organism. You can think of it as risking failure to achieve, like, going to school to learn, writing a story for publication, finding a way out of your comfort zone or setting goals that stretch you.

I hope you can see the relationship now.

What possessed you to do this?

A couple of things and people did. One is Misanthropster. She is a much better writer than me. She ought to be writing more. She started a blog about things she wanted to complain about, and you know there's plenty that needs attention drawn to it, but she has talent vastly beyond that. So I filed that away in the back of my mind. I didn't put up her blog because she isn't writing much anymore. A real shame.

And then there is my bloggy sister Alison, who like Misanthropster is also smarter than I am. She graduated from college and should have gone into TV, but went to France instead where there this dude, and she had kids and ended up teaching English. She passed some government test that had nothing to do with anything, and became a civil servant. If you know that I am into Friedman as an economist and that I hold Republicans and Democrats in equal disdain, then please don't expect to warmly embrace the French bureaucracy. Skipping unless details TV work was not available in France, and now that she is here, there has not yet been an opportunity for any TV work here. We all are constrained by the opportunities available, it's not like you can always make something happen.

There is something terribly wrong with that dialog that you wrote yesterday, but I can't quite put my finger on it. Can you tell me what's wrong, please? And why?

When I was in grad school, the head of the doctoral program was also my statistics professor. The first day of the semester was a Thursday, and our course met Tuesdays and Thursdays. The course was Baysian Statistics and he thought we should do a general calc review. So he gave us one problem to do. Solve for the integral of 1 over the formula for the normal curve. Looked like it could be done, just sit down and do it. Maybe take an hour. I want you to know that he and I sat on a committee to pick a new minicomputer for the School of Business for two hours after class, in fact, we were the committee, just he and I. He kept a straight face all the way through as we chatted and talked about alternatives. We were on a first name basis, even in class. Never let being on a first name basis go to your head when you are working with people with International reputations. When they are that good, they don't care what you call them.

I got home and decided to knock out the home work that night and get my own course work going for my students. So, I broke out the parts, and, wooops, that won't work, so then I tried......and this went on all night. And I broke and went to school and taught class, and answered questions from the undergrads as I tried to cut my class size down from 135 to under 50. Rule 1: No smiling. Yes, there is a paper in this class. How long? As long as it takes to cover the subject. How many pages is that? I don't know, what's the topic you're writing on? (I am creating panic to get them to go to other people's courses, or to drop out of mine. I had the reputation of hard but fair. Those majoring in the subject wanted me because IBM would hire out of the second class up the line of they could earn a "B" or better. I also had to turn to the board a lot because there was no door at the back of the room for them to sneak out. On the other hand, for being such a nasty bastard, I did cancel class one day because it was the first day of Spring, and another year, we had class outside. I'm just vicious, making them think and all that).

I spent the entire weekend and tried everything I could think of to solve a problem in calculus that it turns out can't be solved. A perfect problem to review calculus. So if you think that the dialog with the 'goddess' is wrong, then by all means, re-write it. You'll get the idea that I'm not a writer. You all are writers. Life makes us all thinkers.

Why are you so late today?

The Center for Disease Control called after I got home from physical therapy and wanted to talk about doing some statistical work for them. I have been having trouble sleeping, I keep waking up in the middle of the night sweating bullets. I think I'm having an achievement deficiency.

Let's see what comments we have now.

Tuesday, November 28, 2006

The Phone Call

me: Hello
(the red headed female sexual goddess of my dreams since puberty hereafter known as the Goddess or 'her' is on the phone)
her: Hi, me again

me: How's it been?
her: fine, I have a few questions for you, if you don't mind?

me: I have never minded anything you've wanted since I created you all those years ago.
her: thank you, you've always been my biggest fan! You've really been into the existentialism lately, haven't you. What's wrong?

me: Why do you think there's something wrong?
her: Take yesterday's post. You're trying to give everyone therapy and teach existential theory at the same time. That's a tall order for anyone, particularly for people you can't even see.

me: If I was going to do that, I'd ask them to write their own obituary, wouldn't I? Nice try Goddess, I'm impressed. I'm really just sharing here.
her: Sharing? You're trying to beat the system existentially, we're all alone, you know. We use sex to break the illusion of being alone, because we're temporarily connected. But, we're all alone, and we all suffer.

me: Now you know how much I like sex, Goddess, and you know how much I practice. I need to check to see if I can get my insurance to pay for repetitive stress syndrome for masturbation staying in shape. But you're looking at this like a literary intellectual, which I respect. There was a psychologist named Kennedy at Harvard back in the 50's who said that humans had three motives, reasons to move or do things, affiliation, power, and achievement. I'm just sharing so I can affiliate with some people. Perfectly acceptable existentially.

her: psychology? So what are you really trying to get away with here?
me: I was thinking about getting people to write a piece about a woman and her struggles.

her: Really? Why a woman? And why her struggles?
me: I think a little bigger than normal. I keep hearing that famous actresses keep bitching that there's no material written for them to showcase their talents. What I learned form blogging is that there are a ton of people who can write out there. Better than I could ever hope to write. And write a piece. The only rule is it's about a woman/women.

her: And then?
me: I publish the winner here to undying fame and adulation!

her: you will figure out how to announce this?
me: I'll ask the board.

her: And judging it?
me: I'll ask the board.

her: why do you think anyone will do it?
me: did you read the comments? CMHL told everyone the I-R Model (Internal-Role Model) in Psychology in two sentences, spoon laid out reality in that no one know what's coming, we all just react to whatever happens, Claudia and almost everyone else talked about the need to take risk. They don't need me at all. I look like Caspare Milkqtoast in this group. Even Puss is in there. Tell you what, I'll ask them to sign up. OK, maybe tomorrow. Let me think about this.

What I wrote above is a sort of existential play, and it also starts a discussion about what I have in mind for a writing idea. I'm sure most of you can write better than me. What do you all think?

Monday, November 27, 2006

A Thought For The Day

"Most men lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the song still in them."
Henry David Thoreau

I keep reading and hearing in discussions that people don't know what they want out of life. I throw my two cents in by adding that I want more. A lot more. I don't want to be specific because I really don't want to limit myself. It's one of the reasons I don't like memes, whatever they are. Asking where I'd like to go is really the same as asking me where I'd like to go today. Today, somewhere warm, let's go to Hawaii and hit the beach and have some drinks. But I digress.

I have a really good friend in California who is 27. She really wants to be married. I can't figure out if it's because she wants a companion, or she wants children, or she thinks that's what is expected of her. Ten minutes later, she will explain that she doesn't have a clue what she wants to do, but she is positive that she wants to be out of debt including her college debt. She also wants a house in Ventura, California. None of these are "things I want to do with my life" as she has been working at temp jobs since she got out of school and hasn't picked a career yet.

This little composite ought to sound familiar. Unless you graduated from college and went to a school learn a profession such as law or dentistry, etc., most people end up in business somewhere, and it's pretty hit or miss. Some of you might have gone into Education, and gone into the Public Education System somewhere. If so, unless you are in a University, you don't have the time to blog.

I wonder how people find what they like doing, and make it a part of their life, since we spend so much time at work, more than any other endeavor we do? Any ideas?

Sunday, November 26, 2006

Glamourpuss, You The Man This Week

If you've never read Glamourpuss' blog before, you might take a look while she's gone. Her last post also list several [laces where you might want to shop for fabulous lingerie for those of you so inclined. But if you want to see what the woman is really made of, and why you wish she was your friend in real life, you should read this long post, and wait for what happens when she gets to the club where her friend is dancing. Puss is one of the reasons that I am glad that I blog! Puss, You The Man!

Rule Britannia

Rule Britannia The Long or Complete Version watch for the brief message at the very end

For English Patroits

The British National Anthem a.k.a. God Save The Queen a.k.a. Never Surrender

Time For A FAQ

I am going to think about taking a page out of my bloggy sister Alison's book, or blog actually, and solicit questions from all of you to the following question" What would you like to know about me? Be reasonable. I'll give this a couple of days and we'll see if I can make a FAQ out of it.

I don't believe in the 100 things about me. Everytime I read one of them, I see things like I have 47 tattoos and 191 piercings. Or some sort of a weird medical. I'm just not that interesting. I didn't bother with filling in the profile on the blog form. I don't know what my favorite movie or book is anymore, I'm still looking for it. I am trying to settle on water as my favorite drink. I'm still pretty sure that I really, really, REALLY like women. That's been pretty consistent

So let's give this a shot. And you really want Interesting, check out the Blogroll on the right, there's a ton of interesting over there. Write for recommenedations. Please state your preferences.

Friday, November 24, 2006

In Honor Of Mist 1

It was oh dark thirty and I was putting on my war paint after climbing into my camo for the Super Bowl of the Shopping World, Black Friday. This was the day that retailers everywhere cut prices and increased their volume and in so doing, turned a profit for the year. These were the largest discounts given during the year, and they kicked off the Christmas Shopping Season. Power Shoppers everywhere trained all year long for this day, and finally, it was upon us.

The stores had been sending sale announcements to shoppers to build interest. Shoppers took these announcements and after careful analysis and more research on the Internet and thorough processing on the neural net taking into account the sum of all purchases (gifts and otherwise) grouped by store, and integrated across the the probability mass so you can make sure that you get the highest dollar return for your effort. It's just like having sex with a girl you like where you want to make sure she has multiple orgasms. You can't leave these things to chance, you know.

Costco was offering discounts for the very first time in its existence. But they had a kicker that was certain to make them a hit at the holiday season. They had two pair of Manolo Blahnik Over-The-Knee Suede Boot with a 4 1/5 heel, that zipped in the back and diamond cutoffs on the cuff. The boot retailed at Neiman-Marcus for $1450, but my Costco had two pair size 6 1/2 for $500.
Normal people would not be able to get within miles of that Costco for days. Power shoppers score goodies where angels fear to tread, and this would be no different.

The Wednesday night before Thanksgiving, I had hidden in the store after it had closed. The trick was to hide the boots in a place where only I could retrieve them and therefore purchase them. Getting to the store was going to be impossible, parking was going to be insane, and the lines at the checkout registers were going to be impossible. Yet the prize was worth it. The boots were to die for.

And now, after all of the preparation, the training, the car modifications, it was game time, and I was prepared. It was time to go to war. I had good intelligence on traffic from Pickled Olives and was prepared for the LOLs (Little Old Ladies) who liked to run you off the road in their Nissan Pathfinders if you dropped below 70 on the Interstate. They liked to sneer at me and call me Sonny while kicking gravel in my face. I don't think they were thinking of the "Godfather" when they were doing it either.

I was ready. I had ordered an upgrade to my DeLorean from Industrial Light and Magic and had the Light Speed Generator installed. Cheap at $9950. At 0230 I started my attack. I rolled out onto the Interstate. I weaved at traffic started getting heavier, and then the LOLs started trying to hem me in. I cut right and down shifted accelerating to 77 miles an hour and then I punched the magic twanger and the car leaped into the air, and all the little dots of light turned into curves. The GPS started beeping when we were over Costco, which was in 0.000003526 sec. Light speed is really fast, 11.2 inches in a nanosecond. I punched the "Land and Park" button and the car wafted down into the best parking spot by the exit door. Next, I set up the self-correcting auto-gyroscopic triple mirroring system that would render me invisible walking to the front door and through it. I had to get in early and the lines were already half a mile long. Deception was mandatory.

The rest was pretty much cake. As the doors opened, I slipped in and rushed to the back where I retrieved my pair of boots from their hiding place at the top of the third rack of the Tide aisle. I was tempted to rush to the front where the cash registers were, but I noticed a high end Kitchen Aid coffee grinder and I was recently clued in to a source for good Cuban coffee by Claudia. And then there was the new Cuisinart blender that I just had to have, and the price was really attractive too! And the LG refrigerator with the built-in TV.....

I am standing here in my kitchen with the vodka sitting in the water in the empty milk carton freezing in the freezer, while I am grinding some Starbuck's Verona coffee. I have to get a hold of Claudia's Mom and get some of the good Cuban coffee so i can get wired every morning and jumpstart my heart n'shit. I am making 8 cups of coffee for myself because I am mixing up some sort of drink in the blender that has Asti Spumanti, Apricot brandy, 43 (a vanilla extract cordial), Grand manier, and some orange juice, with some ice. I just love chemistry. And now, you'll have to excuse me. I'm going to go read your blogs, and kick back, and get loaded, and drink coffee, and laugh a lot. The Manolo boots are sitting right here. I only spent $4235 at Costco, but look at the bargains I got!

All of this happened, more or less. -- Kurt Vonnegut

Thursday, November 23, 2006

Thank You

To The Responsible Deity:

Thank you for another year with my wife.
Thank you for sparing my cat.
Thank you for sparing me.
Thank you for my new found friends here, and the old friends who have always been with me.

Hallelujah Hallelujah sing Hallelujah

Happy Thanksgiving Everyone, and to you and yours wherever you may be. I hope to see more of you soon!

Wednesday, November 22, 2006

From The CEO's Kitchen

After flying combat mission up and down the Interstate this morning in preparation for Black Friday (when the retail stores break into the black for the first time in the year) or Physical Therapy this afternoon, I have been assailed by people who cannot cook for a recipe they can make to take to Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow, for those in the States. Fear NOT, this is easy, and you need not spend a fortune by buying expensive wine, although you owe me for this one. Big time.

Go to your local grocery store and buy the following:
4 cans of jellied cranberries
1 can of cubed peaches
you can get them sliced if you want to cut them up into smaller pieces
1 can pitted Bing cherries
1 can Mandarin oranges
1 can Bartlett pears
i small jar McCormick ground ginger

one can of almost any other fruit you'd like to add.
Here's where it gets tough. You really need a couple of tools. You can get by with 1 large bowl, 2 is better. Remember, we're going to dump 4 cans of cranberries in to start. Think a couple of quarts please. And a strainer. A 3" paring knife, and a spoon to stir this up with, think a large wooden slotted spoon, please. Doesn't have to be wood, use your imagination. We will need a refrigerator.

Now, this is really easy, I have made the list so that you don't overlook little things. Really. I figure everyone has a can opener.

Open the cranberries and pour them into a large bowl. Put it on the side.
Drain the first can of fruit of all of its juice. When the juice is gone, add the fruit to the cranberries. Repeat the process until all of the fruit has been added without its juice to the cranberries.

If you bought pear halves, for example, cut them into smaller pieces before adding them to the cranberries.

Add two to three teaspoons of the ground ginger to the cranberries and stir thoroughly. Taste. If there is no tangy taste, add another teaspoon of ginger and stir. Refrigerate overnight and take with you the next day. Cover the bowl with aluminum foil or saran wrap before leaving the house. Taste first. you should like it before you take it.

If you want to see a real food pro work with cranberries, Alison
my bloggy sister, started last night with a post called Sweet Jewels and will be revealing her "Plan" tonight. The basic recipe can from a friend of hers who covered hers with chocolate, so there's a lot more exotic food out there to be eaten!

Any other favorites?

Tuesday, November 21, 2006

I Could Use A Little Insight Here

I just posted this issue in the comments section of a different blog, but this has been bugging me for a while. My spam, daily, has at least ten to twelve offers of cut priced Viagra and Valium. Picture this please. There I am, with my wife, or the woman of my dreams, because she answered the ad that I still haven't written, the red-headed female sexual athlete, or black haired, or brunette, nothing against blondes you know, and I pop my cut-rate viagra/valium combo while I am talking, and starting a little foreplay.

For all of the valium and viagra, what do you think is going to happen? I hate running through women like that.

Monday, November 20, 2006

The Official Completely Serious Totally Objective Absolutely Unauthorized Review of the Tiffany King Blog

Since late Friday afternoon when the elite technical staff of The Morning Meeting was assembled in complete secrecy and darkness (daylight ends at 4:30 PM around here), the most extensive review of both the content and physical presentation of the A dog, a cat, and a girl in fabulous shoes Blog written by Tiffany King, hereafter known as The Blog.

Right away, it was obvious that almost everything was just wrong. Totally, absolutely wrong. When you read the given Mission Statement of The Blog you get : "When choosing between two evils, I like to try the one I've never tried before. ~Mae West" as the sacred mission. This is the standard that we used to measure the success of The Blog against, to be Totally Fair and Completely Objective, Naturally. There's not much to be found in the way of Mae West evils and I mean to tell you, I went looking for some evil. I was particularly interested in the Booty post where a patient tells her she has the butt to die for. I even posted a comment at the time requesting a picture of that butt. So far, bumkus (I know it's spelled with a 'p', think about it). Nuthin'. Zero. Zip. Zilch. Nada. Nothing. Not Nowhere.
Here on the left, is an instruction manual for you Tiffany, for exactly how to accomplish this and spicy up the blog a little. There's also the bending over pose, and well, you can use your imagination. You can get the patient who was so motivated, or even this reviewer to be the photographer. This might also be an opportunity to see some of those fabled "fabulous shoes" from the title. So far, Tiffany had lost 62.4 x 10x23 points dwarfing Avagadro's Number. Things were going downhill fast. Then there's the whole Cool Kids thang. First of all, if you want to hang with the Big Timers, you have to be able to spell. You want to be a K-E-W-L kid, Kids Eating Wicked Lunches, formerly Kids Eating Wholesome Lunches. Both involved massive amounts of protected sex, so there was no ambiguity. This was the desirable group. Cool went out in the 60's. more lost points. Thank Goodness, we have computers to help us tabulate, and Price Waterhouse representatives. And the music, Oh My Lord, I have yet to hear a single movement from Beethoven. Not a single movement from Brahms. I'm talking negative numbers so big that deficit financing is no longer available.

But the killer, the real disaster for The Blog is the color scheme. I cannot tell you the number of investigators that needed sedation. We're using the standard of orange juice, Asti Spumanti and Grand Manier to lay 'em out. We're being merciful. It is Monday Morning after all. Not to worry, we'll get 'em rehydrated if it takes all day and night. I'll see to it myself. Just as soon as I finish this report.

Both the Palomar Observatory and NASA Goddard report the color scheme on The Blog when differentiated have caused the latency and rotational delay of Pluto to degenerate and therefore and more importantly thereby degenerate Pluto into a dwarf. The people at Disney are furious, their stock dropped when they reported their last quarterly results. For giving us a buying opportunity in Disney (DIS), we gave The Blog points.

Last, can I get some of your Mother's pie recipes already? C'mon. I mean, Total Objectivity ain't cheap today. And don't forget the fillings, not just the pie crust.

Now, i could go through the computational methodology, using various interstitial, normalizing measures, and computing, and I could show you the integrations, the triple integration was actually fun, really, and when you factor in the part about hurting men she got points, lost them for not spanking me when she had the chance, got them back for not getting me after the epidurals, got more points after the cat incident this weekend, she scored more points than you can write without scientific notation. Not that I have a soft spot in my heart for cats, nope, I am TOTALLY SCIENTIFIC AND OBJECTIVE and let us never forget that.

If you're looking for hot sex and a lot of skin, The Blog is not the place for you. If you don't like Tiffany's current musical selection and you can't turn your speakers down, and you can't tough out the song, don't come here. You can point at all of the design gurus and they will all say that you should never put music on your site. Correct. That's for professional designers designing professional sites. If you want to see a professionally designed web site here is the Global Transportation Consultancy Web Site and the designers have gone to the trouble of optimizing search engines searches on about 1200 pairs of industry specific words. Their designer, singular, used a color designer found in this article by Lorelle on WordPress on designing with color. In fact, I read Lorelle VanFossen a lot, particularly for blogging tips and a great place to start for any design issue you can dream up. Me, i wanted a simple blog. Look at this. Looks like a book, doesn't it. Black letters, or at least they look black on a white page. Pretty fucking ingenious, wasn't it. Totally by design, I am a designer, by the way, don't you know. Let me read a minute, showed you a professional site where a guy makes a living off the site (I know him and his SO), gave you some references, no you can't use mine, I go straight to the source of all things good and holy, namely Alison, my bloggy kid sister (mom had a love child in her wanning years). There may be a complete sentence in there, but it's doubtfull there's a complete thought. No matter. We forge on. There are more faux Mimosas to drink. Or is it pseudo mimosae? Is it afternoon yet? My Greek is terrible. Being a critic, tough work, I have to tell you. Maybe you just had to read the last review of her site, burp. I'll take another hit of that stuff too while you're standing over me, thank you.

Now, if you are looking for a blog where you can meet a decent person, who works hard, and open herself up, and her family to you and everyone else, with warmth and welcome, you've come to the right place. If you like the humor, can deal with the angst, can deal with the hair styles and the color changes, have a clue what it is like to live alone and away from the people you are closest to, then you have come to the right place. If you want to be a part of something warm wand inviting, then jump in and be a part of it. You'll either fit or you won't. Everyone has been welcome. Tiffany publishes multiple times a day, so I tend to check there more than I check my own blog. She probably has more to say than I do. Why not drop in and decide for yourself, never trust a critic when you can think for yourself. That goes particularly for me!
Just when you thought a post had ended. I got a call from Batman on the Batphone while he was patrolling Gotham City. He said, "CEO, people are complaining about your post because they never read the original critical review. Can you correct that while i am fighting the forces of e-vile here in Gotham?" "Sure" I said. And you can read it here.
And for you Batman, anytime!

Friday, November 17, 2006

Another Way To Look At Things

It has come to my attention that several of the people that I interact with on a daily basis have been harassed unnecessarily. I am not going to mention MJ's name because that's a cause for sudden death. We do NOT mock the WIND and I will NOT tell you her name. Nope, not happenin' . Nay, we defer out of good sense and good taste. So, why would anyone in their right mind want to hassle her in a Starbuck's?

Two I won't mention. I never mentioned Mist's name of the Marvelous Mirth Machine so don't even mention it because she'll just say something like, "I have no idea what he's talking about." And she'd be correct. I'm allowed to be strange, I'm the CEO.

But the piece d'resistance, the one that really torqued my day was Tiffany's Review by someone who admitted to having a hangover. I'm not going to go through that stupidity either. It's hard to spray deer pee on an idiot reviewer who is full of themself. This place would not pass anyone's review. The template is too plain, and my language, well, it's mine.

Accordingly, I tried to emulate Crankster when he created the Douchitudinousness
Tradition but I am not in his league. So, I found this for my friends to use. It's an mp3 and if you go the site and play it, you'll see the best I could do for these folks. I suggest you use this site when confronted by scum such as my friends where. Then, there's the animated version. Just making sure you have alternatives. The other good news was that I found another site that also contained this mp3 as a part of it and you might consider incorporating it too. After a while, the site will try to sell you some t-shirts, so be advised.

Have a great weekend!

Thursday, November 16, 2006

In Memory of Milton Friedman

Milton Friedman 1912 - 2006

Milton Friedman is the reason that you can go to sleep at night and not worry about another 30's style Depression. He was awarded the Nobel Prize in Economics in 1976 for his work on Monetary Theory. In English, he explained to the World how the Federal Reserve System should work, how monetary policy should work, and how to make sure that another Depression never happened. Before him, no one had the faintest idea how monetary policy actually worked. Alan Greenspan and Ben Bernanke have already made public pronouncements about his guiding insights that either enabled Greenspan, or guide Bernanke to running this Countries daily economic affairs.

You might or might not like his politics, but one thing was certain, his economics worked. The last project he was working on was removing government from its last bastion of total power, education. He was a strong proponent of vouchers in education.

One of the greatest thinkers of the 20th Century has passed on.

A Little Talk With Freud

Dear Siggy,

It's always good to talk to you again. It's been too long since our last talk. Things have just piled up a bit and some things have started bothering me, so I thought I'd book an appointment, so to speak, and see if I could work a few things out. I know how analytic you are, so if you don't mind, I think I'll begin.

First of all, the news. This dorky guy Federline is offering to sell sex tapes that he made of him and his wife for $30 million. Her name is Britney Spears. They're supposed to be like four hours long. I cannot begin to tell you how not interested I am in those tapes, much less than for $30 million. I'm not interested in sex tapes of me at any price, why would I want them of him? Is there something wrong with me?

Next, the lady that lives behind me, the one with the 'killer' dog that she sic'd on me that tried to scare me last Spring. I have to tell you that I have no idea how the small herd of deer suddenly showed up in her back yard this morning. Ate all her brand new shrubs and bushes. They were really chowing down all morning from the early hours doc, you should have seen 'em. She tried to get that pit bull to chase them out of the yard, but he was no match for those deer. They peed and dumped all over her yard, and then jumped her fence and went right to the next yard and ate their shrubs too. Peed all over their yard too, then left. You should have heard the second neighbor screaming at the first neighbor. I have no idea what they were saying, but I'm pretty sure that the deer will be back. I wish they would eat some of the ivy in my back yard. Maybe some deer pee back there would work too. I doubt of the deer will want ivy when they can have delicious shrubbery.

One more thing Siggy. I have developed this thing over the name Lola. The name is sensuality itself. Sends electric waves up and down my spine. go ahead, say it with me one. "Lola". Is that not about as sexy as it gets. Lola. Makes me thing of garter belts and stockings with that seam up the back, and a pole. Maybe I should reconsider the sex tapes. What do you think doc? Is there any hope for me?

Tuesday, November 14, 2006

Latest Update For Tuesday November 14th, 2006

07:30 am Down another pound after drinking an enormous amount of water for the week and not losing an oz. The Potomac River is at dangerously low levels. More to follow.

11:30 am I have returned from tai chi. It was just me and the Ancient One. We started working on long swords after the form today. It seemed smart to agree to never discuss politics again. We discussed allergies instead. It was a wonderful session!

Also, I have a confession to make. CMHL mentioned in comments here that she now drank 99% water, no diet soda, and 1% coffee. I confess that I did give up diet soda, but I cannot live without coffee. I have feet of clay, and weak flesh. I am maybe 150 pounds away from anorexia. Back to work.

3:19 pm I have another confession to make. The American male no longer reads books, and the American female no longer reads non-fiction. I still read books. My confession is that the last book that I read, and I am being serious here, is "Creme Brulee" by Sara Lewis. I will admit that I am sitting here sipping my water as if it were chablis, while fondling my creme brulee torch and aimlessly daydreaming. I do not count my review of "The Prince" by Machiavelli because the neighbor behind me with the cross between a doberman and a "fighting" dog pissed me off; nor do I count the Sunday morning review of Baysian Statistics for fun. I had already read those books.

4:00 pm The Dow, S&P bot6h close at record highs. The Nasdaq closes higher. Have you maxed your 401K? Funded your Roth IRA? Hugged someone you love recently? Commented rather than lurking?

5:00 pm The Republican Party just called and wanted to know if I'd vote for Rudy Giuliani for President in 2008. Given that the mid-term election was LAST TUESDAY, naturally, THIS TUESDAY is the start of the Presidential election campaign for 2008. I politely asked who he would be running against. The person on the phone said that they didn't know. I said that I didn't know if I could vote for him then. This started a waltz.
her: Well, do you like him for President?
me: I need choices, I can't make decisions in a vacuum
her: I don't understand
me: If I had to choose between Bush or Chaney and Rudy, Rudy wins hands down.
her: Mr. Bush can't run again
me: his father can
her: oh, I don't think he'd do that
me: promise?
her: well, I really can't do that. What about a Democrat?
me: which one?
her: I don't do Democrats.
me: we're back to Ground Zero
her: please don't say that
me: tell you what, put me down as a definite maybe considering
her: this doesn't feel right
me: want me to show you how to do it?
her: can you?
me: Ma'am, are you a registered Republican?
her: why yes I am, thank you for asking.
me: Of all of the Republican Candidates that you know of for President of the United States, would you say that Rudy Giuliani is your first choice?
her: he certainly is.
me: would you consider making a donation to his campaign, please
her: I think that would be a wonderful idea, where should I send the check?
me: I think you have the address right in front of you.
her: thank you so much, and have a good day!

6:00 pm There's a rumor that a teacher in Chantilly, VA is teaching an underground class in English grammar. Other teachers are flocking there, but can't find the school, not being able to correctly spell Chantilly for Mapquest. Details may follow.

Monday, November 13, 2006


The CEO has put me in charge of today's Morning Meeting. That's right, I am a Guest Blogger. Why has it taken so long for anyone to ask me to be a Guest Blogger?

First, I'd like to thank the CEO for making sure that I'm comfortable here. I found my dressing room with the star on the door that read "Mist 1" and the fruit basket was a lovely touch.

Monday, I wrote a post about my grandpa. The CEO has suggested that perhaps this is not the right look for my blog. People that visit my blog, want to read about my slightly slutty life. I blog about vibrators and panties and dating and wine and shoes and my a$$. He has asked that I tell a story about Grandpa here on The Morning Meeting. Here, is my favorite story about my grandpa.

Grandpa grew up in the Great Depression. It was a sin to waste food. That lesson stuck with him throughout his life.

After Grandpa retired, he found that he enjoyed cooking. He always made a dish to go with dinner. It never quite fit the meal, and sometimes, it wasn't very good (i.e. prunes in tuna salad), but it was a chance to spend more time with Grandma. Grandma lived in the kitchen. She had done so for years.

His specialty was cole slaw. It was creamy and the cabbage was cut just right. Not too fine. Just right. When he got the taste for his cole slaw, it took a powerful hold on him. He set off for the store to purchase some cabbage.

In the produce department, all the cabbages were too large. He only needed half of a large cabbage for his cole slaw. He found an employee and asked to purchase a half of a cabbage.

"The cabbages are sold whole, Sir."

"I really only need a half a cabbage for my cole slaw," Grandpa protested.

"Then use half and throw the rest away," the employee replied.

Grandpa gave him a brief history of the Great Depression. The man paid little attention to Grandpa's lesson and informed him that it wasn't a waste as cabbages were $0.49 apiece. Grandpa asked to see the Produce Manager.

The employee stalked off with Grandpa behind him. Bursting into the Produce Manager's office, the employee said, "Some jerk-off wants to buy a half a head of cabbage."

My grandfather cleared his throat.

Surprised, the employee said, "and this fine gentleman has agreed to buy the other half!"

Mist 1

Sunday, November 12, 2006

I Declare Today Holmes Day

I have received more e mail about Holmes than anything I have written so far. I am posting the only pictures I have used on the Internet so far so you can see her for yourself. I know that everyone that has a cat falls in love with it. We were even more fortunate in that Holmes came with a sister named Watson. Watson passed away in January 2003 from stomach cancer. For just under four years, Holmes has had to shoulder the burden of being the only cat in a house full of crazed cat worshipers. It's been tough on her, but she eventually adapted.

Holmes and her sister were born in West Virginia April 24, 1989. They were born outside at a house where the ended up under foot, and were shooed out by the woman who lived there. To this day, Holmes is afraid of a broom. By the time she was six weeks old Holmes and her sister were 'rescued and brought to the SPCA near where I live. The same Friday that they hit the State of Maryland, my wife's hematologist gave her clearance, after years of arguing I might add, to get a pet for the first time.

The following morning, we ended up at the local SPCA to look at cats. The lady there steered us to a 2 year old that seemed to shy away from us. I wasn't wild with enthusiasm for a cat that didn't want to be with us, not that I knew what I was doing. The woman seemed to think that since we hadn't had any cats before, that we weren't the best candidates for kittens. That also didn't make any sense to me. I have this thing about logic making sense to me. When logic doesn't make sense to me, I start digging to find out why. In the case of this woman, I went to where they kept the kittens. And, I fell in love. I put my arm in, and two kittens latched on to my arm. I pulled them out, and I was holding these two fantastic calico cats. I handed one to Judy, and held the other in my hands. I was hooked.

When you know, you really know. I looked at my wife. She was beaming. We had been picked by the cats. I simply told the woman, we'll take these two. She went into her explanation of all the reasons why we shouldn't take the two kittens. I went into my iterative loop saying, "We'll take these two." I may have varied the accent, but I used this trick. I looked her dead in the eye with that look that says, I am going to get what I want here and there's no chance of you keeping these two cats from me. I bite the insides of my cheeks if I have to making sure I do not smile. This is my deadliest college professor look, aimed at freezing the hearts of 135 undergraduate students. It works on one elderly volunteer worker when I concentrate, and in this case I was heavily motivated holding a tiny ball of love.

The lady at the SPCA put the girls into a cardboard carrier and we drove the girl's home. Earlier, my wife had purchased a liter box and a bag of liter along with a bag of kitten chow. On the advice of the SPCA, we called a vet and made an appointment to have the girls checked out. We now were responsible for two (2) full color calico female cats approximately six weeks old. Training was about to begin.

We put the liter box out on the second floor, and then took the kittens out and put them in the liter box. That ended their formal training. We put food and water out for them and stood back as they disappeared and started exploring the house. Once they found the food and water, it was two days before we saw them on a regular basis again. We'd see one or the other scurrying from room to room, smelling everything.

That's when their personalities began to emerge. Holmes needed to investigate everything. Nothing escaped her attention, not a paper clip, nor a rubber band, a pen was cause for deep investigation. There was some real science produced when it came to walking across the coffee table which has a glass top. Watson was content to watch Holmes and let her figure everything out. Hence, they earned their names, Holmes investigated and figured out everything, like how to open a door, Watson was the one who rammed the door with her head until Holmes got it open.

Holmes was the star athlete. She once saw a moth flying in the house, and she sprang straight up and snatched it from the air about 7 feet off the ground. She spit it on the ground, and Watson promptly walked on it. The dog from across the street wandered over and came to the door. Holmes vanished. The dog was a chocolate lab and weighed perhaps 125 pounds. Watson, weighing in at 5 pounds and a little less than an appetizer for Old Duke, stood there and hissed at him through the door. Instead of scaring him, since Duke also lived with a cat, he walked back home feeling rejected.

And now, our training program was about to begin. We did not know that Watson came with an entire dynamic set of rules that changes according to her needs. Naturally, as with governments, ignorance of the rules was no excuse. Watson was not to be picked up, unless it suited her purposes. Her food was to be warmed to just the right temperature. That took a while to find, but with persistence, we discovered it. Various brands of cat food were eliminated, never to be brought into the house again. Fortunately, I had a piece of 1/2 inch plywood and a few 8 foot 2x4s left over, and we built a couple of platforms in front of windows for the girls to lie on in the sun. They were a big hit.

Then the issue of sex arose. If you close a door and stay on the same side as a cat, it will be OK. We kept the girls out of the basement and things went fine. But if you closed the door to the bedroom and they were outside and you were inside, the crying started and if you looked, there were paws under the door trying to pull the door open. Mass hysteria ensued. The girls just knew that wild and wonder cat things were going on in that room and they were being deprived. They were only partly right. We finally decided that we were just going to leave the door open.

Sex is not an unusual event among married couples no matter what people tell you. Wives demand it. Call it group maintenance, or mental health, or a mandatory requirement for the organism to survive, or tension reduction, or yabadabado, it's right up there with food and 64 oz (not 65) of water a day. And it had been a while due to scheduling mishaps for us. Now, we had an opportunity to really become human again, feel really good. We were both motivated, eager, ready, and well positioned. And then Watson jumped up onto the bed and walked over to where our heads were and looked right into Judy's face as if to say, "where do I go?" Simultaneously, Holmes walked up my left leg onto my left butt cheek onto my back all the way to my left shoulder and peered down into Judy's face, and then into mine. The two of us were laughing so hard that there was no chance for sex the rest of the night. On the other hand, we never had to close the doors again.

We had fourteen years of adventure with the two of them. We were never attacked by a vicious rubber band or an errant paper clip. Watson would periodically slip into the shower stall upstairs at 3:00 am and announce at the top of her lungs that she had killed a mastadon and that she would appreciate some help in carving it up so we could all eat for the rest of the year. We would levitate out of bed the first couple of times, then you get used to it. Then one day, she contracted stomach cancer, and she died after three months of chemotherapy after surgery.

Holmes also changed. She now patrolled the house, but she started talking to the animals at each window. Where she used to chase the squirrels and birds, now they seemed to meet up and talk. There is an entire family of cardinals that seem to come by and they know her, and she knows all of them. We're talking perhaps five birds. But the most unusual is the woodpecker.

If you live with a dog or a cat, you know that they can and will communicate with you. They will come and put a paw on your leg to get your attention, or in Holmes' case, Chatty Cathy will come around the corner at the top of her lungs and tell you that she wants you and to follow her, and she will chatter at you the whole way down the hall until she can show you what she wants you to see. This I have been dealing with for a long time now. But, there is a woodpecker who will fly to the window where I am sitting and typing right now, and if he wants Holmes, he will raise a racket until i go get her, or at least call for her. And when she comes, I swear, the two of them sit and chatter through the glass door. They are probably just antagonizing each other for all I know, telling each other that this is their territory. It's just that it has happened more than once.

Therefore, I am declaring today, November 12, 2006, Holmes' Day. All things being equal, I have been unbelievably lucky, the wife, the two cats. Holmes is really the exception and I know it. I know she won't last forever, but I am savoring what i have while I have her. And this is my attempt to share a tiny fraction of what I have had, with you.

Saturday, November 11, 2006

How To Pill A Cat

I am going to spend some time this weekend on all things cat. Tomorrow, instead of naming someone to You The Man for the week, I am declaring it Holmes' Day. I have cleared this with several well known pets, and they are OK with it.

I was going to write about why you should never, ever de-claw a cat or any other animal for that matter, and why I am so completely, opposed to it. Unalterably, unmovingly, unarguably, irretrievably, don't even bring it up, they ought to string up any vet that would do it opposed. But I am way too happy to go looking for a fight today. Euphoric.

So, I got some stuff together to give you sort of an instruction manual on how to pill a cat. I got most of this from my vet, a wonderful woman who has been with Holmes since we have been together.

1. Pick the cat up and cradle it in the crook of your left arm as if holding a baby. Position right forefinger and thumb on either side of the cat's mouth and gently apply pressure to cheeks while holding pill in right hand. As cat opens mouth pop pill into mouth. Allow cat to close mouth and swallow.

2. Retrieve pill from floor and the cat from behind sofa. Cradle the cat in left arm and repeat process.

3. Retrieve the cat from bedroom and throw soggy pill away.

4. Get new pill, cradle the cat in left arm holding the rear paws tightly with your left hand. Force the jaws open and jam the pill to the back of the cat's mouth. Remove finger and hold the cat's mouth shut for a count of ten.

5. Retrieve pill from hallway and the cat from the top of the wardrobe. Get spouse.

6. Kneel on floor with the cat wedged firmly between knees. Pin front and rear paws with your left hand. Get spouse to hold the cat's head firmly with one hand while forcing wooden ruler into cat's mouth. Drop pill down ruler and rub the cat's throat vigorously.

7. Retrieve the cat from curtain rail, get another pill. Make a mental note to repair curtains and buy a new ruler. Carefully sweep the shattered figurines and vases from the hearth and set aside for gluing at a later time.

8. Wrap the cat in a large towel and get spouse to lie on the cat with the cat's head just visible below armpit. Put pill in end of a drinking straw, force the cat's mouth open with a pencil and blow the pill down the cat's throat with the straw.

9. Call the emergency number for poison control and ensure that the medicine the cat is taking is not harmful to humans. If it isn't, drink a beer to take away the putrid taste, and apply hydrogen peroxide and a bandage to the gash on your spouses' arm.

10. Retrieve the cat from neighbor's shed. Get another pill. Open another beer. Place the cat in cupboard and close the door on its neck to leave its head showing. Force its mouth open with a desert spoon, and flick the pill down with an elastic band.

11. Get the tool box and put the door back on the cupboard. Drink the beer, then get the bourbon and the scotch. Pour a shot of each, drink up. Repeat. Make cold compress with ice and apply to face. Check for the date of your last tetanus shot, it's probably with your passport. Put some of the scotch on the ice compress and try to disinfect the cheek. Have another round. Throw shredded t shirt away and get another one from the bedroom.

12. Call the Fire Department to get the damn cat out of the tree across the street. Apologize to the neighbor who crashed into the fence trying to avoid hitting the cat. And take the last pill from the bottle.

13. Tie the little bastard's front and rear paws together with parachute cord and tie tightly to the center leg of the dining room table. Get the heavy leather work gloves. Push the pill down the cat's throat followed by a piece of steak, then two (2) pints of water to ash it all down.

14. Drink whatever is left. Ask spouse to drive you to the Emergency Room for stitches to fingers and forearms, and to have the remnants of the pill removed from your right eye. Ask spouse to order a new dining room table.

15. Call SPCA and ask to trade the mutant cat from hell for maybe a hamster or a rabbit.

Friday, November 10, 2006

Freedom Is Not Free

I had a picture of my father in his Army uniform from World War 2. My wife's father drove a Landing Craft in World War 2. When I was a kid, there was a guy who had fought for thirteen months in Viet Nam and was shot in the head by a sniper walking to a plane to go home. My next door neighbor just came home from Iraq.

Veterans returning from Viet Nam were not accorded this country's best and warmest welcome home. I trust that will never happen again. Today, the New York Stock Exchange will actually halt for a moment of silence during the trading day. They have been doing this since 1954. The Stock Exchange only stops once a year, and it does it only for the Veterans.

It doesn't matter if you are a Democrat or a Republican, a hawk or a dove. You have rights, and they exist, and are guaranteed by the soldier. We the citizen put the political structure in place that makes the decisions. It is the soldier that keeps us free.

I leave you with this thought. I used to work with a young lady named Sara, who lived in Iran. One night, she was picked up and imprisoned for four days. During her imprisonment, she was beaten with a rubber hose, and hung upside down for three hours. Her crime was having a transistor radio. This happened three years ago.

Thursday, November 09, 2006

I Am Always The Bad Guy, And That's OK I Know How To Do It

It's been a wild couple of days. We had an election, and much to my joy more people are going to the polls. Much to my sorrow, a few states think that marriage means a man and a woman. This issue is not over, it's just beginning, and I am only just starting on my new water campaign.

The conservative investor could be holding Google, Goldman Sachs, and Cisco Systems. Or you could be in cash. The economy is slowing. Or, you could hold an international basket of stocks, but unless you have unusual expertise, try using the Exchange Traded Fund that covers the entire International Area.

Now, for what's really been happening. I have mentioned my friend Margie before. Margie is the kind of friend I absolutely must have. I could not make it without her. She knows absolutely everything I don't know and more, and she will tell me when I am wrong. Without hesitation. The next time I am rich, I am taking her to Manolo's in New York for shoes and a handbag. And lunch. I'm keeping this clean.

She and I got together on Holmes' condition. Judy (that's my real wife of 991 years and yes, she knows about everyone) and I got Holmes to start eating and she gained a pound, but she didn't seem to be herself. Margie dug up the vet rules that they look for before they euthanize an animal. I do not take these things lightly. They are:

1: The animal soils itself repeatedly
2: The animal no longer seeks or responds to human company.
3: The animal can still move around without pain
4: The animal can still eat

Here is the article, courtesy of my wonderful friend Margie, and you can see I have paraphrased.

Neither of us had been asleep since the election. Holmes hit three of the four. Worse, she was so lethargic that she didn't want to do anything but sleep. she barely ate. Last night, we decided that her time had come. I knew what role I was going to play. I wrote about it before. There's an example in golf, which I don't play so you don't have to be a golfer to understand this. An amateur walks up to the ball in golf, figures out what they are going to do, and then does it. A professional in golf, figures out what they are going to do, walks up to the ball, and then does it. the professional makes a lot fewer mistakes than the amateur does. Therefore, I, the big tough guy, over the life of the cats, have evolved into the holder of the cat for whatever dastardly thing that needs to be done, and therefore also, in the cats eyes, The Bad Guy. I play this part well, and I am very good at it, although I do get scratched. According to the Bill Of Rights for Cats in this House, the 8th Right is A Cat has the right to defend herself. This is how I became the holder. Although I give myself at least four (4) injections a day, my wife gives the cat all of her injections. And pills. You can see it coming, can't you. My role.

Cats do not like getting needles. They consider it a violation of their personal territory and a declaration of war. They declare war upon the holder, who is widely viewed as the bad guy. Years of data collection have demonstrated to me that the reason for this is that they are looking at the holder when they get the needle, not the person giving the injection. This means that when she got an injection at the vets office, and I wasn't there, when she got home, she'd run in and see me and yell at me because she got a needle. I was that much of a bad guy. No need to order a black Stetson, I have been marked for life by Holmes, as the bad guy, until this morning.

We went to the vets. I had a heavy heart because this was the morning. Judy had spent the entire night trying to feed Holmes a little at a time. That's what she had eaten, a tiny bit at a time. Early this morning, Holmes had a small bit of energy, trying to hide. It didn't last long. We got her to the vets, and then the vet came in. We explained the situation to her, and then we were astonished. Here's is where we discovered the weight gain. We found out that there hadn't been a lot of tissue damage from the kidney loss, that a lot of the lethargy had come from the fluid build up that happens when cats get fluids. Suddenly, my cat, the one I had come to put down was showing a lot of backbone. The vet was explaining that she was off the charts when it comes to age, and to think in terms of 100 ++. With that, Holmes jumped off the table and raced to her carrier. Mouths falling open. This is not the behavior of a cat on her last legs. And I am talking about trying to make sure I don't rob her of her dignity.

It's time for fluids, and vitamins, and antibiotics, and a pill that settles her stomach and helps her to eat. All goes well until the pill. Cats hate to have a pill give to them. Judy pins Holmes down on the table. I hold her paws so she can't rip the tech's face off (remember, we're talking about a 100++ year old cat on her last legs with bad kidneys and a dying thyroid here) and the tech grabs her face and prys her mouth open to put the pill in, then closes her mouth and holds it shut. Only took three people. Ooooops, a pill goes arching across the room into the corner. Three times. We took Holmes home laughing hysterically. I would be working really hard not to feeling like a rat Nazi bastard except we have to try to pill her tonight. And, there's only two of us to try to pill a 5 pound cat. It's time for kung fu to supplement my tai chi, I don't have the time to worry about making mistakes now. Holmes has appointments for several months now. According to the vet, she's not an issue anymore. But, the vet does recommend we sit down and have a heart to heart with her about these matters. Yeah, maybe next week, today, we're all sleeping.

I'll be back to normal whenever I wake up.

Tuesday, November 07, 2006

Monday, November 06, 2006

Things Are A Little Weird Here

I need to write tonight because there is an election tomorrow. I have never missed an election since I hit the age where I could legally vote. I used to go to the polls with my mother, and she let me pull the lever on her choices, as she explained that voting was her responsibility as a citizen. When there was an election coming, we would discuss election issues at the dinner table for months before the election, before the primaries. Now, I will admit, I got my parents point of view. Didn't last long.

My father had a sister who lived in New York City. She was married to a man who sold furniture in a department store. They were down visiting at a time when New York City was not doing well. The citizens of New York felt that they deserved a break on their Federal taxes, because it cost so much to live in New York. Certainly, the citizens of New York weren't getting back all the money they were putting into the Federal government. I was now a taxpayer and i felt like I ought to have something to say about that, so I did. I asked, "Do you get defended by the military like the rest of us? Do you get food trucked to you on the Interstate Highway System? You are serviced by three airports, all staffed by Federal Air Traffic Controllers. What do you want to give up?" That's when the screaming started. My parent's generation had the attitude that they didn't have to be right, they were our elders, and were to be respected. I am not good at respecting nonsense. This doesn't make me perfect, trust me, my wife has a list you wouldn't believe. But when I'm wrong, i wave the flag early so we can move on. BTW, they are still angry at me in New York, the ones that are still alive. I am not a nice person, you got it from me first. It's better that way, trust me on this. President Ford handled it much better than I did.

So what's the moral to this Election Eve Story? Turn off the TV, and stop listening to the infinite analysis. The War, The Economy, Immigration are probably the big three issues in this election. Where you sit and your situation determine the weight of these issues to you. Please think for yourself, please make that a habit from now on, decide what is best for you, and look at the candidates. Vote for the one that most closely represents your thinking. There isn't going to be a good match.

How are we going to get a better country? We need to let the local representatives from both parties know how unhappy we are with both the people they are running and the campaigns they are waging. Then we need to get our friends to do the same things. I am really fortunate in that I live in a small town so close to the Nation's Capitol. I know really wonderful Democrats and Republicans. People who really care about the country, and feel that they have a better way to run it. The brains of these outfits really want to do good, but they are not electable. Therein lies the problem, and it is us. American men no longer read books and American women read fiction. We get our information from places like TV and the computer. if you read everything I am writing, you are in the extreme minority. And thank you very much. Clearly my blog is not the answer. But, the answer is out there.

Last, my cat Holmes. Holmes is 18, and her kidneys are failing along with her thyroid. We simply don't tell her. When she would get a bladder infection, we would fight it with an antibiotic. Her stomach would be upset, and we'd get some Tums into her, and she'd start eating. It's been four days now, and she isn't eating or drinking. We got her into the vet today, and she got fluids, vitamins in the fluids, antibiotics, and I started breathing again.

She ate a tiny amount earlier today, but not enough to make a difference. At her heaviest, she weighed 11 pounds. Her average weight was 7 pounds. Today, she weighed 4 pounds. Holmes still gets up, and walks around. she still talks to the animals outside, and she still has the drive to live. When that is gone, I will be time. Among the rights that she has is the right to die with dignity. I guarantee you she will be in my arms, and not alone when the time comes, no matter what.

So, as this post clearly demonstrates, my publishing is not exactly predictable. I apologize for that, but it needs to be a little wierd around here for a while. Thank you.

Sunday, November 05, 2006

CMHL and Crankster, You The Man

This was the week when Crankster and CMHL outdid themselves. Weren't we the lucky ones. One stood up for her kids to see her as a shining role model of what they can be. She did it to represent people who had survived cancer. And she did it sick and without complaint.

Crankster is merely drawing attention to a lot of things that need looking at, some with humor, and some with seriousness and earnestness. I offer you The Men this week, and Beethoven's Fifth.

Conducted by Karajan and recorded in 1966. Feel yourself soar? Karajan is argued to have been the greatest conductor ever. That's why it's so nice to see him at work.

Fur Elise is also by Beethoven. You've probably heard the first minute before.

I am nursing a really sick cat, so i won't hang around much more, except to say, remember to vote. And if you have kids, take 'em with you. Teach them that voting is a responsibility of being a citizen. Be a role model, like the two people we have here. And try to have a good week!

Some Really Good Stuff Out There

There are basically two ways to learn things in life. You go out and do things, or you read about people's experiences. When we do things our self, we ought to put a lot more weight into what we learned because we were there and saw what happened. This kind of evidence, empirical evidence, is the hardest to get, because to really be fair, you have to know what you're doing to play today. On the other hand, it never hurts to try.

I am not a professional writer. I am pretty sure that this surprises no one. Another non-professional writer is Glamourpuss who is on the Blogroll to your right. She is quite adept at both Existential and Zen Philosophy as well as Pole Dancing. You get to see Puss comment here periodically, and often down at the Laff-O-Rama that Mist runs. And for those of you not in the know, when Mist runs away with Bruce Willis for one of those rejuvenating weekends, she goes to Chez Glamour where Bruce won't be recognized. Puss relocates to Leeds Castle, she' such a dear. You really have to read these blogs daily to be in the know, you know.

Well, I got Rachel From North London from Puss. As we have 9/11, the British have 7/7. Rachel was on a subway the morning of the terrorist bombings in London. A bomb went off 7 feet behind her that killed 26 and maimed 340 in that particular blast. I am paraphrasing her profile. She managed to walk away from this disaster, and started writing about it. She is currently writing about the U.S. mid-term elections. She has also written about pole dancing, and a huge variety of other subjects. Did I mention that she is a professional writer? I read her every day too.

Which brings me to the Crankster. I know I have mentioned him before, but this week he has outdone himself. Missing his deadly serious dissertation on douchitudinously explained behavior is to be missed at your own peril. Rarely is such creativity laid naked to the light of day as this author has done here. It has all of the finishing touches, like trimming the crust off the bread on your cucumber sandwiches for high tea. I could go through every post Crankster did last week, but I spent two days thinking about this one that he has written about a guy he knows who is now in jail for murder. This is the second post The Crankster has written about him. In fairly short order we have seen the confusion over how this could be the same guy that he knew, the fear he felt when the guy committed the second murder and escaped in the neighborhood, the confusion over what happened to cause this guy to go so wrong, and the realization that the society he lives in had changed radically, and that his friend hadn't been able to change with it. How one person can cover so much ground, so clearly in the ever changing interplay of man and society is astonishing to me. Graduate students and researchers try to break out the issues to study that are offered up with a precision that makes me want so much more. Would you all please go over to the Crankster's blog and encourage him to write. He needs to publish. And make sure he's drinking plenty of water. Cindy, show him your Wax Poetica stuff. See, this is what I'm good at.

And then there's CMHL and this one post. I have been reading CMHL's blog for a year. I was her 1000th visitor or 10,000 or something like that. I'm not going to go through what's happened to her for the last year, you can read her blog for that. If it had been me, I wouldn't have been in a 5K. CMHL makes me and Rocky look like wimps. Not that I have an opinion, mind you. I wouldn't mind growing to be like her, but the hair is such a problem for me.

And most important, if you go to Rebecca's blog, she has the pictures up from her wedding in the Bahammas! Stop by, and say hi! Stay tuned.

Saturday, November 04, 2006

I Found Some Advice To Share

On November 3, 1983, Ronald Reagan signed a bill declaring November as National Diabetes Month. If you need or want information on diabetes Dlife is an excellent place to start. Have I mentioned yet that I am an insulin dependent diabetic? A huge amount of the testing and research these last few weeks has been directly related to the diabetes. I had little choice in the matter, both of the families I come from are rife with diabetes, so genetically the issue was when.

Diabetes is a disease where the pancreas, an organ in your body, stops putting out enough high quality insulin. Insulin is the chemical that your body uses to break down food into the usable products that your body uses, such as proteins, and energy. etc. Excess glucose, think sugar, are stored in your system as fats. Medical thinking used to be that fat was a store of energy in a human. Fairly recently, they have changed their thinking, and they now see it as more of a separate organs with it's own chemistry, or endocrine system. Trying to keep things simple here. Now, diabetes gets really complicated.

In the old days, before 1921, the pancreas didn't put out enough insulin, or it wasn't a high enough quality, and the diabetic ate food, and nothing happened. The food passed through the system, wasn't digested, the diabetic lost weight at a fantastic rate, was thirsty all the time, drank water, and ran to the bathroom, and evacuated it just as fast. They died in a couple of weeks. In 1921, the biochemistry masters synthesized insulin for the first time, and it was safe for humans to take. People who used to die were now spared. People like me have a chance.

When you're first diagnosed, if you're a Type 2 (Type 1 diabetics are typically kids. They are my heroes. They deal with this monkey, and adapt, and live productive lives, and contribute to society and make a lot less noise than I am now) they give you pills that either make you less resistant to the insulin your body is producing, or a different pill that may attempt to stimulate the production of more insulin by your pancreas. You also get your first meter. You must embrace and eventually bond with your meter, it is the source of all information worth knowing. You want your blood glucose to be between 90 and 120 in the morning when you wake up. That's know as a fasting blood sugar. You didn't eat while you were asleep for the last 8 hours. They may have you check your glucose two hours after you eat, and you should be within 40 points of normal, meaning 160. What counts is the average, not any single reading.

I could write forever on this, but I have something new. Something I really didn't know. What this week has been all about to me. When you actually start injecting yourself with insulin, you start putting on weight at a remarkable rate. Lots of people don't believe the rate at which this happens, except the doctors, and particularly the doctors who are also diabetic. In the year I have been on the needle, I put on almost 60 pounds. I have simultaneous reduced my food intake cutting the carbs in half. Here's what medicine has to offer. Cut your food intake and exercise more. I work out 5 days a week, three doing tai chi, two on a tread mill and weight machines for an hour and a half. My physical therapist thought I should have been losing weight. So did two doctors. Before you say it, I don't have to lie to anyone. Who would I be kidding other than myself.

I have a really good friend named Margie, and she is what's known as pre-diabetic. So she and I have been writing. She sent me an article about Bayetta, gila monster spit, which was a diabetic medication that was helping diabetics lose weight. I called my doctor as I read the e mail. Couldn't do it. Only works before you start insulin. Once you've started, you can't use it. I booked an appointment with the doc. A week later, it took us less than two minutes to be in a screaming fight. Don't feel too bad for my doc, he was the starting left tackle on the 1963 Notre Dame National Championship Football Team. He's always worried that he scared me, and I always worry that I scared him. We have a great relationship. He made an appointment with a specialist he knew to talk about morbid obesity. I had to wait until the following Thursday to find out what the next step was going to be, and I was still gaining weight. I was beyond uncomfortable. I was having real trouble breathing.

Then, last Monday I ran out of diet soda. I drink Diet Coke with almost everything, unless I'm drinking coffee. I took my morning pills with water, and I finished the glass. While i was drinking my coffee, and writing The Morning Meeting, I somehow drank another glass of water. Didn't think about it. I went to the john, and headed out to Physical Therapy. I got onto the treadmill, and felt better. Better than I had in weeks. I asked my PT about water in my diet. He just looked at me and said, "You have to have water in your diet. You need to drink at least 64 oz of water a day." Sounded a little strange, I asked, "Why 64 oz and not 65 oz?" No response. He repeated at least three more times, that everyone should drink at least 64 oz. of water a day. At the time, I didn't know anyone who did, but I started. At tai chi, I was told that I needed to drink water all day long and to stay hydrated. This was news to me, and the point of this piece.

When I got to the doctor who specialized in morbid obesity, he had a lot to say. And I'll write a lot about it. I was down 7 pounds since Monday, and this was Thursday and all I had changes was I was drinking water. The diet doc says that you have to drink water every day. He says that it isn't completely understood why, other than cleaning out the system, and that there isn't a precise measurement, but that 64 oz, or 65 is probably fine. If you get hungry, drink a glass of water instead, because people tend to confuse hunger and thirst. I liked 64 because it's the square of 8, or 8 eight oz. glasses. That was Margie's idea, and I always go with Margie.

All of this is so you too can now know that you really do need to drink water every day. I am walking proof of it. And I saw this piece of 'advice' and liked it, so I'm also sharing it with you.

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Thursday, November 02, 2006

Not To Worry I'll Be Right Back

I called this meeting to tell you that I have to do some testing Thursday and Friday and I may not get posts out. And please, if you live in the United States, democracy depends upon an educated population. Please be part of one. It's actually really important. I'll be back shortly! Drink the coffee, and have a snack while I'm gone, please. And do talk among yourselves.

Wednesday, November 01, 2006

Ignorance and Stupidity Continued

Clearly, I wasn't clear enough. For those of you who pray for gridlock in the upcoming two years, the Great State of Maryland has a Democratically Controlled Legislature and a Republican Governor who have been at each other's throats for the last four years. This is the Democratic Legislature that decided that they could dictate to Walmart a minimum percentage of its revenues on health care for its workers. Unfortunately for the Legislature, we don't call that legal. Specifically, the Supreme Court didn't think it was legal. Really, I'm not making this up as I go along, I'm not that good. This is the same Democratic Legislature that decided to roll back prices in Baltimore last summer for electricity.

I own stock in constellation Energy. I bought it in anticipation of Florida Power and Light (FPL) buying them because they are a small, profitable utility servicing the City of Baltimore, and additionally, they have a really neat merchant operation that made them very attractive to a larger operator. Sure enough, FPL makes a winning bid. I sit back and smile. I'll collect the dividends while I wait for the deal to close. In steps the Legislature. Why? Because there's an election in November and the Governor is up for re-election. Now things get a little dicey here. The Legislature is only rolling prices back in Baltimore where 40% of the State lives, the poorest 40%. If you win in Baltimore, you can carry any of the other 23 counties and win the election state-wide. So, electric prices are not being rolled back anywhere else. It's easy, Constellation isn't even my electric company. I feel so loyal to the Democrats.

My County Executive speaks out! He is also running for Governor. He explains why it is so important to lower the prices for the people of Baltimore. My electric prices have doubled, why isn't it important for me to have lower electric prices too? And while all of you are at it, natural gas prices have dropped from $15 a therm (thousand btu's) to $5. Why haven't my gas heat prices dropped at all? I asked these questions during the primarys. Can you join me in saying fuck you Democrats and Republicans. Either order will do.

Are you getting the idea that I don't like either side yet? I will close with this.

You may have heard of John Kerry. There's this story about him shooting his mouth off,2933,226584,00.html about the troops, and education, and Iraq. I guess it shows he really didn't understand to begin with. About the volunteer army, and perhaps everything else. And please, don't associate me with Hilary Clinton.

What really pisses me off is that sitting not more than 60 feet away from me is a man named Jakob Lee. He's a real success story. He came from China when he was 14. He got a degree in Computer Science from the University of Maryland. During the downturn, he joined the Air Force when there was no work. He continued in school, earning a Masters Degree in Computer Science. He couldn't become an officer in the Air force because he is from China. But, he was certainly good enough to go to Bagdad. So, as Jakob's next door neighbor, and as always, speaking for myself, I'd like to tell John Kerry to go fuck himself.

Last, at the rate we are going, I think I am going to ask people to simply write in a candidate for Senator in their state, regardless of what state they are in. I am writing CMHL in as my choice for Senator, and I think you should too. If she could represent 2/3 of the States in the country, maybe we'd make some real progress. And we can cut out both parties and their crap in a hurry.