Off The Record

Overheard in a bar during a ~40th high school reunion:

"I carried the 'football' [nuclear codes] for President Reagan. I was part of the Iranian hostage rescue effort - did you know there was a second team involved?"

"I keep a photo of President Reagan on the wall at home."

"Did you know he approved the invasion of Grenada because he asked himself what would John Wayne do?"

"I saw him in Houston in 1984 and he remembered me as the young kid he talked with at the small airport gathering in 1980. He's smarter than people gave him credit for."

"I still look young because I graduated from high school when I was six and Vanderbilt when I was twelve. Haha."

"My husband here is Navaho, from Gallup, New Mexico. After our white wedding we had an Indian wedding where I had to slaughter and cut apart a sheep to prove I knew how to feed our family. If I cut myself with the knife during the ceremony the wedding was off. He had to cut down a tree and build a lean-to. We have an acre on the reservation we plan to retire to."

"When Nixon was visiting this area, my father's plumbing business partner was driving a load of dynamite down the same two-lane road as the presidential motorcade. He wondered why men in suits were looking under culverts as he was heading to his demolition job. He'd be accused of terrorism these days even if he was a patriotic American on his way to doing a hard day's work."

"The newspaper called my victory a close win even though I had 61 percent of the vote."

"You're better-looking in person than your facebook photos."

"Thanks so much for contributing to the church organ fund in my daddy's name. That was sweet of you."

"I retired after 34 years of teaching 8th grade math. I join your mother and other retirees for the monthly get-togethers now."

"You're young enough to be my son!"

"You were at Camp Pendleton, too? Did you ride out in an LSD until everyone was seasick and then storm I-5 in winter?"

"You used to work in Utah? I'm thinking about moving to Salt Lake City. Are the Mormons very cliqueish?"

"Channel 11 is much more friendly to my husband so he's willing to meet them for interviews about what he's doing for the state. Reducing the budget will be one of his main focuses this term."

"I used to have to hold the antenna up when my father wanted to watch Channel 19 to get the local news."

"Are you the car dealer?"

"I know your father. He used to have an account at my bank. Does he still have that bungalow his grandparents built in Florida in the 1950s?"

"Yes, I'm still involved in Christmas tree sales. But I've got the pine pollen problem now. I drive the truck to pick up the trees and drop 'em off. I open the rear door and step back to let the rest of the Optimists unload 'em at the tree lot."

"Look! There's you and your wife on television wishing us a happy holiday."

"Yep, I can't get away from that, can I?"

"He normally received about 14,500 votes in the previous three elections but only about 12,500 at the last election. I got those 2,000 votes and they wanted to call it close!"

"My younger sister was the drum major in your class."

"My husband and I were at UT at the same time but we didn't meet until years later, after I was married."

"Your sister was my counselor at church camp in 1976. That's where my wife and I met two years earlier."

"When we were little kids I used to call her the Big Boop because she had a big behind. What was that, almost 50 years ago?"

"Shut up and get up on the floor and dance with me."

"I can't for very long. My arthritis is acting up."

"This is my ex-husband. Darling, do you still think I'm the best-looking one in here?"

"Well...maybe."

"Guess that's why you're my ex."

Thanks to Demetrice and Tony for setting up the arrangements, Ashley for her quick, efficient service at the Shack BBQ and Justin Michaels for the one-man band music.

The Week For Forgetting

In weeklong meditation and in the midst of familiar sights and sounds the conversations reaffirm the past like dreams recalled fondly.

Almost as if commas periods and spaces losetheirsignificance

Refrains.

Chorus.

Codas.

The same points assigned to goals and touchdowns.

As an adult I am left to choose which subcultural myths and legends to pass on magically and mystically.

Which ones to create from a blender of tales swirled together.

Miracles.

Wonders.

Heroes.

After all, what is the truth that makes sense to youth growing up out of pure ignorance?

Must life be bigger than life just because a child wants to know more than we do?

How do we keep traditions and let our children learn the secrets behind myths that contain mistakes that kicked off a subculture's perpetual traditiontelling?

Ask one to be one?

Or be happy in our ignornce (trusting in one's faith)?

I have no children so in my meditation I stay, not required to reveal myths or keep the flame of faith alive.

That is what the holiday meditation has taught me this year: not to interfere with happiness of others, no matter what they believe or talk about, because they have found the thought set based on a unique state of energy mix that works best for their environmental conditions.

May I find the humbleness to keep quiet in 2011 and focus on my lifelong journey toward death in a healthier body, reducing my consumption of food I don't need and goods I don't want.

I have communicated to anonymous readers the filtered thoughts that've found their way onto "paper" like this through the years.

The older I get, the more frequent does life break down into its component parts to me. Let the world have its myths, legends, religions, literary/sports heroes...

In a dream or vision, I saw us as our states of energy landing on an unidentifiable planetoid leaving our legacy in the form of a stowaway bacterial lifeform that survived after we perished, representing us to other lifeforms passing by on the way to what we imagine is another universe [thousands or millions of years later than today?].

Hardly a high-volume, marketable product, is it?

Now you know why I seek to silence my voice in the future.

There is nothing more I can add to our multicultural global socioeconomopolitical entity we call our species in this solar system.

I wanted more knowledge about what will become of us and got what I asked for. Early happy Christmas to me, huh?

In this season when we find our own way to celebrate the renewal of life as seen from the Northern Hemisphere, I bid you good day.

My time with you here has come to a close. The Committee of 7.5 is looking for a new spokesperson, if you're interested in an impossible job to perform (it comes with no description, no pay, no perks/bonuses and very picky bosses to satisfy (as well as seven billion customers with seven billion different needs!) but it's a lot of fun as long as you want to keep the job).

A 'Naut Out On The Town

I read that 91 percent of Americans are not offended by the phrase, "Mery Christmas."

The windowed reflection of a white-painted light bulb excites the rods and cones in my eyes, my central nervous system registering the chain of cause-and-effect events.

Coloured LEDs divert my attention to their combined conical shaping.

This is the wintry end of the year holiday timeframe I remember here in space.

I wanted to be called someting cool like 'Naut Rider or Dread 'Naut but the legal team back on Earth told me those names had copyright and trademark histories to contend with.

Instead, I'm a 'naut without a name.

I grow my own miniature, energy-packed vegetables. Protein packs are mixed and matched to my specific needs by the robonutritionist with which (not whom?) I converse through the train-of-thought app I switch on and off at will.

I thought that maintaining these giant soda-can habitat modules would give me cabin fever but the solar glider I built from old parts gives me the relaxing off-duty fun I used to have when living in the high-rise subbasement family prison farm with my incarcerated parents.

Today is one of the holidays of my varied ancestors.

Today I pray for Stella as she deals with Christmas without several recently-deceased family members; my hometown church's Scoutmaster, whose home burnt down during a recent ice/snow storm; those who spend Christmas in prison; the nine percent who are offended by a family-friendly commercialised holiday celebration around winter solstice.

At this time of year, while replacing carbon dioxide filtering systems before the next set of space hotel guests arrives, I promise myself no regrets, no envy and no cynicism as gifts of promise and hope to myself, replacing them with more happiness.

On Meditation

Sitting here is humbling. To be alive at the same time as about seven billion members of our species is all any of us can be.

Fruitarians, carnivores and omnivores converting states of energy.

Chemical bonds. Disconnected theories of everything.

Seven billion blind trying to describe the elephant in the living room.

Sightless and yet having the gift of sight.

Surfing the crests down to the troughs and over the boughs while tying bows of infinite loops on ships' bows.

Spare time to change the spare tyre.

Independent third parties.

Furniture polish.

Kimonos over cowboy boots.

TransSiberian Chinese highspeed rails.

Genuine high quality Cuban cigars.

If birds are free to fly 'round the world, why aren't we?

Happy that the Amis Mill Eatery will have a wonderful New Year's Eve and New Year's Day celebration; that Arby's serves roasted rather than fried beef; that Food City is still a hometown favourite; that integrity is still an important concept to young people; that dreams are enigmas sometimes.

Fortunate that one can enjoy simple pleasures without the need for reading subtle body language or cynic tones clouding the moment.

Overcoming the predator-prey dilemma to get us out of the materialistic envy cycle and on to the next really, really great thing.

One planet at a time.

[Starting with ours, of course.]

Are you committed to victory for all of us? You are now.

...as waters cover the sea

While I meditate, I enjoy the gift of service that others freely, joyously, unselfishly share with me this time of year:

Patricia Rhoton, Pastor White, Afton Stewart, Rebecca George, Rex Ennis, David White, Andrea White, Madison Price, Bill Phillips, Earline Price, William Phillips, Mary Ellen Elkins, Sarah Klepper LeRoy, Tammy Lyons, Terry George, Chad Hill, Chancel Choir, St. Andrew's Choir, Higher Sounds Handbells, ushers and Sue Livesay.

The Joy Gift Service of Nine Lessons and Carols.

Flutes like angels singing in the balcony. Violin and piano duet like a heavenly stream or waterfall. Rearranged hymns. Solos that go so low and so high, I'm flushed with envy.

Raising money for the Christmas Joy Offering, 50 percent which goes to the Presbyterian Board of Pensions and 50 percent which goes to the Presbyterian racial ethnic schools and colleges (per the General Assembly Mission Council handout).

Teaching traditions.

Christmas versus/and other family-based holidays.

Sometimes, caught up in the noise and haste of modern life, I forget that family and friends are all that matters.

That's why these moments of meditation are important.

Otherwise, I'd get lost in the international games we play, that move millions and billions around like faceless chips on a gambling table.

We can still do that, but let's get to know each other before we take risks with our neighbours' lives.

Let us pray...

2 spoons & 1 fork

If a black cat crosses your path and you don't know it, is it still bad luck?

Does anybody remember Frank O'Rourke?

What do a toilet handle and cat food have in common?

Thanks to: Debra and other friendly faces at VBC; Gully's team of Santa's elves; Andrea P at Cuts By Us; Amp at Red Robin; Petsmart; Jon at Rave; all the workers at Madison Square Mall, Hobby Lobby, Hibbett's, and the stores in the old Hills shopping center; the scared cashier at Walmart gas station; U.S. Special Forces; studious college students, friends and family.

Time to meditate offline for a few days.

Much to consider...

litter stock ack

Are you a remake or a sequel?

Don't all of us have that question to answer?

Are we following in our parents' footsteps or creating a new path?

My thought set leans against others constantly, absorbing through porous contacts the thoughts and actions of those around me.

Sometimes I'm fully aware of why I do what I do that seems [to be] in sync with others, and sometimes I'm barely aware why I act out a sequence of events that I would not normally perform if I was away from the mainstream.

To put myself out there all the time, loving everyone without qualification, no limits, like there is no next moment, seeing all they want me and don't want me to see, puts off some people.

It's like a river running into a boulder or bend in the landscape, flowing along anyway, changing course to fit the immovable channel contour presented to it.

There's more I want to say but I can't.

I've encountered a dam.

Now what do I do next?

There's a lot of land that's going to be flooded behind the dam.  I know that much.

Go with the flow, be the flow, pull others along with you.

Pile up behind obstacles.

And then...?

Dark, still waters circulating around, leaving sediment, feeding new organisms, the potential of potential energy finding its potential.

The circle of life, sequels and remakes, alloneandnone.

Monica in Florida, John in Rhode Island and me here - is that the result of our friendship together many years ago?  Are there vectors and traced rays and concentric circles radiating out from the pebbles we threw?

What if we know what we have before it is gone?

I don't see storylines like a young person sees for the very first time, although I try to see the world with childlike wonder.

Is that wisdom?

I forget.

Does seeing Venus in the daytime make me anything other than an object that can recall on a firsthand basis seeing Venus in the daytime?

Should my only guiding thought be "if you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all"?

A doo-boppa doo-wop, a biddy bang bong.

Another riff on words in a blog.

That's all this ever was and ever will be.

What life is ultimately all about.

Easy to say, harder to explain: everything goes in a circle, reality is only seven letters.

We learned the words when we were just kids: "Row, row, row your boat...life is but a dream."

Glitter

Cardstock

Stack

My Grain Headache - Cutting A Deal

Have you ever shot an arrow from an orbiting space platform?

You see, my marketing staff is busy compiling all the activities you can, you shouldn't, you must and you can't do while working/playing in a space hotel.

After all, it won't be long before dozens and then hundreds of people will enjoy one another's company in the spartan luxury high in the Earth's atmosphere.

Including, of course, support staff.

Now, as most of you know who've worked in the support industry, there's downtime to consider.

Some support staff will fly with their guests while others will stay onboard to maintain continuity and fix stuff that inevitably breaks.

So, with that in mind, my marketing staff wants to define leisure activities that'll appeal to people in between periods of work and sleep.

Of course, we're using all the latest tech-savvy tools to figure out what we need to design and test over the next few years.

We'll keep you posted.

Dancing and Romancing

 Christabel and the Jons Christmas Show

featuring the Actors Co-op!  Including Stephen M. Dupree, Amy Leigh Hubbard and Kimberly Pettigrew.

At Lowe Mill (where else?)

 Christa DeCicco, Seth Hopper, Jon Whitlock and Vince Ilagan brought a little bit of holiday cheer to the cheering crowd in the Flying Monkey Theatre in Huntsville, Alabama, earlier this evening.

Described as "all Christmas music, staged like 'Prairie Home Companion' or an old-time television holiday special," the band and the band of actors banded together to bandy back and forth.

Letters to Santa read from large scrolls.

Classic Christmas tunes.

All we needed was a little snow.

Voila!  Foam snowballs flew across the dance floor as couples spun around like swingin' skaters on a frozen pond.

Favorite lyrics:

"Biscuits and gravy, mashed potatoes,
Put some pepper on those fried green tomatoes;
I haven't seen you in ages."

Memorable sights: a father dancing with his newborn infant, Santa (Stephen) in a duet of "Baby, It's Cold Outside" with Christa, Seth playing muted trumpet, hopping couples waltzing in 6/8 time, Jon and Vince getting their solos; Amy and Kimberly singing backup.

Thanks to tonight's organisers; ticket taker; food sales; lighting/sound technician; Bushmills flask; Fred Bread; a late thanks to Shrestha at Surin.

Like the performers tonight, I can't wait to get back to Tennessee.  Hope Christa gets another guitar tuner and lipstick soon...and that she can always find a way to make herself happy (and/or make music).

Flue with Flu

Friends tell me you can't change human nature so why I am observing and commenting on our activities as if they're correctable, my friends can't say.

A cat is a cat.

A living thing is a living thing.

Instead, my friends want me to focus on marketable, profitable stuff with which they can work their sales magic.

All for what?

So Jay Leno can treat women like whores and Pat Sajak can stare at his contestants' breasts?

Maybe today I shouldn't observe our culture, ignoring subtle hints about impeachable futures and false wargame threats, when I am in a mood for the quiet absence of cultural stimuli, away from barking dogs, billboards and mechanistic sounds (i.e., a constrictive headache narrows my view).

I forget many a day what the instant gratification of cultural interaction does to one's thought sets floating in a neurochemical bath of glandular animal magnetism.

To have one's inner eye pointed toward a far-away future is not nearly as exciting as living in the moment.

What if my friends are right and one moment is the same as another except for symbol set members?

Everyone has a valid opinion that can oppose the facts.

Am I right about the transformation of our species over the next thousand years or are my friends right and our civilisation is going to collapse in on itself as it always has, the survivors picking up the pieces and making the same mistakes again but in a new language, using new symbology/vocabulary to justify their version of the truth?

Either way, getting some members of our species off this planet is of prime importance.

The cheaper the method of achieving escape velocity, the more resources we have for finding/founding a new home.

I can spend my time here analysing the story not being told by the words and actions of "judges" on an a capella contest (of course, you know, as well as the show's producers and judges, that U.S. Southerners are statistically more likely to win these types of U.S.-based shows) or I can keep looking up at the big picture.

I choose the latter.

Time, once again, to make our space adventures more attractive, more seductive (yes, that means to the brain) and less pedestrian than, but still familiar to, our life on the home planet.

If our species is going to be the same, let's give ourselves more room to play at being responsible for our future together!

Remember that epic novel I was working on with its universal language/code? Turns out, as I may have told some of you, it is not directly translatable into our written/spoken languages. It can be described, though, like an exchange of states of energy in chemical/physical terms.

Are you willing to deprogram yourself and shed your hereditary cultural self in order to move into the realm of "states of energy" speak...don't get too excited just yet. Food for thought for now.

The rest of us are still getting excited about short jaunts into the outer reaches of Earth's natural attraction. After your ride into space, don't forget to stop in the gift shop and take home some souvenirs that'll be valuable memorabilia to future generations!

It's good to retrace the outline of my sole reason for being here even if the universe waits for no one to discover and reveal its many wonders.

Conspiracists in an uproar!

In more news "leaked" for your contemplative pleasure, the world governments admitted they have been tracking all their citizens for years now, using both external GPS tracking devices (including GPS units for cars, running, biking, mobile phones, etc.) and organic GPS units using plasma antennas implanted in citizens while they were sleeping.

Antigovernment activists tore down all the mobile phone towers today and tomorrow they plan to launch private rockets to take down all satellites orbiting Earth.

The crew of the ISS was put on 24-hour alert.

Thank goodness, the robots on Mars, satellites circling other planets and platforms exploring the solar system (but actually parked in space for this very scenario) are unreachable by average citizens, organized or not.

Scientists are trying to determine if the hidden government that runs our species (a subordinate subcommittee secretly commissioned but not authorised by the Committee of 7.5) can still operate a group of seven billion people without knowing their precise whereabouts.

Meanwhile, sales of anti-GPS signal suits have put the Kinect, Black Ops and other personal consumables into the low sales category by comparison.

Our network of amateur journalists on the scene will bring more exciting news to you as it happens.

Now you know why there is a group opposed to circumcision at birth - they know it is a cover to implant tracking devices that also detect when males are attempting to illegally reproduce (apparently, a variation in the GPS signal can show whether condoms are being used or a vasectomy was performed in the past; sorry, eunuchs, you're being tracked, too).

Our governments will not rest until all members of our species are under safe control for their secure future.

We'll let you know when more documents reveal where your taxes are being spent to aid in your pursuit of happiness!

Taco Bell and Soap Operas

I wish I had...

I am thankful for the body I have but wish I had developed better memorisation habits earlier in my life.

I wish I could thank a person I no longer remember.  Sometime, a while back, I recall a person comparing fastfood chains to soap operas, in that, on a regular basis, you create a new "menu" item [storyline] with a limited set of ingredients [actors] to keep customers coming back.

Have I ever eaten the evil twin of a taco, though?

What burrito has betrayed its brother by cheating on my nachos?

= = = = =

On a separate but repetitive note, are we learning the true lesson from the exposed inner workings of the U.S. government, including the wikiworks and the Nixon tapes?

That is, are we aware that public figures have private thoughts they are willing to share with other public figures privately?

I am reminded of Milan Kundera and some of his observations on eavesdropping and such - if we do not allow each other to express thoughts and ideas, either ours or those of others we pick up along the way, verbally, in writing, in whatever way we can, to ourselves and to others, then we set up society for unhappy futures, unable to flush out caustic, contentious cynicism through constant conversation.

Thanks to the folks at the courthouse who make paying annual property tax a smooth, painless process; Jalissa T at Steak-Out; the workers behind the scenes at CCI, but especially Shelley and Dr. Mathews; the growers, harvesters and distributors of the cut oatmeal I eat every day; Dr. Selkin for giving me the view to the stars without the aid of prescription eyeglasses so I could watch meteors and Venus in the wee hours this morning; the team that picks up my trash at the road weekly; the post office service for guaranteed delivery of daily mail; those who appreciate my writing for the sarcasm and irony that it attempts to be (most of the time).

I am who I am and because of who I am, I am going to work on a lengthy short story for a while and lay down this electronic blogging pen.

Until next time...

Have you ever wondered about the living beings, anywhere, not just on this planet, being clueless about what living is, and just because they can travel [what appears to be] great distances doesn't mean they've accumulated the same set of knowledge we have?  An automatically migrating set of states of energy (think monarch butterfly or crane) using this planet as a stop along the way to reproductive "wintering" grounds at another location in what we think of as a another dimension?

Many people have wondered about that.  I'm going to explore the thoughts of those people in my short story and see where the story ends up.

The Committee of 7.5 will have to wait!

Guidance Counselor

We test and tweak and tear apart.

Setting up the initiating points and fuzzy, general areas where we want the second part of the current phase to appear as if it appeared apparitionally, we planted GPS tracking devices on vehicles and personages (some in parsonages).

The data from these devices help us determine the types of personalities likely to react rather than act, act without requiring reaction, or wait for something that will never appear/happen.

Vehicles, for example: a Camry with tag 97931AY that speeds up and follows a faster driver; an auto with tag S 2137A, acting as if on official business while disobeying posted limits, creating a chain of events no one will ever connect, despite historical significance.

Persons: the shopper who was allowed to swap price tags and will be called on to betray family/friends; the person who anonymously cleaned a disabled elder's house and will be duly rewarded anonymously to improve general economic conditions.

We can get seduced into believing our effect on the future and forget how to live right now.

"I told you so" is a phrase born out of narcissistic vanity.

Individuals do not exist. Every moment should teach us that all is all and nothing else.

We are the reflections of those who are reflecting those who reflect.

The phrase should be, "On further reflection..." and lead into one's secure place in family, subculture, culture and universe.

I believe I am me but I know better.

We carry one image of self augmented by constantly-changing extensions of self.

But self does not exist. It is many things, instead, but only one thing to those who think individually - may be a soul that belongs to heaven or hell; a temporary manifestation of a god's thought; states of energy.

We cannot erase seven billion thought sets but we can occasionally show the crowd the scaffolding and propaganda that creates the illusion of self within one's acceptable surroundings that one often believes is the true way to live.

Then, we go on from there together - attached to this planet for many more decades.

If the flow of water stopped, what would you do? If your monetary system suddenly disappeared, how would you exchange labour or investment credits for goods and services? If food was no longer available at any price, what would you be willing to eat?

What if one item fromabove was left and could feed one of two, would you sacrifice yourself or the other person?

Would you like to see how many of your daily actions lead to others being sacrificed for you?

Or how your death is the result of others sacrificing you?

Let's find out, shall we?

Maybe a universally-accessible database of tracking device info comparing the vehicle's actions to local laws as well as summary records of the driver's emotional conditions and level of paying attention to the road - daily offenders will be automatically cited and publicly arrested at inconvenient times in their lives.

Set examples for others.

Remove a few pebbles from disturbing the serenity of the pond.

No exceptions.

No more special privileges.

A small demonstration first...

Staged Takeover

How tired we grow of others getting the credit.

You know, the groups which claim titles like the Italian Mafia, the Russian Mafia, the Jewish Mafia, the Gay Mafia, or La Familia.

There is and always will be one family to rule them all: the Redneck Mafia.

Every mob needs theme songs and troubadors to sing ballads retelling the conquests and family love sagas of old for future generations.

Thus, we rely on our compadres, The Three Redneck Tenors, to belch 'n' belt out the music of our subba-bubba couture.

Momma don' sing no bass in this ensemble.

Instead, the former circus ringmaster, Dinny "Colonel" McGuire, tamed the low notes and made them do his bidding as he tied together classic Christmas songs with redneck regalia about Edna Mae, newly widowed due to a woodchipper accident.

The three...no, make that two tenors and one baritone filled the air with the scent of Budweiser beer and the...

I interrupt the train of thought you had been followin' to ask you, "How many talents do you have?"

Is your cousin your male spouse and thus your "cusband"?

Can you sing like Luciano Pavarotti, Placido Domingo, Maria Callas or Leontyne Price? Maybe Lena Horne or the Celtic Women?

Are you a rocket engineer and a member of your local orchestra?

Listening to the classically-trained voices of Matthew Lord, Blake Davison and Alex Bumpas roll off one classic redneck joke after another and then bounce around on stage in duct-taped tennis shoes or high heels and skirt while singing three-part harmony...

Well, you might just know why my train of thought wandered.

Speaking of, "Downtown" Gordon Brown might just know what he's talking about, marshalling the U.S. to lead the light brigade (this time backed by a few battle-hardened battalions and naval battle groups!).

But I digress.

Thanks to the violinist, Allen Ames, and the rest of the band led by Craig Bohmler, choreography by Candace Evans, Lindsay Hilliard's portrayal of Edna Mae, complete with plum coverage (no, not plumage) in the dance of the sugarplum's fairy.

Working an audience is work, from gauging whether an audience will connect Dean Martin to Jimmy Dean to encouraging the crowd to see a squirrel as the chicken of the tree (as opposed to tuna as the chicken of the sea).

Well, that's all my uncharged Kindle battery will allow.

G'nite, y'all. I love all seven billion of ya, even if I feel like kickin' some of ya in the backsides sometimes, hopin' it knocks ya out of the doldrums and into some sense.

Now to make some cents the hard way, one newly enlightened customer at a time!

The More Things Stay The Same...

An Affair of the Wallet.

If anyone figures out how to make money without making money, let me know.

Don't eat yellow snow?

If space travelers can consume recycled urine, then is it okay to consume quantities of bladder output "recycled" as frozen snow decoration?

The future is interesting and always descriptive.  After all, what do fish encounter every day - past, present or future, particularly pluperfect participled?

Are more of your friends cartoon/TV characters than real people?  Would you know or care if more of your friends in social media were fictional?

Some analysts say that our species is divided into the firstborn getting the spoils of the previous generation and everyone else fighting over what's left.

In other words, sibling rivalry.

Is life that simple to you?

Would you see the states of energy in totally different terms?

Are you ready to read the story of our lives that requires a...well, I'm not supposed to tell you right just yet.

You'll "see."

Is a Bitcoin equivalent part of that picture?

Transitionally, yes.

You finish the lyrics:

My country, 'tis of thee,
Sweet land of killing bees, to thee I plea!
Land where my fathers tried
To spread bad pesticide,
From every mountainside let toxins spring!

Now, back to your regularly scheduled Muzak lyrics...

Where's Rachel Carson's wisdom and Johnny Carson's humour when we need them?

Is Angelina Jolie the new Roger Moore of spy movies?

Remember those backwater years of James Bond movies when the caricature known as Roger Moore kept the franchise going?  Nuff sed.

Imagine owning a cockatiel (or rather, it owning you) for 21 years, the bird turning little cardboard boxes into homes complete with chewed-out windows to stare at you.

Congrats to all the runners - the DNFs, winners and finishers - who ran the Rocket City Marathon course today; especially the ones who overcame personal adversity - pain, injury, etc.  Relatively warm for this time of year just before the cold and rain/snow sweep through.

Good to see familiar faces in the Holiday Inn, including Abdul and other hotel employees, Kris and the ham radio operators/comm team/timekeepers, Virginia College students, emergency/police personnel and fellow food volunteers led by Jim.

Thanks to Publix, Brueggers, Dole and Atlanta Bread Company; runners' support/family; the person who said he's going to play Santa Claus early and give some of the leftover food to random homeless people.

Checked the Book of the Future this afternoon - a new forecast is almost ready for broadcast.  Even I, as jaded as I am right now, can't believe what's going to happen next.  Surprised?  No.  Basically amazed.

Oh, and a shoutout to UT.

Portsmouth vs. Kittery?

Or Dover vs. Durham?

How about Strawbery Banke or interoperability testing near Newick's?

Who's bidin' his time until another road mishap?

A BCS championship coach, perhaps?

Devlin, McNally...like original football names of old.

Still, a lot more attendees at Dover or Rockingham Loudon races.

Hmm...wonder why...

Transcript newly released...

"GW, I, as much as anyone associated with your father's administration, would like to say affirmatively, without hesitation, that we know what we don't know and there positively are chances that there are aren't any WOMD in Iraq."

"So, DR, you're saying there are no WOMD in Iraq?"

"DC, is that what I told GW?"

"Well...inasmuch as I never said I intentionally shot my colleague while hunting..."

"DC, are you saying that DR is saying that we are too weak to take Iraq unilaterally?"

"GW, what are you trying to say?"

"I don't know, DC.  Seems to me you're the one with the daughter who's..."

"GW, I thought we agreed you wouldn't ask and I wouldn't tell.  Isn't that right, DR?"

"Maybe GW's right, DC.  Seems like it all started with the whole 'points of light' thing that GW's father started.  Makes us look too touchy-feely to the Saudis."

"Haha, DR. That's a good one, knowing what we do about the Saudi royalty.  'Don't ask, don't tell.'  Seems like if you pay off enough people, they do what they want."

"Speaking of which, GW, did we ever get paid back for that pilot training we funded?"

"DC, I told you, like Daddy said, 'read my lips,' we were never directly associated with the attacks on the WTC and the Pentagon."

"But the good guys we intentionally planted on the flight that crashed in Pennsylvania..."

"Never happened, DC.  Isn't that right, DR?"

"There is no record and there never will be, of any facts to the contrary."

"Meaning what, exactly, DR?"

"GW, is it what I just said."

"DC, what did he just say?"

"What you said, GW."

"Which is?"

"Exactly."

"I see.  And none of this is being recorded?"

"Precisely, GW."

"DR, does that mean it is or it isn't being recorded?"

"That's correct, GW.  It is isn't being recorded."

"Very well.  Let's talk more about my presidential library.  I'd like 36 holes of legendary golf to encircle the building complex."

"Do you mean 36 legendary holes of golf, GW?"

"DR, why don't you go plot some output with CP or something?  DC and I can handle this one ourselves."

"Yes, sir.  I believe we can nab one of the Saddam Hussein lookalikes and let Saddam enjoy the rest of his retirement in..."

"DR, that's highly classified.  Even GW doesn't know what you're talking about."

"Lips sealed.  See you boys later."