Month: February 2011

What to do….inventing robots was taken.

Certain things are hard to figure out, from time to time, I’ll tell you.

For example, I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up. (Please know….. this realization hasn’t just happened upon me.  It has been an ongoing thing, since about the age of seven, or so.  I’m just a wee bit older now, and feeling the urgency to make some kind of decision here.) Oh, I’ve tried a few different paths… and have considered even more.  Some jobs I have contemplated pursuing:

A painter of the underside of boats.

Designer of ornamental drains on rooftops.

An inner-sole cobbler.

Sewer Engineer.

Molar Polisher.  Back molars.

Fire Hydrant Inspector.

Border patroller between Idaho and Utah.

Yep, these are just a few options I’ve mulled over.  Then, there are some things I would have liked to have done, but they were already taken.  Mostly inventor-like jobs.  For instance:

The Inventor of Robots.

The Archeologist who found King Tut’s Tomb.

First Person to  devise a crossword puzzle.

All taken.

The problem is, I don’t even have a parachute.  Let alone, know what the heck color it is.

…and the Klutzky goes to….

Oscar. Oscar.  The big ones were The King’s Speech for Best Picture.  Colin Firth, Best Actor.  Natalie Portman, Best Actress.

And there you have it.  Some thought the results should have fallen differently.  Everyone sees things from a unique point of view.

Consider this door.  When you are walking along the street and looking skyward to pinpoint the location of thunderous helicopter overhead, and your foot catches a large crevice in the stone walk, and you lose all bodily control, flailing hopelessly toward the unyielding pavement, all the while attempting to shield your camera from damage, or (heaven forbid) lose control of your corndog (sporting BOTH mustard & ketchup)….. and when you finally cease toppling and tumbling and come to a grinding halt….  you might see a door much differently than you would have….. say three or four moments before.

….I brought home the award today for best stunt woman in a real life drama.  I did not have a speech prepared for the acceptance.

Corndog. Check.  Camera. Check.  Polly. Check….. and we’re walking…….   like it never even happened.  The magic of the movies.  Roll the credits.

Shoo. Fly. Shoo.

“Oh don’t land here….oh please.  Not here.  Noooooooooo……. not right on my head.  C’mon now.  Shooo.  Shoooo you.”

“Just fly away.  Okay, now.  It’s not easy being a statue, especially at times like these.  I stand here, day in, day out.  The likes of you, landing on my head…  so c’mon you.  Go on.  Git.  Oh my, you ARE a BIG bird.  HOLY CRAP….. what did you eat for lunch?  Your butt smells like rotten Grackles.  Common Grackles at that.  Alright.  Here’s what I’ll do…… I’ll say  a little prayer for you.”

“The moment I wake up
Before I put on my makeup
I say a little prayer for you
While combing my hair, now
And wondering what dress to wear, now
I say a little prayer for you….

Foverver, and ever….”

I simply remember….

Maria knew the bee had stung, the dog had bitten….  the Captain was rushing off again.  No explanation.

She swallowed hard, but couldn’t make the knot in her throat disappear.  The tears began burning in her eyes… streaming down her face now…….. But why, oh why, couldn’t she remember any of her favorite things?  Now more than ever…. she needed to simply remember her favorite things….

She searched every corner of her mind…..“Was it kittens with mittens?  No, no, that’s not right…..  snowflakes on my toes and pink sashes…?  That’s all wrong.  Brown paper packages fried up with wings?  What is happening here?  I just can’t remember my favorite things….”

Wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings passed swiftly through the sky above her…….

The games we play…

Chutes and Ladders.  Now there’s a game I never played as a kid.  Or an adult for that matter.  Never really played the Candyland thing either.  Or Life.  We were more Monolopy players… & Clue.  I remember those two for sure.  Definitely not Chutes and Ladders, but that is what came to mind when I caught view of this fire escape.  And then,  I said right out loud….  “I betcha’ any money that is how Chutes and Ladders got its start.”  Well it is a good thing you weren’t standing there.  Because I would have owned you “any money” right there on the spot.

So….. you know me.  I looked it up as soon as I got home.  It was called “Snakes and Ladders” in England, before Milton Bradley vamped a version for the U.S.  However, it started in India….  it was a game based on “morality” called “Paramapada Sopanam” (the ladder to salvation).  It was originated from the concept of  Hinduism consciousness around everyday life.

And there you have it.  While most of my little friends and neighbors were learning good moral lessons based on the Hindu premise, I was off killing Colonel Mustard in the den with a lead pipe.  A little later in the day, right after I got outa’ jail,  I would buy a bunch of hotels on Park Place and bilk people for rent.  Ahhhh…. the American way.

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From Wikipedia:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Snakes_and_ladders

The History of the Game:  Snakes and Ladders originated in India as a game based on morality called Vaikuntapaali or Paramapada Sopanam (the ladder to salvation).^[3] This game made its way to England, and was eventually introduced in the United States of America by game pioneer Milton Bradley in 1943.^[3]

The game was played widely in ancient India by the name of Moksha Patamu, the earliest known Jain version Gyanbazi dating back to 16th century. The game was called Leela and reflected the Hinduism consciousness around everyday life. Impressed by the ideals behind the game, a newer version was introduced in Victorian England in 1892, possibly by John Jaques of Jaques of London.

Moksha Patamu was perhaps invented by Hindu spiritual teachers to teach children about the effects of good deeds as opposed to bad deeds. The ladders represented virtues such as generosity, faith, humility, etc., and the snakes represented vices such as lust, anger, murder, theft, etc. The moral of the game was that a person can attain salvation (Moksha) through performing good deeds whereas by doing evil one takes rebirth in lower forms of life (Patamu). The number of ladders was less than the number of snakes as a reminder that treading the path of good is very difficult compared to committing sins. Presumably the number “100” represented Moksha (Salvation). In Andhra Pradesh, snakes and ladders is played in the name of Vaikuntapali.

The squares of virtue on the original game are Faith (12), Reliability (51), Generosity (57), Knowledge (76), Asceticism (78); the squares of evil are Disobedience (41), Vanity (44), Vulgarity (49), Theft (52), Lying (58), Drunkenness (62), Debt (69), Rage (84), Greed (92), Pride (95), Murder (73) and Lust (99)

Pay to play.

Good thing it was too cool  and windy to go swimming today.  Otherwise…. who knows.

I had to go out to Sullivan’s Island this morning, to do a shoot for someone.  While there, we stumbled upon Ft. Moultrie, which is a very fascinating place.  We’ll go back when there is more time to knock around a bit.  Anyway. we wanted to check out the beach area while there.  It seems they have some very specific rules, at least on this day.  As you can see, they do not condone any type of swimming or wading.  Seriously, they spell it out for you.  “Stay out of the water.”  Period…. well, not period…. just east of the dang rocks.

But here’s the real deal.  If you choose to toy with the Deadly Currents, they will fine you.  Not $1000.  NO.   Not $2000.  But, YOU touch your tootsies to the surf, and you get hammered with a one thousand FORTY dollar fine.  I would like to know how they came up with that specific dollar amount.  Maybe I’ll look up the Commissioners’ Meeting minutes.

Commissioner Rockcash:  Do we have a motion for a $1000 fine for dipping in the pond?
Commissioner Wetslur:  You know Bub, $1000 just doesn’t seem like quite enough.  How ’bout an extra 40 buck-a-roonies?
Commissioner Pay:  For what purpose?
Whistler:  You know.  Haven’t you ever heard of….”Just for the heck of it.”  Beeeeeeeccccaaauuuuussssse…….. My first house number was 1040.  I propose we take a little vote-see, now.
Rockcash: Aye.
Whistler: Aye.
Pay:  I…. uh…. whatever…. aye.

And there you have it.  That is how it goes with great minds………….. ….How crucial legislation comes to pass.  Current Events.

Heart.

“The heart has reasons that reason cannot know.”
– Blaise Pascal

Forgive us our….

Trespasses.

Well, I did it again.  I try not to.  I mean, I know it is wrong.  The whole trespassing thing…..  again….. I don’t SET OUT to do it.  It just evolves.

I try to hold my trespassing indiscretions to just a few times a year, because I sure don’t like it when people trespass against me.  I mean, Howard be thy Name!!!…… I try to forgive them too….  and I hope with all hope that my trespasses are forgiven as I forgave those who trespassed against me…..   you know the drill.  But when St. Francis tells you to talk to the hand, and his hand is missing…..well…..let’s just say it doesn’t bode well for the whole karma deal.

So here’s how it went.  I have been trying to shoot at this Catholic Cemetery all week.  But each time I walk ALL THE WAY UP THERE, the darn thing is locked up tight as a drum.  Today was no different.  The church is on a pretty busy street…. so there’s no climbing over the big iron gates there for God and everyone to see.  However, today, I noticed a back wall, that looked like it might have promise… and I knew a fairly quiet parking lot abutted.  AND THAT is when the Mission Impossible Theme Song starts playing over and over again in my head.  In a few moments, I was IN.  I really only scaled one small wall, and accessed a gate that “technically” wasn’t locked, but could be considered “secured”.  It all happened in a frenzied blur…. with Peter Graves’ face flashing in front of me.

I had the whole cemetery to myself. (Creepy.)  I shot like crazy……… but quickly.  And then exited.

While stealing through the aforementioned gate, I was met by a huge dark gray cat.  Not black, but dark gray.  Just sitting there, staring me down with it’s big green eyes.  I got the serious heebiest of the jeebies EVER.  I picked up my pace through the parsonage, and it was there I met St. Frank.  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry….”  and he just coldly gave me the missing hand.

I got home, and found that my camera settings were down about 5 stops.  Most of the digital data was too dark to use.  Except for St. Francis here.

It scared the living daylights out of me……  I broke out in a cold sweat…..  I…..  …..uh………uh…… I guess I have to go back tomorrow……  (This message will self-destruct in 5 seconds.)

Post Office Conspiracy

This is the Post Office.  It is right up the street from me.  It isn’t the only one around here… but one of them.  It relates to today’s snidbit… mainly because I lack a better venue tonight.

On this Day in 1792, on the 20th day of February…… President George Washington signed an act creating the U.S. Post Office.  It was a Monday.  Now, here is how it came about. Washington’s birthday was just around the corner.  Two days away.  He wanted BIRTHDAY CARDS!  So good old George canoodled this grand scheme of a thing called the Post Office… yes…… where people could take letters and correspondence….. and envelopes filled with cash inside cards that said Happy Birthday Georgie-Boy.

The Colonials could walk their dusty shoebuckles right in to a building and deposit this envelope, with an address or a name scribed on the front, the government would charge them a small pittance, and that letter would be taken to the intended recipient.  Magic.  Presto Chango.  There it goes.  And better yet, to prove the fee has been paid for such a delivery, there would be a thing called stamps…..mmmm hmmmmm…….. with President’s faces on them.

That George W.  was a thinker I’ll tell you.  A real thinker.  He had this one all tied up, neat & tidy, with twine.  But wait!  There’s more!  Oh yes, wait just a little minute Mr. Postman.  You guessed it.  One of George’s very closest cronies was Benny “The Kite” Franklin.  Guess who the first Postmaster General was……  Mr. Electricity…..  you got it.  Oh yes, send me a letter…..

America is dying….

I’ve been thinking this for a long time now.  Our country as we once knew it, is on the way out.  I’m not sure how it is going to end up…….. or down.  But things aren’t looking good….I am certain of that.

I mean, what the heck.  Anarchy in Wisconsin?   WISCONSIN?  America’s DairyLand?  Let’s just hope they keep it peaceful, and don’t stab or cut any cheese up there.

And now this…. ……..I am NOT jerking your chain here.  There is a 77 year-old Mennonite man in Ohio, who has been labeled the “Amish Madoff”.  Seriously.  This comes about, after the Securities and Exchange Commission accused him of losing $15 million of his neighbors’ money in a duplicitous investment scheme reminiscent of the notorious Madoff.

His name, of all things, is Monroe Beachy.  From Sugarcreek, Ohio.  Beachy is said to have collected $33 million from as many as 2,600 investors, many of them Amish, over 30 years.

Oh, there were warning signs, and those Amish-like friends & family just didn’t pick up on ’em.  Like, he started wearing colored socks and wearing his big black brimmed hat backwards.   He also wanted the other Mennonites to call him Beachy-Daddy.   He bought a white stretch-buggy.   His wife began suspecting trouble when Monroe would sometimes stay in bed until after 4:30 AM.

NBC’s Tom Brokaw tried to get him to comment on camera this evening, and Beachy replied “Talk to the hand, ’cause the beard ain’t listening.”

America is dying.