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Friday, November 2, 2012

The De-Friending Apocalypse is Nigh

It’s very disappointing to see my Facebook friends removing one another for liking particular philosophies. This political season has been trying everyone’s patience, but it is disturbing to watch former friends ignore each other over illegal immigration or second amendment rights.

Most philosophies have something to teach you whether you accept them or not. I disagree with the theory of socialism, but I add to my understanding of economics when I investigate the root reasons why I disagree. I have friends that claim to be socialists. I don’t dump them. Socialism is not the sum of their existence and rarely the defining force of their lives. They may also like jam bands, science fiction and ironing laundry. Those are things I can appreciate, especially if these friends come over to iron MY laundry.

Probably not socialist.  (Photo credit)

If you scrutinize your own chosen organizations, you might note that you don’t accept all of them completely. Your friends feel the same about their own “likes.” They may enjoy listening to Rush Limbaugh or Bill Maher and quote them from time to time. This doesn’t mean they agree with every word from their mouths or how they live their personal lives.

Many people detest Honey Boo-Boo, but usually don’t de-friend people for watching her. Why is this more acceptable?

Next time you are outraged your “friend” posts an article opposing one of your pet issues, pause before you de-friend. Consider what you have in common with that person and why you became friends in the first place. If you still want to dump them, go for it.

If you de-friend me because I like John Stossel or Gary Johnson or International Talk Like A Pirate Day, you may be narrowing your view of the world. I am an atheist with religious friends and family. I am a Libertarian with friends in many other political parties. I am a heterosexual with gay friends. I didn’t even de-friend the woman that posts too many Nickleback videos. Now that’s acceptance!

Not Nickelback.

Friday, September 14, 2012

New York's Soda Ban


I’m worn out with all the political chat. It’s debatable what the right thing to do in the Middle East might be. I can only guess the best way to fix our economy. To combat my mental shutdown on all things truly nation-changing, I am writing about a “big” topic that doesn’t confuse me.

In six months, residents of New York City will be limited in the purchase sugary drinks over 16 oz . Apparently, this is going to make strides in solving the obesity problem. Restaurants, concessions, food carts and delis are affected. Grocery and convenient stores are not.

So if I live in NYC, I can buy as many three-liter bottles of soda as I like (with food stamps even) at the grocery store. I can drink soda during all my waking hours as long as I do it at home. In contrast, if I attend a Yankees game, I can only buy 16 oz at a time.

This proposal was passed by the New York City Board of Health. The board is appointed by the mayor with approval of the city council. The positions are unpaid and terms are six years. The council is officially 11 members, all experts in various health and medical issues according to this web site.

In addition to improving the waistlines of New Yorkers, the new law will purportedly save money. NYC spends $4 billion per year on medical care for overweight people. Reportedly, 58% of the population of the region is obese. I assume that the $4 billion is spent on only the overweight people without their own health insurance. I didn’t see any statistics listing how much is spent on those that are not overweight. It seems like a pertinent question.

Presumably, diet soda is still subject to the law.

Another good question may be what economic effect might this have on outfits that currently sell large beverages? Supplies shouldn’t be an issue. They have warning. Sell down the stock of 32 oz cups and only buy 16 oz. The danger is in sales. But that’s easy, isn’t it? Just increase the price of the 16 oz. In fact, double the price of the 16 oz drink then offer “buy one, get one free.” Same amount of soda, same price, two containers, double the environmental impact! I suppose free refills work too.

Mayor Bloomberg has stated this is not the last step in combating obesity. I have some ideas for him. Limit the amount of meat on any sandwich to be not over 6 oz. A slice of pie can only be as large as 1/8 of a 12” radius dessert. No appetizers allowed. After all, these things may have some nutritional content but all of them have more fat than a giant soda. Also, alcohol has more calories than soda and also impairs judgment, so back to prohibition.

Before long, we will be living in a peaceful future where we are all vice-free. No swearing, no guns, no sex, no rock music, no violence and nothing that could possibly be bad for you. Also, Sylvester Stallone will save us. Or was that a movie?

Yeah, forget that last paragraph.

I rarely drink soda and I truly think no one needs copious quantities of it in a single serving. But since when does a body of government (non-elected at that) decide personal soda limit? I will decide what to do with my body. It is my property after all.

Suggesting to people what is best for them is a pretty good idea. Forcing them to do what’s best just breeds resentment and rebellion.

Thursday, September 6, 2012

Seven Bad RPG Character Names


I enjoy creativity in character names, forum handles and other unique forms of Internet nicknames. The lore behind a name can be an interesting tale that rounds out my vision of personality for a given individual.

The flip side of enjoying such details is that I am annoyed at stupid names. I realize stupid is a relative term in this case. While I might think “Angelkiss” sounds pretty dumb, there are many who would enjoy such a name. But this is my blog. I’ll make the completely arbitrary judgment calls around here, so here is a list of name types I hate particularly as they relate to online RPGs.

1. Directly lifted names of popular characters
If I meet one more elf named Legolas (or Legollas, Legolass, Leggolas, etc…), I may injure myself or others. Yes, we know you are a fan. This is a fantasy game where nearly everyone is an appropriate level on the geek index to have read or watched LOTR. A decent percentage probably own prosthetic elf ears. If you’re going to name yourself after a character in popular media, at least choose a lesser known one that plunges deep into the fandom. How about Thranduil? No one would mistake you for a superficial fan with a name like that. You’re deep! Plus Legolas calls him “Dad” and he’s a king.

Don't make me shoot you for abusing my good name.

 
2. Obvious names
I once knew a ranger named “Tracke”. Come on, man! You’re not even trying.

3. Evocative names
Ever met a player named “Foxypants” or the like? Did you try to flirt? If not, chances are you missed an opportunity. Dependent upon the gender of said player, it was either an opportunity for cyber or an opportunity to be told, “um, hey, I’m a guy.” Admittedly, there is a third possibility that I am keenly aware of. I named my character “Jajunk.” It seemed harmless at the time as it was a song title. I added a surname later that sort of fits in this category. I forgive myself because I added “Inzetrunk” for the humor.

4. Names I can’t type
I can’t find the umlaut key on my keyboard. If you use an accent mark of any kind that I can’t figure out in less than three seconds, we’ll probably never be friends. Unless there is an option to reply without typing your name, I will also appear to be ignoring you. I’m sorry. I’m sure you’re a fine person though perhaps complex.

A helpful Aperture employee locates an umlaut that is not on a keyboard.

 
5. Long-ass names
As with names I can’t type, you will be receiving neither direct communication nor group invitations from me. I may have known you for years, but we are talking about my entertainment here and I will be lazy if I want to. I’m looking at you, Imwalkinthepath (additionally, a sentence is NOT a name).

6. Titles in names
“Ladysarah” or “Darthmeanie” are not very subtle. Chances are Ladysarah is either not smart enough to realize what she has done or “she” is actually a guy pretending to be a woman. In a number of RPGs, “Lady” is actually an attainable title. If you start off with the name, you may look dumb later when you earn a title and suddenly you are known as “Lady Ladysarah” or “Darth Darthmeanie.” Lucky for you, most games also allow you to turn off titles. But isn’t it cooler to earn it than to immediately promote yourself to a higher social status?

7. Outright stupid
“Hail, Luvtheheals.” “Perhaps you could assist with my collection, Buttface.” “Can you help me find my missing little brother, Dirtyoldman?” Quest dialogue just isn’t the same with a stupid name. Almost any name has a place in some game, but I prefer when it’s kept in the spirit of the game. Stupidity is sort of cool in Kingdom of Loathing, but calling yourself “Lazerbeem” in a fantasy game is out of place and erodes the role-playing illusion.

I know we all get frustrated sometimes trying to select names online. Many are already taken. But I look at it as an opportunity for broader creativity. If someone already has that name, I don’t want it anyway. It’s common.

In the end, I usually say nothing to those that I feel have unoriginal or stupid character names. I don’t discriminate. I even group with them though all the while shaking my head and giving a small sigh.

Tuesday, August 21, 2012

Jewel

We were Jewel's fourth home.  She'd really got around even at just one year old.  But we knew she was staying with us as soon as she came in the house.

Supposedly, Jewel was a purebred Egyptian Mau.  I am skeptical about the breed background of most cats and no exception here, but she did fit the bill.  Green eyes, the tabby "M", a ticked pattern, nearly waterproof fur and the extra skin flap with long back legs.  Then there's the spots.  Yeah, not so many spots.  So her first home was probably not a meticulous breeder.

Jewel's second home was with a woman and another cat.  She did fine there for a time.  But the story I heard was that the woman's boyfriend abused the cats.  Then the boyfriend decided it was ultimatum time, it was the cats or him.  The woman chose him.  It seems crazy since people that abuse pets often also abuse other people.  I hope she did all right.

A lady she knew took the cats.  The lady brought them to her daughter's house who already had four cats.  All the cats were indoor/outdoor there.


This is where I come into the story.  The daughter of the lady that rescued the cats was a co-worker.  Our year-old cat needed a companion.  Mostly we just hoped the cat we already had would stop biting our fingers and toes at night and play with the other cat instead.

I was supposed to be looking at a different cat, but once I arrived I could see the owner was kind of attached.  And there was Jewel, frightened low cat on the totem pole that had no interest in going outdoors.  How could I resist a poor little feline that waited to sneak in and eat last so the other cats wouldn't threaten her?

On the way home, Jewel showed a lifelong habit for the first time.  She pooped in her carrier.  After a quick stop to remove the odoriferous object, we continued on.  She was cautious as she was released into the wilds of our home, but got along with the resident cat, Pandora, very quickly.  There was no doubt she had found her place.

Over 13 and a half years, Jewel put up with a lot.  We added a third cat, Miranda, that became her faithful sidekick.  Then I began fostering cats for a rescue group, so there was often an extra adult cat or a whole litter of kittens staying in the guest suite (second bathroom) or strolling around.


A few years ago, Jewel was diagnosed as hyperthyroid.  It barely slowed her down.  When I called her, she would come and take her medication without complaint.  It's a pretty rare thing to shove medicine down a cat's throat twice a day and still retain your skin.  Last year, she developed a liver tumor.  It was just not feasible to remove it.  She only had use of about a quarter of her liver.  We added a supplement to her diet and hoped we'd know when the time was right to let her go.

Today was the last day that I got to hold my cat.  I'm going to miss her badly, but I know it was the right decision.  She was worn out and wobbly.  She still had the energy to crawl on my lap, but I could see it was only a matter of days.

Everyone that met Jewel thought she was amazing.  No one more so than I.  The vet's office provided a clay impression of her paw for which I am grateful.  I don't need a memento to remind how wonderful she was, but it gives me something tangible.  I may not be able to touch her, but I can trace a paw print and think about my love for her.

Thursday, June 21, 2012

The Party Animal

Technically, it was a bird. But “Party Avian” doesn’t have the same zip.

Some of you already know of whom I speak. To those of you that do not: suspend your judgment for just a few minutes. Please read all the way through before declaring, “What sick bastards!”

It is a strange moment in time when you’re digging through your kitchen freezer and come up with a parakeet. But there was Reggie in a zipper bag, plumage as bright as the day he died.

The members of the household put their sleuthing heads together. What had possessed us to so preserve our little friend? We reviewed the facts.

Reggie was a standard green parakeet. I had inherited him from my job as an intern. The manager was moving and needed a home for his bird. Our household had other birds, so were used to caring for them. He spent his days happily pecking and chirping. He had his own cage without other birds, so foul play was not suspected.

Dramatic re-enactment of Reggie's life (from parakeetcare.org).

We also knew we had not placed him in the freezer alive. I know I mentioned we might have been “sick bastards”, but that would be cruel and horrible. One day, he simply passed on as pets are wont to do. Parakeets are neither the hardiest nor the longest-lived of household pets. It took some time, but we finally remembered we had frozen our little budgie just in case he had died of a transmissible bird disease we may later have needed to identify if our other birds became ill.

We felt better after realizing this. Our other birds had not had any issues, so Reggie had not been pulled out of the freezer for emergency autopsy. Unfortunately, the macabre re-discovery of the body was made in the dead of winter. In western New York, the ground if frozen pretty hard that time of year. Our best option was to pop Reggie back in the deep freeze and wait for the spring thaw to determine his final resting place. Good plan.

Not for use on frozen tundra.

 
I don’t remember who found Reggie the second time. I do remember that houseguests were present. I imagine the look of horror that on their faces as they understood they were eating food that came from that freezer. Then again, we had interesting friends, so perhaps it was merely a look of curiosity.

I recall we very quickly explained why there was a dead bird in the freezer. The guests relaxed. Their hosts were not horrible people and had just wanted to safeguard their other feathered friends. Right.

Somehow after a couple of friends knew there was a bird in our freezer, word got out. We never asked ourselves until later if it was strange that people started asking to see Reggie. Before long, on every occasion when we had visitors, Reggie made an appearance. The crowd would chant "Reggie!  Reggie!  Reggie!" until he made his brief appearances (so as not to thaw out). But he had become a mascot, an entertainer and…the Party Animal.

Reggie became so popular that as spring arrived with opportunities of softer ground, we were loathe to bury him. Friends felt the same, forbidding our planned memorial service.

A couple of years later, household changes were due. We had a college graduate, a high school graduate and a mom that wanted to relocate somewhere warmer. The apartment was packed up as we each made our decisions about where to go next. As we finished and some friends helped us load our possessions, we debated Reggie’s fate.

One friend volunteered to go buy a bag of ice for our cooler so we could bring Reggie to our new home in Atlanta. Politely, we declined. It was time for Reggie to be laid to rest. The truck was closed and the old apartment locked as we stood in a loose circle where the lilies of the valley grew by the side of the house. We all smiled at our fond memories of Reggie then hugged each other goodbye, leaving him behind to sleep.

Not for use as pet carrier.

The story of a parakeet usually ends abruptly. They are cheerful companions, but not made for long lifespans. Even their owners sometimes forget they existed after a time. Reggie, however, will be well-remembered by many. Now you may say “What sick bastards!” if you like.

Saturday, May 5, 2012

On Gay Marriage

The institution of marriage is being completely ruined. There are people in our country today who choose a lifestyle that flies in the face of our national good will. They abuse the liberties we have inherited from our wise forefathers via the bill of rights. They display their own public relationships with possessive pride.

They are citizens of the United States that oppose gay marriage.

I’ve heard the reasons. It’s unnatural. It invalidates the sanctity of marriage. It will bankrupt the morals of our youth. I don’t want to see/hear/smell anything gay. It’s a gateway to anarchy and hell!

Reduced-brightness Hellfire for safe viewing.

There are actually theories that purport quite natural reasons for homosexuality. For instance, the presence of gay men may actually be a benefit to their female siblings. Their contributions to their sisters’ offspring increase the level of care for those children. It’s been called the “gay uncle” theory, but is more traditionally known as “kin selection” by evolution theorists.

Another theory is that it is an adaptive technique for slowing explosive population growth. It could be a physiological response built in to try to curb our suicidal rush to overburden our lovely little planet. Of course, none of this really matters to gay people. They know their own identities and they want to be happy just like anyone else. They don’t need to be catalogued or fixed. They just need to be.

So about that whole sanctity of marriage thing…aren’t you religious folks supposed to let God be the judge? It is completely and rightly up to you if you don’t want to allow same-sex ceremonies in your churches. If you intrinsically disagree with it, attend a church that doesn’t participate. I’m positive there are other more understanding congregations that will be more than happy to accept those you reject and the tithes that go with them.

Next up, a friendly message to the homophobes: get over it. You are going to see gay things for the rest of your life. It takes a lot more energy to fight it than accept that there are people who live different than you. That energy is better spent fighting off telemarketers and getting through traffic. Ironically, objecting to homosexuality simply draws more attention to it. And you know your kids are just looking for a way to rebel.

Sure, they SEEM friendly.

I have a personal reason for not wanting gays to get married. Frequently, they are the life of the party. If society allows them to settle down and become stable and happy, they may also become boring. But that’s just my own selfishness talking.

Then again, all of the reasons to oppose gay marriage boil down to that one thing.  Selfishness.  Ask yourself who is more selfish? Two people wanting to share their lives bonded together or others that want to prevent those people from living happily ever after?

Thursday, February 23, 2012

Describe Your Ideal School

Describe your ideal school structure. Don’t worry about how “there is no way to change the system to get there.” Just describe. This is an exercise (like in school).


My foremost concern is options. If I have a child, I want to be able to read “mission statements” or goals of various schools, so I know how they intend to help me educate my child. I want to choose a school that is closest to my values and matches the way my child’s brain works. A dyslexic child is not any less intelligent than others. They just need different learning techniques.

Secondly, I have thought often about the way our govt funds schools. This is generally based on geography and population. Funding is supplied to schools and parents are instructed where to send their kids. If they choose a private school or home-schooling, do they get a tax break? No. What if the funds followed the kids instead of the kids following the funds? I would rather pay my school taxes to the school of my choice as tuition then trust the govt to allocate those funds for me.

Please remember, this is an “ideal” notion. I realize there are plenty of disinterested parents who wouldn’t bother to research and select for their kids. However, a system that allows for options would also still have the public/govt school option. If your kid goes there, you money goes there. Parents choose the school that spends money in the way they want it spent. More art programs in school X? More sports in school Y?

Another point I realize is that many teachers would not like this system initially. It means competition. It means less security based on tenure. It means more judgment based on job performance. The good vs. bad teacher argument would still be a debate. Would a competitive school be one that handed out good grades like Halloween candy or one that made children earn grades? Again, parents can judge a school based on their own criteria. Do I want my kid to have it easy, get straight A’s and still work as a grocery store clerk? Or do I want my kid to learn how anything worthwhile is earned, not given?

Eventually, many teachers may see that a system of choice gives them a choice too. They can apply for work at a tough school or an easy school. They can choose an atheist school, religion-based school or any sort of specialization. Schools compete to hire the best teachers. And what if there are school types we haven’t considered?

This next bit is purely from my imagination. Consider a neighborhood school. Say there are ten households in a small neighborhood. Not every household has children, so let’s put the number of school-age kids at 15, ages 5-18. Either one adult has a certification to teach or one is hired from outside the community. An assistant is also hired. Could one teacher plus one assistant efficiently teach that many children in a homeschool type technique? Would the neighborhood parents provide a traditional or alternative classroom setting and be willing to pay that teacher and an assistant to educate those children? Maybe not, but change the parameters. One teacher with seven kids? Three teachers with 30?

This has become long-winded and wanders a little into unknown territory. I don’t suggest that my ideas are the best. I only suggest that there are more ideas than are currently being considered and some of you have them. Do as you ask your students and children to do and exercise your brains to invent solutions. Maybe those same students and children can even contribute some ideas.

Monday, February 6, 2012

No Quarter Given

“Mom, I think I just swallowed a quarter.”

These immortal words were uttered in 1986 (or maybe 1985?) by a young girl describing a most unusual situation.

But let’s back up just a few minutes to see how the event unfolded.

The scene is a kitchen in the early evening. The fourteen-year-old is sitting in a chair at the kitchen table. Mom is on the phone. It’s a rotary wall phone in a lovely shade of mustard yellow. No one remembers who Mom is talking too, but all agree on the level of impatience in Girl’s general attitude.

Primitive Communications Device


“C’mom, Mom. When are we going?” the youngster questions repeatedly. The plan was to go to the mall, always an exciting time in a teenager’s life. But Mom’s conversation just seems like it will NEVER EVER end. Girl does what all kids do. She gets pouty. For some reason, Girl has two quarters in her right hand which she is rubbing together as if to start a money fire. Her left arm is across her body in “arms crossed” position. Girl leans back in her chair resting on the two back legs. She ignores all conventional wisdom about the germs on coins and sort of bounces said coins off her bottom lip. Girl loses her balance. Girls’s chair slides forward to its intended position of all four legs on the floor. One of the quarters Girl is holding slides straight back down her throat.

Put a white cushion on it and it's the spitting image of pure evil.


Now don’t get crazy. In the above flashback, Girl had no trouble breathing and was not in any immediate danger. However, the quarter did come to rest in a fixed position. Average human throat diameter is about one inch (possibly less in an immature female specimen). The diameter of a quarter is about ¾ of an inch. For reference, the quarter was stuck about halfway down the front of the neck.

Girl was quick to identify the issue to Mom. Mere moments later, the quarter scraped its way down to the base of the neck. Since Girl did not exhibit the universal sign for choking, Mom wrapped up her phone conversation normally before hanging up. By then, the quarter had settled squarely between Girl’s breasts and refused to budge.

No Joke!

“Does it hurt?” Mom asked.

“No,” Girl replied. “Wait, it is sort of starting to…irritate. Oh, God, get it out!”

Vrroom. Mom drove Girl to the hospital.

After being admitted to the emergency room, it was x-ray time and also the beginning of something more. An orderly gave instructions on positioning and listened to the story of how this odd event had happened. His comment?

“That’s kind of hard to swallow.”

Mom snickered.

The next part of the evening was a nightmarish blur. The reason for that was drugs. After reviewing the x-ray, a doctor decided the quarter had to come out the hard way. If it didn’t fit through the esophagus, it was not going to go quietly through the small intestines. Two substances were administered. One was Demerol. This immediately relaxed all of Girl’s muscles and the quarter dropped into her stomach. The doctor announced the stomach would now need to be vacuumed and provided the second drug. Girl did not catch the name of it, but it was a viscous liquid that numbed the throat on contact. Have you ever tried to swallow with a numb throat while on a mind-altering drug? Girl would advise against it.

At this point, Girl became disoriented. She did not know if she was swallowing or not, but she tried real hard. Apparently that worked because she had to swallow a crazy-big suction tube. The device pushed air into her stomach forcing her to belch. Then the suction would grab stomach contents and deliver them to the waiting doctors. It seemed like it took hours, but Girl had a skewed concept of time at that point.

At long last, the quarter was retrieved and there was much rejoicing. Mom took Girl home. Life returned to normal. Mostly.

Let’s fast forward a few days to the weekend at Dad’s house.

Girl is getting in Dad’s car to go out for ice cream/dinner/something random.

Dad says, “Wait a minute. I forgot something.” Dad goes back into the house and then returns.

Dad says, “Here. I brought you something.” He drops an object into Girl’s waiting hand.

He says simply, “Snack,” as Girl observes the quarter in her palm.


In addition to a year’s worth of flashbacks where Girl’s throat would suddenly go numb, Girl’s family was also relentless.

We’ll view one more example.

Mom, Brother and Girl are passing a vending machine. Brother starts searching his pockets before asking Mom for money. Mom says she doesn’t have any cash.

Brother asks Girl, “Hey, could you cough up some change?”


Fortunately, Girl saw the humor in the situation and was glad to provide her family with a bountiful supply of one-liners. And yes, she still has the quarter.

Collector's Item?


Picture credits:
Phone - tariqwest.tumblr.com
Chair - ths.gardenweb.com
Choking - cogitoergoblawg.wordpress.com
Quarter - usmint.gov