Yes, No, Maybe, Sometimes, Never In A Million Years

Date: Thursday, July 31, 2008
Time: 14:06
Place: Work

I know what I'm doing right now will probably be against policy, but I can't wait any longer.

I am sick and tired of polls. There are times when the subject just riles me, like a CNN poll, "Should Miley Cyrus give up being "Hannah Montana?" and the only choices you aer given are "Yes" or "No".

What about "Don't Care", or "Don't Give A Rat's Ass?" I know, I know, if you don't care, then don't answer, but what about my right to free speech, my right to voice my opinion? They never take that into account.

Look, all I know is that these pollsters need to start re-thinking the audience they're playing to. This is a general suggestion, not just in regards to "celebrity" garbage. And just who are these "celebrities"? These people who are famous, simply for being famous, or infamous as the case may be. Socialites who get into traffic accidents, "supermodels" who throw tantrums, seriously, does anyone really care about these people?

Once, just once, I would love to see a newsreader pull a "Howard Beale". Just once, I'd love to see an anchorperson look at the teleprompter, or look at the papers in their hand, get a look of disgust on their face, look at the camera and say, "I'm sorry, Ladies and Gentlemen, all those who viewing this right now, I'm sorry, I just can't bring myself to read yet another so-called story about what (insert celebrity name here) did, or didn't do." The anchorperson would then take off the microphone, stand up, and walk out of the studio.

But they wouldn't kill themselves over it, let's make that clear right now, they would just leave.

But that would never happen. The minute that anchorperson began to deviate from what was expected, the director and the producer would cut to a commercial.

Oopsie

Date: Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Time: 20:08
Place: Home

I have missed making some entries in this blog.

A few times, I either had writer's block, or suffered from Incoherency, which I wrote about in an entry. The other times I missed making an entry was because I was exhausted from what's been going on at my job.

Some weeks ago, we got subpoenaed. We're not getting sued, but we have to produce a truckload or three of paperwork regarding past and present projects. What's somewhat helpful is that most of the data has been saved as digital information.

What isn't helpful is that one of the projects was never scanned in, and guess who gets that little task? Correct! You got it in one! And then there's stuff that has to be edited, or to use the legal term, "redacted".

Now, before someone starts saying "But if you've been subpoenaed, doesn't that mean you can't talk about it?" It probably does, but I haven't said what company I work for, who subpoenaed us, or what projects we've done and/or are doing. All I've done is kvetch about it. :-P

Okay, So I'm A Slow Genius

Date: Monday, July 28, 2008
Time: 22:31
Place: Home

I think I finally figured it out. I think I know where I belong.

I belong in a world where there are domed cities on the surface of the Moon, and a colony on Mars.

I belong in a world where space travel is an everyday occurrence, and racism and hatred are things of the past.

The world I belong in has mankind getting along with all races, terrestrial and not.

I do not belong in what most people refer to as "reality", I belong in fantasy.

Fantasy is what I know best, it is where I am most comfortable, it is where I truly fit in.

Worth The Wait

Date: Sunday, July 27, 2008
Time: 22:05
Place: Home

I completely missed making an entry yesterday, but I believe it was worth it. You see, I took yesterday, Saturday, July 26, 2008, off. I took the day for me, to have some time for me, so I could clear my head after all of the crap I've dealt with for the last 3 weeks, including working on Saturday 2 weeks in a row.

I went out yesterday and I went comic book shopping. After that, I went to this Japanese Buffet restaurant I like, but haven't been able to go to for quite some time. It's an all-you-can-eat buffet that includes their dual-sided dessert bar. The only thing I'm not too thrilled with is they only serve the gyoza dumplings at lunchtime, not at dinner. At dinner they serve the shrimp shumai, which is okay, but I prefer gyoza.

But I had a day for me, and that's all that matters.

Exotic Dish

Date: Friday, July 25, 2008
Time: 23:34
Place: Home

Sometimes, I like to watch Food Network. I watch almost anything with Rachael Ray, I watch "Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives", I watch "Iron Chef America" if the secret ingredient is something I like, and sometimes I'll watch shows with Alton Brown.

One program Alton Brown usually hosts is called "Good Eats". Most of the time he'll feature some food or food product that I like, but at the same time he gives an education on the topic. Another program he hosted had him traveling cross-country and trying local cuisine in different places. One such place he tried had, as a local delicacy, Fried Pig Brain Sandwich.

He appeared to enjoy it, while I would be hard-pressed to try such a thing, especially if I knew what it was, I have made another roundabout route of making a point.

My point is, my brain is fried, not like the sandwich, but I'm still having a bit of trouble forming coherent thought. The only way I am able to write this entry is through sheer force of will, and remembering things like shows on Food Network.

Running On Empty

Date: Friday, July 25, 2008
Time: 00:22
Place: Home

Once again, I'm at a loss of what to write about. Between the stress I'm dealing with at work, and all of what I have to write for at school, I don't know if I even have anything to spare for this entry.

I was going to write something last night, but I dozed off. I was going to write earlier, but I couldn't think of anything. My creativity is fading again, and I'm not sure if it will come back this time.

And sometimes, I'm not sure I deserve to have it.

That's it, that's all I can deal with right now.

"Inconceivable!"

Date: Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Time: 22:41
Place: Home

While I have yet to have any of my stories published, I like to think that I have some talent as a writer, or as I like to call it, a story-teller.

Up until yesterday I have never hated anything I have ever written.

Until yesterday.

Last week, I was given an assignment for my Critical Thinking class. I was to write a short essay on what one learns at DeVry, but while using a collection of 5 bullet points. These 5 points were to be compiled from the bullet points in the DeVry Student Catalog, and from the list entitled "Program Outcomes of General Education".

Between Thursday evening, the day I got the assignment, and Sunday night, I was unable to write a thing. I just couldn't figure out how to get started and how to incorporate those five statements. But yesterday, Monday, I thought I had it.

Never before have I been so wrong about something. When I finished it, I looked it over, and said, out loud, "This is bulls**t!" It was so awful to read. It felt forced, it felt fake, which is what it was really, and I'm ashamed to put my name on it.

I'll try to work on it, but I don't know if it's fixable.

Huh?

Date: Monday, July 21, 2008
Time: 23:35
Place: Home

There's a new television series that I like watching now. It's called "The Middleman". When it first came on, I checked it out, but was able to take it or leave it. Now I find myself watching it every week.

The thing is, not only do they use present day music in the background, but they also credit the artists at the end of the episode. Tonight's episode had me repeating the following phrase over and over each time an artist was credited, "Never heard of them."

But then, why would I? Although I like to think I have an eclectic taste when it comes to music, unless the group is played on a radio station I listen to, I don't know them.

Take for instance, the music I'm listening to now, it runs the gamut of eras, from the '60s to Today. Maybe one day I'll tell you what songs they were.

No Pony

Date: Monday, July 21, 2008
Time: 00:14
Place: Home

I was once told this story about two little boys, one who was a pessimist, and the other was an optimist.

Their mother was worried aboout the boys because each took their outlook on life to the extreme. So one day, she took them to a psychiatrist. The psychiatrist questioned each boy in turn, and then he spoke with the mother. He said, "Bring them both back here in one week, I want to try an experiment."

So the next week the mother brought the two boys back to the psychiatrist. The psychiatrist put each boy in a different room.

He put the pessimist in room filled with toys, games, bowls of candy, cakes, and it even had a soda fountain so he could have ice cream and milkshakes.

Then the psychiatrist put the optimist in a room filled with horse manure as high as the boy's knees.

After an hour, the psychiatrist went to check on them.

He found the pessimist standing just as he had been left in the middle of the room. When the psychiatrist asked why he wasn't taking advantage of all the room had to offer, the boy replied "Well, if I play with the toys, I might break them or get hurt, and if I eat the candy and the cakes and the ice cream, I might eat too much and get a tummy-ache."

Then the psychiatrist checked on the optimist, and boy was there a difference. The optimist was having a ball! He was covered from head to foot in manure. He had been tossing balls of manure against the walls, he had made little "manure-men", and at the moment the psychiatrist walked in the room, he was in the process of making a manure fort. The psychiatrist was shocked, he said to the boy, "What in the world are you doing?" So the little boy replied, "Hey, with all this manure, there's gotta be a pony!"

It's a long way to make a point, but here it is, with all the crap I've been putting up with lately, where the hell is my pony?

Ferrous

Date: Sunday, July 20, 2008
Time: 01:49
Place: Home

I believe irony is a prevailing force in my life.

For instance, many years ago, my father lived in Manhattan on 10th Street and Avenue D. Some years later, during one of the many times I was "misbehaving", he took me and my brother to visit his old neighborhood. The building he have lived in was long since torn down to make way for a tenement. He told both of us, but me mainly, that if we screwed up enough, we would find ourselves living down there.

Cut to a few years later, maybe 1 or 2, and I'm in a group home on St. Marks Place (East 8th Street after 3rd Avenue), between 1st and 2nd Avenue. That's right, not too far from where my father grew up.

The group home had something resembling a library on the 5th Floor. Most guys who lived in the home used the books as doorstops or to hit people whenever a blanket party was being held.

For anyone who does not know, a "Blanket Party" is what is thrown for a person nobody likes. The "guest of dishonor" is covered with a blanket, which is then held down by 2 or more people. Then, the rest of the house take turns hitting the poor slob while he struggles to free himself. Thankfully, I have never been a recipient of a Blanket Party.

Anyway, one day, I was feeling bored, so I went to the shelves to see what was there.

I found an entire trilogy by Michael Moorcock (His "Dancers at the End of Time" series), 2 books by Robert Heinlein (Farnham's Freehold and Glory Road), a book entitled "Twenty Years of Fantasy & Science Fiction (a collection of stories from the magazine, one of which was called "We Can Remember It For You Wholesale", which is what "Total Recall" was based on.), a book entitled "Star of Stars" (which had the story "It's A Good Life" which was turned into a famous episode of "The Twilight Zone"), several other science-fiction novels, and a book of poetry.

The book of poetry was a school textbook. The school in question was Seward Park High School, which my father attended, and it's copyright date was 1934, a year after my father was born, but also the same year my mother was born.

One of the poems is called "Sea-Fever", and it is the favorite poem of Captain Kirk on Star Trek.

I count 5 points of Irony. How many did you get?

Enough Is Too Much!

Date: July 19, 2008
Time: 00:59
Place: Home

The title of this entry is derived from an old Warner Bros. cartoon called I Love to Singa (1936). In this cartoon, there is a family of owls whose children are all classical musicians. However, the youngest hatchling is not, he's into jazz. So the father throws him and he goes to seek his fortune on a radio amateur hour show.

The line is apropos of how I've been feeling about my job lately. In truth, it's always how I feel about my job, but lately it's been worse. I know I'm probably not supposed to be talking about this, but the company I work for was subpoenaed. We have to produce paperwork for the projects we have been involved in for the Port Authority. Now, even though a great deal of our files are in a digital format, one project is not. I have spent the last week or so scanning hard copies of files and saving them in a digital format.

Today, or rather, Friday was one of those days where I wanted to quit. I was trying to work, getting into a rhythm of scanning and filing, when my boss calls. Then I have to get back into the rhythm, and she calls again. I got to the point where the words, "I quit!" wanted to spew forth from my mouth.

But I can't quit. Not just because I need the money, pittance though it is, I don't quit. I don't give up. I may issue a formal notice of surrender, but I do not give up.

Minow Was Right

Date: July 17, 2008
Time: 23:48
Place: Home

In 1961, the Federal Communications Commission elected a new chairman. The man's name was Newton N. Minow (b. 1926).

On May 9, 1961, he addressed the National Association of Broadcasters. The speech was entitled, "Television and the Public Interest". A famous line that has been attributed to that speech was "Television is a vast wasteland." Unfortunately, it is a misquotation. The actual line is in the following excerpt.

When television is good, nothing -- not the theater, not the magazines or newspapers -- nothing is better.

But when television is bad, nothing is worse. I invite each of you to sit down in front of your television set when your station goes on the air and stay there, for a day, without a book, without a magazine, without a newspaper, without a profit and loss sheet or a rating book to distract you. Keep your eyes glued to that set until the station signs off. I can assure you that what you will observe is a vast wasteland.

In this day and age of instant communication and cable television, television stations don't "sign off" anymore. Or at least, not the way they used to. These days, when a particular station is done with their scheduled programming, they turn to what is referred to as "Paid Programming" or as we call it, "infomercials".

But what's worse these days, is what network executives are passing for programming, "reality shows". A 30- to 60-minute melange of insanity, stupidity, and incessant howling.

And that's just the studio audience.

But now, things have gotten completely out of hand. The television network known as TVLand, an offshoot of Nick-At-Nite, is not only airing episodes of "Extreme Home Makeover", but they are now coming out with "original" programs of their own. I'm not going to name them as that would be giving them publicity. Yes, I know I named that other one, but I figured by now, most people have heard of it.

Minow did not foresee the future of television, he was simply stating what he believed to be factual, and at the time he said it. He's still alive, but I doubt very much if he watches television anymore, but if he does, even if it's just the news, I wonder about one thing, does he smile every time he hears the announcer tell what's coming up later, especially when it's a "Special Extended Edition" of "American Idol".

Worse Than That

Date: July 16, 2008
Time: 21:14
Place: Home

Last night I was supposed to make an entry in my blog, but I didn't, I couldn't. I was suffering from a malady worse than Writer's Block.

I was suffering from Incoherency. I couldn't form a coherent thought.

I believe this to be worse than Wrtier's Block for the simple reason that with Writer's Block, you can't think of anything to write, your inspiration is down for the count. Incoherency is worse because your brain can't slow down enough for your thoughts and ideas to latch onto the words you have in your head so they can grow beyond being mere thougths and ideas.

So there I was, with all manner of thoughts and ideas, and I couldn't get them to settle down. I told them stories, I gave them candy, nothing. They just kept running around in my head. So I figured I'd get some sleep and maybe try it again this morning.

Wasn't happening. Sleep, nor settled thoughts were happening.

Therefore, don't let anyone tell you different, Incoherency, while not as well known (or even known as it's an illness I think I just made up) as Writer's Block is worse than Writer's Block.

You Live Where?

Date: Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Time: 01:08:34
Place: Home

Today’s entry is going to be a little different. Today I’m going to list towns and cities in the US with strange names. :-D

Skullbone, TN
Bugscuffle, TN
Bugscuttle, TN
Eighty-eight, WY
Intercourse, PA
Truth or Consequences, NM
Fond du Lac, WI
French Lick, IN
Herkimer, NY
Walla Walla, WA
Defiance, OH
Independence, OH
Cannon, TN

There's a lot more, but these are some of my favorites.

A riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma

Date: Sunday, July 13, 2008
Time: 23:31:38
Place: Home

Every once in a while (read that as “every waking moment”), I ask a question, “Where do I fit in?” What is it that I am meant to do with my life? But sometimes I wonder if I am meant to do anything with my life. Why can’t I figure out what I want to do for a living?
I think it may have something to do with the choices I make. I have a tendency to make the wrong ones more often than I make the right ones. The only trouble with making a right choice is I don’t think I’ve ever really made one. I’ve come to decisions, I’ve voiced ideas, and while it appears to be simple for me to choose what clothes to buy and wear, these are not life-altering choices.

I may have mentioned all of this in an earlier entry, but I think it bears repeating, and if the reader of this entry doesn’t think so, I don’t care.

When I was in Junior High, or, more specifically, Intermediate School, I was asked what I wanted to be after graduating high school. Simple enough question, but I had no simple answer. I didn’t know what I wanted to be, or to do. I had to put something, so I stupidly answered “Physicist”. My mother took one look at it, thought I was serious, and launched into a tirade as to how unlikely that career choice was. Stupid woman. Anyway, back to my fitting in. Just where is it, in the grand scheme of things, do I belong?

The only answer I have is, "I don't know."

I always feel as if I don't belong anywhere. I do a good job where I work, but I don't belong there, I feel I should be doing something else. I do well at school, but I don't belong there either.

I really wish someone could tell me where I'm supposed to be and what I am supposed to be doing. I am sick and tired of these tests with ridiculous answer choices, like you're asked a question, and of the two answers you have to pick either the one you would like to do the most or the one you would like to do the least, and the choices are so moronic as to be pitiful.

Why can't someone create a test that asks about a person's level of creativity?

Maybe they can't, they're probably too busy asking each other what they want to do least, stick with test that tells people nothing, or try something new.

No More

Date: Sunday, July 13, 2008
Time: 00:18
Place: Home

That's it! I'm not going to write about that moron anymore. It's tantamount to the negative press "The Last Temptation of Christ" was given. All of the protests, all of the negative reviews (if any), only served to increase the popularity of the film.

All I've done by giving this so-called pastor recognition is get asked if he's starting workshops or classes.

If he is, I am not part of them, nor would I want to be part of them.

I did not pay for his book, nor did I have it delivered as I do not want to be on his mailing list.

I will continue to write in this blog, but not about him or his works.

Keep Digging

Date: Friday, July 11, 2008
Time: 22:23:23
Place: Home

So I wrote about reading “2008 – G-d’s Final Witness”, and I got a response to my entry. The fellow blogger informed me that the other witness is Weinland’s wife. Quelle surprise! The blogger also gave me a list of websites that debunk Mr. Weinland.
http://ironwolf.dangerousgames.com/forum/index.php http://www.shadowsofwcg.com/weinlandforum/index.php http://ambassadorwatch.blogspot.com/ http://asbereansdid.blogspot.com/ http://www.cogwriter.com/news/ http://dontdrinktheflavoraid.blogspot.com/ http://isitreallytheendtimes.blogspot.com/ http://shadowsofwcg.blogspot.com/ http://weinlandwatch.wordpress.com/

You know what gets me so angry at people like this? It’s how they play on people’s fears. Now, I am the first to admit how afraid I am at the thought of dying. It is a thought I am not overly fond of, in fact, I believe myself to be thanatophobic. The really odd thing about that is there was a time when I contemplated suicide. This is something I don’t normally tell people, but I did consider a couple of times.

I thought that I would fall out of my bedroom window. When you consider that at the time, we lived in a 33-story building, and we lived on the 31st Floor, taking a header out of the window sounds like a workable thing. But I have a tendency not to do anything impulsively. That being the case, I wondered how long it would take to fall. At that time, my brother, who was very good at drawing and painting, used to make paperweights out of rocks. He would draw a picture on a rock, paint it, spray shellac on it, and sell it. So I took the biggest rock I could find in his “collection”, and I weighed it. Then, after making sure nobody was around, I dropped the rock out of the window. Yeah, pretty stupid, but I was doing it for a reason. So I dropped it out the window, and I timed it. I found that it took 15 seconds for it to hit the ground.

What happened next is one of the things that prevented me from going ahead with it. I made a series of calculations, and discovered that it would take me 1.5 seconds to the hit the ground. 1.5 seconds, just did not seem like enough time to pray. The other thing that stopped me from killing myself was the thought of someone being happy when they learned of my passing. I thought that if they were happy, then that meant they didn’t like me, and if they didn’t like me then it was a safe bet that I didn’t like them. All of which meant, if my death would make someone who didn’t like me happy that I was gone, then I would keep living to spite them. Therefore, if my death made them happy, then my continued existence would really make them peeved.

So, what does all of that have to do with Weinland’s so-called “prophecy”? Simple really, mankind just has to keep going past the time he has figured for the end. If we do that and show how wrong he is, imagine how upset he will be. :-D

Unbelievable!

Date: Thursday, July 10, 2008
Time: 22:00:51
Place: Home

I don’t know about anyone else in the class, but I started reading “2008 G-d’s Final Witness” by Ronald Weinland last night, and while I only got as far as page 7, I gotta tell ya, the man is nuts! He purports himself to be one of the two people that G-d is allegedly supposed to allow to witness the end of the world. So far, he doesn’t say who the other person is supposed to be, I gather that he’ll get into that later on.

Now, I love reading, I’ve even bought the New York Post when I was stuck for something to read. But this rhetorical nonsense, I wouldn’t read on a dare, a bet, or with a gun to my head or a combination of any or all three at once. Yes, I know, I only got as far as page 7, but then, I did a little research on Mr. Weinland. I found out that he is a pastor for “G-d’s Church on Earth”, and not only that, but its full name is “G-d’s Church on Earth – Preparing for the Kingdom of G-d. (For those of you reading this that may not know, I am of the Jewish faith, and while I’m not a practicing Jew, I still write G-d’s name the way I’ve been taught and the way my grandmother always wrote it.)

In any event, here are two websites for the man: http://www.cog-pkg.org/ and http://www.ronaldweinland.com/

Make no mistake, even though I think it's simply more of the same tripe we've heard before, I’ll continue to read the thing, but only because it was assigned, and that beats a dare, a bet and a gun to my head.

End of the World

Date: July 9, 2008
Time: 18:47
Place: DeVry Lab

Most people, when they talk about “The End of the World”, they usually think about no more life on the planet, with the exception of maybe just the cockroaches.

When I think about the end of the world, I think about Dystopia. For those who may not know what a Dystopia is, Merriam Webster refers to it as “an imaginary place where people lead dehumanized lives”. Literature, and therefore film, is littered with stories about dystopian societies and worlds.

Take for example, “Fahrenheit 451”, a somewhat futuristic society where books, and reading is outlawed, firemen are charged with burning books that they find, and people do much of nothing else all day except watch television and take drugs to keep them happy.

Then you have the 1927 classic film “Metropolis” by Fritz Lang. Society is divided right down the middle, the workers, and the city planners. The video by the rock group Queen uses many images and scenes from that film in their video to the song, “Radio Ga-Ga”. There is one almost iconic scene showing the workers going off one shift, and another group going on. Their faces are blank, their movements are almost robotic.

But, if you really want to talk about dehumanization, then you have to talk about the film version of “Planet of the Apes” (1968). The screenplay was written by Rod Serling of “Twilight Zone” fame, which is why there is the twist of the astronaut Taylor, played by the late Charlton Heston, finding the Statue of Liberty half-buried in the sand. In the film, for those that may not remember, human beings were treated like animals, herded and hunted for sport and for experimentation.

Dystopia, maybe it is an imaginary place, but then again, maybe not.