On Shorts and Things

No, not skivvies, I’m talking short stories.

A few weeks ago, I proposed a get together with one of my great friends, that is to pop over and commit acts of writing. In this instance, have a go at some short stories.

We have both been interested in writing for the longest time. In fact we both have blogs, and have both tried our hand at producing works of fiction. My friend and I are so completely different on so many levels, yet we found common ground on our most basic human qualities. Nevertheless, we are both fighting the same demon it seems: motivation.

I’ve stated quite a few times in this very blog that motivation is what escapes me most as a writer. I seem to have plenty of ideas, some of them even creative in nature. I’ve been observing my friend’s process, and his creative process never ceases to amaze me. He is nothing short of a genius at it. As a point of reference to back up my claim, he is actually terrific at improvisation, and I’ve seen him in action.

I can produce text at a rather incredible pace, but he can produce ideas much faster than I can compile. When we are together we encourage each other, we play off each other so very well, we get some mojo going and we are eager to write. We do make a good creative pair.

For weeks now I’ve been looking forward to seeing him for both as a friend and as a primer. We’ve been working at this short story concept since last night. I’ve been my usual resistive self, but the enthusiasm we’ve managed to generate is, low and behold, impressive to me. I knew it was a good idea to invite him over.

This morning we started on a short story about a typical day in a poor schlep’s workaday life. Boy did that bring back memories. My buddy has been typing away furiously all the while we’re debating and distilling this “crap”. The onus is to write a 2000 words short of creative realism with no regard for quality, hence the crap. The mission is to finish this one story as an exercise, or more probably exorcism.

I am marvelling at how this is developing, which is a good indication to me on how I do love writing and the creative process such as it is.

So it seems by working together we’ve easily vanquished the original motivation demon. It’s not all rosy mind you, as after a couple hours of intense work, we’ve come to a bump in the road, a wall of sorts. This is where the going gets tough.

I’ve noticed this phenomenon on many occasions, throughout many disciplines actually, not just writing. Athletes talk of a second wind, which is a valid analogy. Others speak of stamina or having “go getter”. Regardless of the term used, it seems clear to me that there are two stages, at least, to producing something non trivial.

Many times I’ve heard, “the blank page is the writer’s worst enemy.” This may be true in a sense, but oddly enough, the blank page has never been an issue for me.

Back in grade school we were directed to write short stories, or projects, or some form of research. This was maybe a bi-weekly assignment so getting stuck on a blank page was quickly overcome as a matter of course. Hell I can fill a blank page with nonsense faster than anyone I know.

So no, the blank page isn’t my issue, and never has been. Continued creation is. When I ask myself the question, “where will this go?” I falter. “Where am I going with this?” is a death knell. Maybe the solution isn’t to ask, although that has proven time and again to lead to unfinished stories.

No, indeed that second wind has to be something of an effort, but what kind? By god this one is continually elusive, even to the most positive people. How many positiveniks have stopped just short of finishing something because of loss of interest? It’s no longer fun, or “what’s the point”, or moved on to other things. Endgame motivation? Oh great, now I’ve stumbled upon another phase of the work. Say third wind?

I’ve never run a marathon, so I’ve never subjected myself to the 2 or 3 or more hours of gruelling physical and mental challenge this brings. But I do know intimately the sense of loneliness and isolation that occurs just before catching that second wind, just before getting into “the zone”, where training, or habit, or force majeure, or determination, or pigheadedness plays a major role. I know intimately too the sense of having to keep going “just because”. In that blind spot, you lose track of time, sense of self even. Basically, you’re high. Runners know exactly what I’m talking about. Those adept at Tai-Chi as well. Believe it or not, writing is the same.

You can get into a zone where words pour out of your mind into a computer, or pen and paper, or Dictaphone, and you look up to take a breath and you’re already clocking over 873 somehow. You’ve made it through those first hurdles and you pat yourself on the back. But there are still 1127 words to go from when you last counted and then you become a little depressed knowing you aren’t even half way.

What’s the point? you ask yourself and all your little foibles come haunting.

The first is so obvious as to often be overlooked. “What if it’s crap?” This one we were wise enough to disarm before we got started, thank goodness, because it’ll stop you dead in your tracks if you let it. Oh sure you can convince yourself that it isn’t crap, that it may be worthy to read down the road, but you’ve already mined yourself.

We are taught to do our best, always. “What if my best isn’t good enough?” True talent takes a kick in the teeth with this one. On the other hand the truly talented and the truly talentless seem to have a knack for never asking themselves this one question. Funny how that seems to work out.

“What if no one likes it?” For a writer of any genre, that’s a death sentence right there. If no one likes the novel, it won’t get sold, if no one likes the poem it won’t be inspiring, if no one likes the short story it won’t get published, if no one likes the blog it… well… anyway.

“What ifs” are the domain of fear. Fear of inadequacies long instilled in us since childhood and beyond. Fear of real life failures that we’ve had difficulty in overcoming. Fear of punishment real or imagine, either by ourselves or others: rejection!

Psshaaw! No fear but fear itself! Yeah, but not quite.

Creative writing is much like having a child, but with the small caveat of external approval. It never enters a mother’s thought that her child could be rejected by the world at large. Not for a single moment! Yet for a writer this is a very real possibility, the fear is genuine and totally justified. A novel, for instance, is a labour of love. It can take years to develop and edit, and with a single bland note, can be rejected off hand!

The writer has poured heart and soul into creating this work of art, it is very much like a baby. Push comes to shove a mom can always say, “I don’t care, this is my child and I love him/her.” The reality for a writer is somewhat different. The endgame in that act of creation is to get published. Yeah, you can always publish yourself, but that doesn’t count for much, in fact it is frowned upon by publishers and does not count as any kind of writing credit and doesn’t count at all in trying to get a job as a writer in any publication. I other words, someone else has to give you approval. Always. Argh!

If as in this instance we are writing for the sheer hell of it, producing crap as an exercise, then the rejection is somewhat diminished since the goal doesn’t lend itself to the subject of rejection. It is, thankfully, a clear defence mechanism used to sidestep and get some words down. Kudos to for empowering ourselves!

So we keep writing. But then comes time for that third wind. The end is in sight, but much to far away tom contemplate. Say at 1441 words, the next 559 prove to be difficult, more so than seems possible a moment ago when you were still in “the zone”. At this point, you’ve expended all your ideas, you energy is waning, but still you must keep going. You don’t actually know why, except that was the goal you set out.

But, but, but, I’m not a goal oriented person! Fundamentally I hate goals. I actually despise the whole concept or having to set goals. It entails the stigma of failure if it isn’t reached. In my not so humble opinion, the premise of the goal was invented to sate the appetite of people like my sister and brother in law, who are ultimately competitive by their very nature. Indeed many of these people cannot fathom those who aren’t! The solution to everything is “you start by setting a goal…”

Yeah, NO! I just hate that. I understand it all too well being a former technical manager was the mainstay of my diet for too many years. On the other hand, I don’t have a good alternative, and find this to be arguably even more frustrating than setting a goal in the first place.

Then there’s that truly worthless exercise that we learn in corporate surroundings, that when you get to an impass, declare victory and move on. Seriously, how the hell can you just “declare victory”? There definition of victory is: achievement of mastery, blah blah… see that word “achievement” there? If there ain’t achievement, then there ain’t victory is there? No victory, no goal… boneheaded mutherf… !

And thus, as one can easily tell from the above, I get to my fallback device for completing a task. Anger. I’ve talked about this in previous blogs, a potent device if there ever was one, but which comes at a serious emotional cost, no matter how reigned in you think it is. But I don’t have an easy, or hard, alternative. Motivation is such a fleeting bitch.

I’m at 1774 now and that previous chunk of anger is already expended. I could fire up some more, but unfortunately, it is logarithmic in nature. That is to say its effectiveness is cut in half every time it is used. It might be enough to just finish something like a short story, but would leave one frustrated because, of course, I’ve now failed to motivate myself in a clean and wholesome manner, haven’t I?

So anger isn’t the ultimate answer either. At this point I’m pushing myself, as I have done for so many years, just to see it all through, just because. (See how that last bit of anger wells up again but isn’t quite as effective?)

Deciding to write a blog about this process, the emotions and what really goes on throughout such a seemingly simple task as a short story seemed like the thing to do. I’m not quite sure why I did that. Maybe it’s comeuppance, or maybe it was just to make myself feel good about the exercise? I don’t know. Not that I haven’t looked for an answer, have I ever though! Foibles, fears and all questing for a holy grail of motivation. Maybe like the holy grail it is the work of a lifetime.

And then maybe, just then, you have to take a beating and say "ah fuck it.”

Been too long and Haunting

Holy crap, I've not posted anything since June, already!

Oddly enough my last two posts have generated more traffic than all my other blog entries combined since the beginning!

Just goes to show I guess. Techies unite!

That's all okay now since I've taken a shine to my iPhone since I've mostly resolved the issues I had. A sad chapter indeed.

On a more positive note, I must confess that I am just as exasperated with the world-at-large as always, but not quite so angry of late. I'm guessing this is a good thing, although the "very stupid" (tm) still need slapping upside the head they don't read my blog anyway, and if they did, they wouldn't get it.

Today I am compelled to write after this long hiatus if only for sign of life. Befitting, I think, since last week I went through a bit of a rough patch. All is well now, at least as well as can be expected.

Fellow bloggers were each stating abandonment issue with their respective blogs recently. Something about a two-year mark in one case. To me this hypothesis holds water, in fact, methinks a summer full of rain doesn't help the creative juices either, as it were.

I read over a few of my older blogs, and this led me to think about, about staying power. For example my blogs about the iPhone will see their relevancy expire eventually, in effect this knowledge has a past-due date.

In a roundabout way and on a much grander scale this got me to the subject of historical staying power.

This weekend friends and I were discussing historical events that mark us and our daily lives. Don't ask how we got onto that subject.

The subject eventually turned towards big brother watching us. I've talked a little of this before.

In this instance the analysis went towards what historical events molded my generation's thoughts on big-brother inherently being a "bad thing"™. Today's youngsters have no qualms about sharing the very core of their lives on facebook or twitter and what not.

I don't actually remember McCarthy's red menace shenanigans, I wasn't born yet. Nevertheless, it was an influencing factor in my childhood that one should be careful whom one associates with. This is good advice anyway, but the point is made that something so simple as having coffee with a co-workers speaking their minds can have adverse effect on your very livelihood should the gubmint or special interest group decide take exception.

No one in the current generation of youngsters even knows about McCarthyism, nor cares, not even as lessons of the past, because obviously this could never happen again.

Of cooooooooourse not!

How quickly we forget, regardless of the fact that it happens time and again throughout history. Wonder where the term: "witch hunt" comes from? Doh!

Yeah, but that was all really just local phenomenon was it not?

Ok, so how about on a truly grand scale, just offhand: Jews and Jewish sympathizers leading up to and throughout WW2.

And thus we moved on to the subject of the Second World War, which is still relevant to us, especially given that there are people alive today who remember it directly.

As I mentioned previously, I asked my nieces once, now 25 & 27, if they knew about this thing called the WW2, all I got was blank stares. Then one of them chimed in, "waitaminit, the second?"

My hopes were dashed but lifted at the same time. At least she'd realized there were two of them, although knew nothing about either.

Hmmm, staying power indeed.

I was talking about the Apollo missions with others of a younger generation, again blank stares. Just shook my head. One saving grace at least they didn't say, "it never happened."

So I made a statement at the breakfast table that 9/11 was going to be the defining moment of this generation of young people today. I also submitted that their kids will know a little about it, but this will also fade in time, as much as we may hate to admit it.

But the kids born 10 to 20 years from now will give us blank stares upon mention of 9/11 when they reach the age of reasoning. That'll be about 50 years after the event, which is roughly the same timeframe as WW2 and my nieces, give or take a decade.

But really who cares about an old chunk of history? It doesn't affect me here and now does it? So why should I care? I remember those exact words coming out of my own mouth when I didn't want to study history in high-school.

What the teachers failed to drill home was the ramifications of these events in our everyday lives. Cause and effect were never clearly laid out. Maybe that wasn't part of the curriculum as this could lead to some serious discussion, probably heated at that, actually more than likely outright belligerence as everybody's interpretation of historical cause and effect is different, and indeed usually much more complicated than not.

Yeah, we just can't be having that kind of debate in schools. This simply would not do at all. It would skew way too much unilateral dogma.

Now, to get back to those kids that will be born in 2020: where privacy will no longer be relevant in their minds and indeed contrary to the public good. Will they have the hindsight to know why they are growing up in a policed state?

I submit that they will accept and indeed cherish their civil liberties being curtailed to a point past any relevant definition of the word freedom. They will welcome being observed 24-7 as to them it would be unconscionable not to be watched, under this new dogma of security that we are, even now, in the process of refining.

Hell kids today not only don't miss having any privacy, it is wholly irrelevant to them. Privacy is something they neither understand nor care about really. I will likely debate this again in another blog entry.

The point I'm trying to make, is that they will have absolutely no idea that the concept of liberty, privacy, and freedom, came to a crux because of a terrorist attack on a date represented by a couple of numbers that will mean nothing to them.

Major events in history fade, but the ramifications on the other hand do have staying power.

I know this is a repetition of some things I have touched on before, but for some reason it seems to haunt me.

 

Voice Dial options for iPhone 3G

*** NEW LATE BREAKING NEWS - Proper Procedure for BlueAnt V1 @ v5.3 and iPhone G @ OS 3.0 ***

BlueAnt Tech support supplied me with a procedure, so I am paraphrasing below the procedure which has worked for me! (Kyle has described another method in the comments section below the post)

1) Put on the V1 then:

2) Ensure the V1 is in Idle mode - switched ON but not connected to any phone,

3) then click BAB - multi function button - and say “settings menu” then, “reset the V1”.

4) Then turn off the V1. (Good luck with this, I couldn't turn it off, but anyway...)

5) On the IPhone: remove the profile for the V1 on the IPhone by selecting “unpair”.

6) Then remove all numbers in favorites list and turn the IPhone Off and On (I did a hard-power off, that is top/sleep button and menu button at the same time, then slide to turn off)

7) Then pair the V1 with the IPhone and...

8) repopulate the favorites list.

...and Bob is your uncle.

So my original post below stands.

=> original post:

We all know this now, that the iPhone 3G does NOT do voice dial directly from the operating system, even with the new OS 3.0. This is a feature reserved only for the 3GS.

A quick key-word search will make this painfully clear, extremely painful in fact if you didn't have the foresight to check BEFORE you bought your iPhone 3G, which probably lead you here.

Despair not, there are some possibilities:

If it is illegal in your region to handle your phone while driving, like it is for me, I have found the following workaround, while incomplete, does the basics of what I need.

The BlueAnt V1 Voice Controlled Headset. It's not a cheap date though.

When pressing the BlueAnt button on the V1 it accesses the favourites list in the iPhone in the order they're laid out for its speed-dialling feature. Sort your 9 favourites in the proper order and Bob's your uncle. Like I said, this is enough for most of my calls, but there's no navigating through all your contacts.

Speed Dial slot #5, on the V1, is reserved for GOOG-411. So your favourite #5 becomes speed-dial slot #6. No biggy, just have to keep that in mind when putting the list in order.

Downloadable apps from iTunes (as of June 18^th, 2009):

Keep in mind that all the apps suggested below require handling of the phone in order to dial, so no Bluetooth access. Personally I can't and won't use any of them while driving. Your own mileage may vary, so check your local laws, and sort out for yourself how dangerous you want to be when driving.

Fonix iSpeak - This one was recommended to me when I squeezed Rogers Wireless for a workaround to what I consider the no-voice dialling design flaw of the 3G.

There are also: Say Who LITE, Vlingo, Voice This from HRL, AdelaVoice Voice Dialer. There may be others.

I honestly had never even thought to check the iPhone for voice dialing capability; it just seemed so obvious a feature to have, but that is completely my bad. So I write this in the hope that I can help some of you out there who are frustrated with this, and maybe with themselves for not checking either.

iPhone 3G does NOT Voice Dial

=> Click here for voice dial options for the 3G <=)

I bought an iPhone 3G a month ago – actually, one month and one day precisely.

I was looking to replace a really old Palm Pilot V and a p.o.s. Samsung mobile with a single device, and if there were games and videos on it, all the better.

I really wanted a Blackberry, but Bell wouldn't budge on the data-plan that I had to have with it. That is I had to fork over $70 a month. I don't want or need a data plan, and am not prepared to spend the extra 1000$ for the privilege. So I went with Rogers and got the iPhone instead at 40$/mo for three years.

To be honest, I'm a little excited about getting an iPod-like Apple device, as I've heard really glowing reviews about these things.

I quickly discover, however, that the iPhone has one major drawback – it doesn't do voice dial!

This is really a requirement in Quebec where provincial law states that you aren't allowed to mess with your phone while driving. You can talk as long as you aren't holding anything in your hand.

Given that it's really a high-end mobile device, I figured haplessly and without checking that it would obviously have voice dial. To my great chagrin I find it doesn't. Not a big deal, Apple is supposed to have a software update that fixes this particular problem. I wait patiently.

On the eve of 30-day expiration, while I am having supper with friends, the news comes out that the software fix for voice-dialling will not apply to the older 3G phones, making my brand new month-old phone an obsolete boat anchor in the process.

The iPhone 3G will never have voice dial because the software update, the OS 3.0, which has the voice dial feature does not apply to the 3G. The new one, the iPhone 3GS coming out in a week, does have the voice dial feature activated.

Now I'm stuck for 3 years with a major feature design flaw, which feature that I really, really wanted and that was in fact a deal breaker, if I had known.

It is entirely my fault for not checking. I have no one to blame but myself. Nevertheless I am still livid.

I call Future Shop where I am told to fuck off, in no uncertain terms. 30 days is 30 days, but maybe I can call Rogers to plead my case.

Rogers tells me to fuck off in no uncertain terms.

The worst part is that a little voice in my brain was telling me not to buy it right away. But I dismissed it as a long-ago grudge against Apple products.

I had major difficulties with activating the account, I had to visit Future Shop 2 days in a row, and then some issues with acquiring some of the accessories.

For some obscure reason I dismissed all this karma and was hell bent on buying the thing for some utterly stupid use: I just wanted a little entertainment for myself while working at the motocross track this summer.

To make matters worse still, a little over a week ago, someone broke into my truck and stole the car-adaptors for it.

And this week, my beloved iPhone has transmission issues where the party with whom I am trying to speak hear nothing but static. I can hear them just fine.

I shake my head.

For the longest time in my career as a system administrator I would refuse to support Macintoshes, another delightful Apple product, because they were by and large unsupportable in the traditional sense. And now I get bit in the ass by Apple and for the very same reason I refused to support their gear in the past.

I guess they got me in the end, didn't they?

That'll teach me to be magnanimous, in trying to be open minded and give-the-guy-a-chance.

Passive Murder

I am moved. Or possibly will have a bowel movement. The upsetting thingy of the day, nay past couple of weeks, is religious freedom and state interference.

I have been following a couple of stories in recent news of parents killing their offspring.

The first was about parents not seeking medical attention for their diabetic daughter, Madeline Kara Neumann of 11 years. The District Attorney of Marathon County, Wisconsin, is considering pressing charges for manslaughter. The gruesome details are simple: the girl was in diabetic shock for several days while the parents prayed on. In fact the little girl was displaying signs of type-1 diabetes for a full month before her death. Relatives did try to intercede on the girl's behalf, while the parents refused medical treatment for their daughter, and prayed on.

This is one of these standard-strict interpretation religions whereas they substitute medicine for prayer.

This reminds me of an old "joke":

'Heavy rains are flooding a low lying area. TV reports of imminent flooding and authorities broadcast an evacuation advisory.

'Our hero decides to stay with his homestead.

'The police show up at his door and enjoin our man to evacuate, to which he replies: "it's the will of God, he will save me."

'After a fashion his first floor gets flooded, our man climbs up to the second floor. The fire department shows up in a dingy to rescue our hero. He refuses. "The will of God, he will save me!" he says.

'Hours later, as he is sitting on his roof praying for salvation, Search and Rescue arrive in a chopper. But again he refuses.

'The man drowns.

'He gets to heaven, and of course, he is very severely pissed at God.

'"God why have you forsaken me? I've been devout and yet you didn't save me!"

'God is totally exasperated, and replies: "Good grief man! I broadcast an evacuation, sent you the cops, a boat and a fucking chopper! What the hell else did you want me to do?"

Sometimes God doesn't act all that mysteriously.

Anyway back to our religious fanatics, I'm all for religious beliefs, sure. But I also figure there should be a very special kind of hell reserved for parents who torture and kill their children even passively. I do hope Wisconsin throws the book at them.

Now this all gets more interesting, in other news:

There's a 13-year old boy, on the lam with him mom, who is refusing chemo for Hodgkin's lymphoma. He believes in alternate medicines as his parents have duly taught him. The reports I've read say he has a 95% chance of making a full recovery with chemo, yet refusing this treatment on religious beliefs.

This story is a little more proactive in nature. The courts have actually ordered this child to live. Mom is now in contempt and has an arrest warrant out on her sorry ass.

Be it known that I actually find it reprehensible that courts could override a parent's determination of their child's care. The state has no business interfering in the family nucleus, but then I also feel neither does the church! Case in point, if the film Evelyn with Pierce Brosnan is anything to go on, it's one of the reasons America founded separation of church and state.

I think my views on state-control are well known at this point.

Unfortunately I have to come to the conclusion that it is sometimes necessary for the authorities to step in. While never ideal, if it's a child's last hope, it's certainly better than nothing. Keyword there: "last hope".

I fear there's no way to prevent pre-emptive strikes by the state to presumably save children that don't actually need it and thereby destroying families in the process. I am certainly torn on the subject, but with yahoos willing to murder their kids by denying modern medicines I start to praise that which I hate.

Back to our 13-year-old hero.

He's not yet allowed to drive.

He's not yet allowed to drink.

Technically he's not yet allowed to screw (depending on state laws, granted).

But apparently he's allowed decision of life and death?

He's allowed to commit suicide?

Actually, there's the rub.

Many years ago, I think it was in high-school, we received some sensitization training on teen-suicide. I don't remember much of it now, but something did stick in my brain for a long time afterwards.

It was the question on the legality of suicide.

Where I lived suicide was actually a crime. My young brain was baffled.

For one thing, if you are dead, what the hell difference does it make if it's a crime? You don't go to jail. Furthermore, if you miss yourself does that mean you get your ass hauled off to jail on an attempted crime, whereas it seemed to me a trip to the psych ward would probably be a better investment.

As I grew older I began to understand the ramifications of making suicide a crime. It meant assisted suicide becomes a crime too! This is a safeguard of sorts against taking of a life and passing it off.

In this case, some pundits are saying 'if the boy wants to kill himself… blah, blah'. Technically, the boy is not actually allowed to kill himself now is he? This would be a crime! Something seemingly snaky now starts to make sense.

Other pundits are spouting 'dying with dignity… blah, blah'. To this I respond that a 13-year-old is unequivocally incapable of making that decision. If you are 50 years old pain ridden with 10% chance of survival, then yes, the quality of the life you have left by refusing treatment should very much be your own choice.

Here is something the pundits are wont to remember: magical thought. Children, except the very gifted, and I say gifted guardedly, don't understand their own death. Indeed that very concept doesn't really sink in until the early twenties, sometimes much later. Children just don't get that they can die. Their brains just can't compute it.

They do understand sick though.

What I'm thinking is that the 13-year-old boy is making a case with his mom about not wanting to be sick, he's just not fathoming death. Mom is a true-believer and his refusing treatment, no matter the reason, plays into her believer-hand perfectly.

I've talked about the issue I have with people who can't tell the difference between what they believe and what is fact. This is a perfect representation of that conundrum.

Mom believes in faith healing. I can't fault that.

But then I believe in science.

This means that my position will be that of proven fact as can be demonstrated by scientific method or, hell dare I say it, statistics.

My logical will say this: given the child can't make an elucidated decision, then treatment must be mandated and such or such treatment is chosen because it has a track record of being valid and successful. Of course then I add upon this my own empirical evidence of my family and friends saved by the very chemo that would save this child and it's pretty clear cut to me.

But faith isn't about logic, is it?

Faith is about, well, potentially defying logic and being at peace with it. Ok I get that, I really do.

I've been thinking about this blog for several days now, and I still haven't come to a comfortable conclusion.

I don't want the state to decide in lieu of enlightened family decision.

• But what is enlightened?
  

I don't think anyone should impose their religious beliefs on another, especially when it comes to decisions of life and death.

• But logic is itself a dogma of sorts too isn't it? And therefore I am guilty of imposing it!
  

Leave it to the experts, the doctors, etc. to council on what's best.

• But expertise is based on who you believe and why. Many don't trust doctors believing they're just in it for the money! Many don't trust the clergy for reasons that are just as obvious albeit more personal. So who's to say which is right?
  

Maybe there's a middle ground here someplace? How about traditional treatment now, and when the kid is 18 he can then decide to off himself if he feels that strongly about it.

Hmmm. I think I'm about to get vociferous again.

The bottom line is that religious zealots are all about holding God (and others) hostage aren't they?

It's about imposing your faith on your child and praying that he or she survives the imposition. But worse in my book it's making light of life on earth in favour of an afterlife, but deciding for someone else! So my question is: how do you hold faith accountable?

The word belief was chosen carefully in the above statements. Belief is interpretation of fact, which is based on one's own experience…

 

"Good grief man! I send you scientific evidence, send you doctors, chemo and fucking logic! What the hell else do you want me to do?"

Bailout Greens

In these times of eco-troubles, we are trying to balance economy with the environment, often at odds. We don't seem to have clear view of better times, and does that view include greener solutions? You can be ecological all you want when you can afford it. Keep this in mind for a minute.

I was thinking about Beloved Barrack's gambit of putting the screws to the automakers for the People's Loan.

More power to him.

Then I thought if I were the typical arrogant automaker of old, see how I'm giving them the benefit of the doubt here, I'd be looking for financing where the attached strings aren't cramping my style. So I'm thinking to myself in my Japanese-made S.U.V. on my way to my shrink, who would have the kind of money for a bailout of the magnitude we're talking about here? When the Boss-man of the richest country in the world is taking you to task, you have to wonder how grim your state of affairs really is.

It comes to me: who has money enough to buy God with an Amex?

The oil companies.

In these times of hardship, they are still making a killing, so to speak. So why is it, exactly, that the oil companies aren't fronting up the cash for the automakers?

Remember my first statement in this post?

For one thing, the eco-world would have an unholy fit I'm sure, and for obvious reasons.

But then the debt that Blessed-Barrack and other world leaders are incurring to recover the economy will come out of our taxes for the next several generations, I'm thinking a hundred years, maybe more.

And the loan to save some 1/2 million jobs and an intrinsic way of life is part of this debt.

But that particular way of life isn't exactly green. More cars? Fuel efficient? Hmm, I must refer to the arrogance of bad-old GM for instance which destroyed the EV-1 Impact full-electric vehicles.

And as the Indians are aspiring to a safer mode of individual transportation, Tata comes under fire for wanting to produce cheap gas lawnmower-engined vehicles to replace the family motorcycle. Of course the eco-world is all dead set against the Indians putting all those cheap cars on the road, but we certainly want to keep our own auto industry alive. Huh?

So you can go green or you can save a way of life, but it seems you can't do both. Or maybe there is?

Maybe Bailout-Barrack should put the screws onto the automakers: they get the cash only for alternate-fuel designed cars!

Nah.

Retrofitting American compacts would probably put them at around $67,000 each and they would still be cheap, unreliable crap.

Stupid Iz

Note: I apologize up front for the style of this post, ie. the use of "double quotes", (parenthesis), ->little arrows<-, shouting in CAPS, etc. I hate bowing down to these simplistic graphic vehicles in my written language, but this morning I'm just too tired to expend the energy for it. In effect, this is a departure from the self-imposed perfection I was talking about in my Deserve Well post! We'll get back to proper grammar and writing style for my next post.

 

Just the other day I was debating genetics of stupidity. My grandma sometimes said: « Il y a des gens qui sont née sans-desseins, c'est pas leur faute, ils sont nées comme ca. »

It's one of these dictums that cannot be translated directly, but a loose translation would be: "Some people are born without mental wherewithal, it's not their fault, they're just born that way."

I desperately try not to judge based on mental acuity. Operative word: "try", since I typically fail miserably when confronted with utter stupidity. (oops! So much for not judging.)

Anyway, I was a manager once, long ago. During this time I made the realization that everyone in an organization has different strengths and weaknesses. Some could be developed, others leveraged, and others avoided. Mental acuity was just one of many qualities needed in the type of job we were doing. Steadfastness and patience was another easy one. Social skills were de rigueur, being in customer service, etc.

Seldom was outright idiocy displayed however. Usually seemingly idiotic decisions were often explained by hidden agendas once brought to light, or simple ignorance of some facts, or just hadn't realized some important element. So I came to the natural conclusion that bad decisions weren't necessarily akin to stupidity and looking deeper, if I so had the time and inclination, would yield a different point of view.

Intelligence is measured in many different ways. For instance there's: book smart, street smart, troubleshooters (white box or black box), associative, creative, science, theology, Mensa, mentalist, sales, marketing, and even manipulative. The list goes "on-dan-don" as Céline would say.

Some are adept at situational analysis and others still at survival, among others.

Given all the possibilities, I came to the conclusion in my recent discussion, that everyone had the "wherewithal" gene, whether it be recognized or not. While some may not choose to use it, or may not have been shown how, it is there nevertheless. I chose to exclude outright mental disabilities from the equation.

As per scientific methodology: observation -> conjecture -> hypothesis -> test and cycle, I was ultimately coming to the theory that a "smart" gene existed in everyone.

And then all of a sudden as if by magic, coincidence, happenstance, or design, I get a flood of examples of people seemingly just too stupid to live. I'm thinking my hypothesis may need looking at. I give you today a misguided, distraught and so very, very screwed young woman (I'm not saying "lady", as that would be a serious stretch! You'll see why in a minute.)

In a nutshell, she's in the middle of a custody battle with her ex, for their kid. As so many people are having to play this game nowadays, she's looking for ammo to discredit him. I'm not sure if she had the brainstorm herself or if it came from someone else, but I have to admire the initiative, well sort of anyway.

She has her laptop brought into the police station, claiming her ex had left child porn on it, and if they could find it, this would be evidence that he's an unfit father. A sound plan, right up until the cops find a couple of videos, in the recycle-bin on her desktop, of her engaging in sexual activities with a dog! (Go ahead, read that last sentence again slowly.)

Ok, not my cup of tea, but I'm still trying not to judge remember?

But then the sorry bitch admits to the bestiality felony, this is AFTER the cops have informed her of her Fifth-amendment rights and that the videos contained evidence of a felony. Furthermore she compounds the problem in admitting she was drunk at the time (and she's on probation for this!), and just for shits and giggles admits to trying to destroy the evidence thereby making the point for the cops that she's perfectly aware that what she did, even then, was wrong. Serving her own ass on a silver platter.

I realize that she may be in distress over the custody battle, that she has blinders on, and that she is focused solely on trying to stick it to her ex… but jesus-h-christ-on-a-popsicle-stick!

Too stupid to live? You decide.

Here's the article from The Smoking Gun, including the police affidavit: The Smoking Gun "Porn Sting Goes to the Dogs"

I'm certainly giving my hypothesis the evil eye now! I'm thinking some mutations may have occurred.