Blog number 101 July 22, 2007
A few years back I was walking down J. Street in Sacramento and I happened to look up into the top of one of the elms that lined the street. There, on an uppermost branch, I saw a red tailed hawk with his beak stretched skyward, a bony hair covered squirrel tail disappearing down his outstretched throat.
What did that piece of hair and bones taste like? Why would ANYTHING eat something like that? Did it taste good to him? I couldn't believe that. I got to wondering if some animals ate due to something besides taste.
Yesterday I was thinking something about humans being a pattern of patterns in relation to my reading habits and my walking habits. I can't remember the exact trail that my mind took, and I didn't have my recorder with me, so that part is probably lost to posterity. Anyway, this led me to thinking about that hawk and his squirrel lunch - or was it brunch? It was about ten thirty in the AM. Brunch. Yes?
I then thought about snakes eating eggs, which I have thought about periodically ever since I first heard they did that, and once again, I wondered why it tasted good to them. I mean, all they could taste would be calcium minerals. Right? But then, in this train of thought about patterns of patterns, I thought, "maybe it is the heat of the food that they like. Snakes don't eat food they find - only fresh killed.
Maybe it is the warmth of the eggs from the mother bird sitting on them that peaks his epicurean taste and allows him to also swallow a dead rat, tasting nothing but hair and crap all the way to the gizzard."
I wish I had thought of this back when I was taking Experimental Psychology.
Do hawks eat found food?
Sunday, July 22, 2007
Saturday, July 21, 2007
Did it happen or did it not?
Blog number ONE HUNDRED! July 21, 2007
I think I got stung by a scorpion yesterday, maybe by two. I reached into a patch of dichondra (a lawn "grass"), pulling long stemmed thistles, and I felt two sharp "zings" on my thumb. Both zings occurred at the same time.
The stings were not from the thistles, as I was pulling them with my bare hands, so I know what those felt like. I always just ignore them. They are like a rough patch of wood or something. These were more like a bee sting, only very much less pain - which is exactly the description I once read of a scorpion sting years ago. Now, there is a scorpion, the "Black Scorpion," I think it is called, that emits a much more powerful hurt. But most species give this low-powered "bee sting."
I had two tiny red dots on my thumb, spaced like a rattlesnake bite. So maybe it was that. Just kidding.
I think I got stung by a scorpion yesterday, maybe by two. I reached into a patch of dichondra (a lawn "grass"), pulling long stemmed thistles, and I felt two sharp "zings" on my thumb. Both zings occurred at the same time.
The stings were not from the thistles, as I was pulling them with my bare hands, so I know what those felt like. I always just ignore them. They are like a rough patch of wood or something. These were more like a bee sting, only very much less pain - which is exactly the description I once read of a scorpion sting years ago. Now, there is a scorpion, the "Black Scorpion," I think it is called, that emits a much more powerful hurt. But most species give this low-powered "bee sting."
I had two tiny red dots on my thumb, spaced like a rattlesnake bite. So maybe it was that. Just kidding.
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
AND...?
Blog number ninety-nine July 12, 2007
Went with Teresa to the dentist, while there I was reading an article in the National Geographic. It was about regeneration of tissues. Supposedly scientists had caused a chicken to regenerate the tip of a wing.
The last sentence in the article went something like wasn't it wonderful that we are now able to regenerate blood, veins, all the organs. And then the very last sentence of the whole article contained two words. They were, "Except lips."
Why, of ALL the organs, were lips exempted? And why, in this "scientific" article in a "scientific" magazine, was not the exemption elaborated upon? Explained? Huh?
Do I expect too much? Is that it?
Went with Teresa to the dentist, while there I was reading an article in the National Geographic. It was about regeneration of tissues. Supposedly scientists had caused a chicken to regenerate the tip of a wing.
The last sentence in the article went something like wasn't it wonderful that we are now able to regenerate blood, veins, all the organs. And then the very last sentence of the whole article contained two words. They were, "Except lips."
Why, of ALL the organs, were lips exempted? And why, in this "scientific" article in a "scientific" magazine, was not the exemption elaborated upon? Explained? Huh?
Do I expect too much? Is that it?
Thursday, July 12, 2007
THINGS YOU MIGHT NOT CARE TO KNOW
Blog number ninety-eight July 12, 2007
My roving reporter informs me that in the Sacramento yellow pages, there is an ad for psychics on page 666. Coincidence? Synchronicity? Conspiracy? We will determine which and let readers know the results as soon as possible, if not sooner.
In this month's New Yorker magazine, there is a cartoon of a clown at a circus that has a tattooed teardrop by his eye. A little girl is standing by him, pointing to her eye, obviously asking about the tattoo.
The caption reads, "I'm not a sad clown. I killed a guy in prison."
In this month's Discover magazine is a cartoon by Gary Larson of a caveman pointing to the three sharp points on the end of a dinosaur's tail, telling his audience, "Now, this end is called the thagomizer after the late Thag Simmons."
"Thagomizer" is what those things are now called in reference books and museum exhibits. Neat, huh?
Remember, work hard. Keep America strong.
My roving reporter informs me that in the Sacramento yellow pages, there is an ad for psychics on page 666. Coincidence? Synchronicity? Conspiracy? We will determine which and let readers know the results as soon as possible, if not sooner.
In this month's New Yorker magazine, there is a cartoon of a clown at a circus that has a tattooed teardrop by his eye. A little girl is standing by him, pointing to her eye, obviously asking about the tattoo.
The caption reads, "I'm not a sad clown. I killed a guy in prison."
In this month's Discover magazine is a cartoon by Gary Larson of a caveman pointing to the three sharp points on the end of a dinosaur's tail, telling his audience, "Now, this end is called the thagomizer after the late Thag Simmons."
"Thagomizer" is what those things are now called in reference books and museum exhibits. Neat, huh?
Remember, work hard. Keep America strong.
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
SOMETHING ABOUT NOTHING
Blog number ninety-seven July 03, 2007
We just finished watching the movie, "The Prairie Home Companion." I liked it. Which reminds me that we saw a movie last night that I had never heard of before called, "Idlewild."
That movie was a very pleasant surprise - a Negro (Black) musical. I didn't think I was going to like it because, well you know - the culture difference. In fact, early on they started what seemed like it was going to be rap - and it might have been, but it evolved into a mesmerizing song and dance number. I have never seen people dance like that. Wow!
The camera work was very creative. The little "side work" was very creative. That whole movie was very creative. I'm glad I got to see it.
This movie tonight - the Prairie Home Companion, brought back memories from my childhood - back when I was about ten years old.
We used to listen to the radio because you know - no TV? One night we were listening to Grand Old Opry and they said that since it was their last show that night, anyone could come and get in free. I told my dad what they said and asked if we could go - not really believing we could, but he said yes, and the whole family - Mom, Dad, Bill, Me, John, Pat and Mardene all piled in the car and went downtown and got in.
The first surprise was that the show was broadcast on this huge stage. I expected a small stage with a microphone or two like I had seen in the movies when they portrayed a radio program. The second surprise was when I saw a fellow classmate as one of the performers. He played the violin. I knew he played that thing from seeing him at school
A young teenage girl sang and people threw pennies to her. One hit her in the eye. She left the stage after her song, not picking up any of the pennies, but my classmate went out there, violin in one hand, picking up pennies with the other.
I could tell the girl hated the penny throwing and even at that young age, I felt something wrong about people doing that - like she was some trained monkey or seal or something.
The whole show was a special treat.
So why'd I tell this story? I really don't know. Doesn't seem to be a point to it, nor any instructional or educational benefit. Just an old man running off at the mouth again.
Hell, that's justification enough, Yes?
We just finished watching the movie, "The Prairie Home Companion." I liked it. Which reminds me that we saw a movie last night that I had never heard of before called, "Idlewild."
That movie was a very pleasant surprise - a Negro (Black) musical. I didn't think I was going to like it because, well you know - the culture difference. In fact, early on they started what seemed like it was going to be rap - and it might have been, but it evolved into a mesmerizing song and dance number. I have never seen people dance like that. Wow!
The camera work was very creative. The little "side work" was very creative. That whole movie was very creative. I'm glad I got to see it.
This movie tonight - the Prairie Home Companion, brought back memories from my childhood - back when I was about ten years old.
We used to listen to the radio because you know - no TV? One night we were listening to Grand Old Opry and they said that since it was their last show that night, anyone could come and get in free. I told my dad what they said and asked if we could go - not really believing we could, but he said yes, and the whole family - Mom, Dad, Bill, Me, John, Pat and Mardene all piled in the car and went downtown and got in.
The first surprise was that the show was broadcast on this huge stage. I expected a small stage with a microphone or two like I had seen in the movies when they portrayed a radio program. The second surprise was when I saw a fellow classmate as one of the performers. He played the violin. I knew he played that thing from seeing him at school
A young teenage girl sang and people threw pennies to her. One hit her in the eye. She left the stage after her song, not picking up any of the pennies, but my classmate went out there, violin in one hand, picking up pennies with the other.
I could tell the girl hated the penny throwing and even at that young age, I felt something wrong about people doing that - like she was some trained monkey or seal or something.
The whole show was a special treat.
So why'd I tell this story? I really don't know. Doesn't seem to be a point to it, nor any instructional or educational benefit. Just an old man running off at the mouth again.
Hell, that's justification enough, Yes?
Monday, June 25, 2007
MYTHS DISGUISED AS TRUTHS
Blog number Ninety-six 25 June 2007
The myths were; that it was always a rare thing to see a two dollar bill because, as reported in newspapers, that was because nobody wanted them. They were supposedly bad luck. Then fifty cent pieces became a rarity. No reason given to us. When the Susan B. Anthony dollar coins came out, they were not accepted "because people didn't want a woman's picture on their coins." This was also the supposed reason for the nonacceptance by the public of the Sacajawean (sic?) dollar. So they recently made a new dollar coin that has no woman's picture on it. That'll work!
The truths are; two dollar bills were rare because the banks never had any on hand. That's like not having any auto dealerships and then explaining the lack of drivers on the public being afraid of mechanical things.
I use $2 bills, mostly for tips, but also for small purchases, but I have to specially order them and this was a problem for a while because the tellers would always respond to my request with, "it's not possible."
I finally had to ask to see the manager and when asked why, I told the teller that I wanted to order $600 worth of two dollar bills. At the same time I also ordered $200 worth of fifty cent pieces.
I got my order two days later and the girl who had taken my order and gave them to me asked if I would tell her what I wanted them for. She didn't say, "What do you want them for?" She said, "Could I ask you what you use them for?"
I wanted to tell her that I liked to watch them burn, but I didn't. I felt like she thought I was using them for some nefarious activity.
Like funding terrorists.
Or slipping them into lap dancer thongs.
I used to order Susan B. Anthony dollars but quickly gave that up after several times mistaking them for quarters. Whose bright idea was that anyhow, to make them look so nearly like quarters? Don't they have meetings on decisions like this? The reason I didn't like them was not because a woman's picture was on it. I didn't like them because they occasionally cheated me out of seventy-five cents.
When the gold dollars first came out, you could find them occasionally for about a month, then they too disappeared because "nobody wanted them." I went to several banks before I found one that carried them. I don't know why the "powers that be" blame the public for not using stuff that they can't get.
One of the big surprises was the ignorance surrounding fifty cent pieces especially. Several people asked me what they were. Some of these people were in their thirties. One woman said, upon reading the coin, "Huh. A half dollar. How much is that worth?"
One bum, upon receiving a gold dollar looked at it carefully before asking me what it was and if it was worth anything. When I told him it was worth a dollar, he said, "They don't have these in Texas where I come from."
I gave two $2 bills to a girl in a hardware store in payment for some washers and she first marked them with a pencil to see if they were counterfeit, then held them one by one up to the light and then turned her back to me and was peering at something on the desk with them. I thought she was looking a numbered list of counterfeit $2 bills. I asked her what she was doing. She wouldn't answer. I asked again, still no answer. I then asked her if she had a list of counterfeit $2 bills she was looking at. No answer.
She finally turned around and I asked her again what she had been looking at and she told me she looked at them under a black light. She said they didn't get many of them in there. What struck me was that anyone would think that a counterfeiter would counterfiet $2 bills instead of the more common and more lucrative larger denominations. And I would try to pass four whole dollars worth for a net profit of maybe sixty cents plus my washers? Ye gads!
You know, sometimes it just makes sense to ask the very people that use an object just what it is that they do or don't like about it. Funny thing is that people aren't that hard to find. All one of these bright boys has to do is to walk outside their office and lo and behold! Thousands of common people who know exactly why they do or don't use some item.
Is it too much to ask of people who have power over us common little folk that they do a littlesimple thinking once is a while?
The myths were; that it was always a rare thing to see a two dollar bill because, as reported in newspapers, that was because nobody wanted them. They were supposedly bad luck. Then fifty cent pieces became a rarity. No reason given to us. When the Susan B. Anthony dollar coins came out, they were not accepted "because people didn't want a woman's picture on their coins." This was also the supposed reason for the nonacceptance by the public of the Sacajawean (sic?) dollar. So they recently made a new dollar coin that has no woman's picture on it. That'll work!
The truths are; two dollar bills were rare because the banks never had any on hand. That's like not having any auto dealerships and then explaining the lack of drivers on the public being afraid of mechanical things.
I use $2 bills, mostly for tips, but also for small purchases, but I have to specially order them and this was a problem for a while because the tellers would always respond to my request with, "it's not possible."
I finally had to ask to see the manager and when asked why, I told the teller that I wanted to order $600 worth of two dollar bills. At the same time I also ordered $200 worth of fifty cent pieces.
I got my order two days later and the girl who had taken my order and gave them to me asked if I would tell her what I wanted them for. She didn't say, "What do you want them for?" She said, "Could I ask you what you use them for?"
I wanted to tell her that I liked to watch them burn, but I didn't. I felt like she thought I was using them for some nefarious activity.
Like funding terrorists.
Or slipping them into lap dancer thongs.
I used to order Susan B. Anthony dollars but quickly gave that up after several times mistaking them for quarters. Whose bright idea was that anyhow, to make them look so nearly like quarters? Don't they have meetings on decisions like this? The reason I didn't like them was not because a woman's picture was on it. I didn't like them because they occasionally cheated me out of seventy-five cents.
When the gold dollars first came out, you could find them occasionally for about a month, then they too disappeared because "nobody wanted them." I went to several banks before I found one that carried them. I don't know why the "powers that be" blame the public for not using stuff that they can't get.
One of the big surprises was the ignorance surrounding fifty cent pieces especially. Several people asked me what they were. Some of these people were in their thirties. One woman said, upon reading the coin, "Huh. A half dollar. How much is that worth?"
One bum, upon receiving a gold dollar looked at it carefully before asking me what it was and if it was worth anything. When I told him it was worth a dollar, he said, "They don't have these in Texas where I come from."
I gave two $2 bills to a girl in a hardware store in payment for some washers and she first marked them with a pencil to see if they were counterfeit, then held them one by one up to the light and then turned her back to me and was peering at something on the desk with them. I thought she was looking a numbered list of counterfeit $2 bills. I asked her what she was doing. She wouldn't answer. I asked again, still no answer. I then asked her if she had a list of counterfeit $2 bills she was looking at. No answer.
She finally turned around and I asked her again what she had been looking at and she told me she looked at them under a black light. She said they didn't get many of them in there. What struck me was that anyone would think that a counterfeiter would counterfiet $2 bills instead of the more common and more lucrative larger denominations. And I would try to pass four whole dollars worth for a net profit of maybe sixty cents plus my washers? Ye gads!
You know, sometimes it just makes sense to ask the very people that use an object just what it is that they do or don't like about it. Funny thing is that people aren't that hard to find. All one of these bright boys has to do is to walk outside their office and lo and behold! Thousands of common people who know exactly why they do or don't use some item.
Is it too much to ask of people who have power over us common little folk that they do a littlesimple thinking once is a while?
Wednesday, June 6, 2007
MY FIRST REAL LIFE HERO (Cont.)
Blog number Ninety-five 06 June 2007 (D Day already?)
Only a few days after we met, I and him and his brother Robert, were walking in the neighborhood - down alleys mostly. We came to one shed and Bud walked in, picked up a pump or something like that - it had a motor on it, painted green or red, I think.
I thought it a bit odd for a six year old to own something like that, and why was he keeping it in a place not his yard? I didn't ask any questions though, and I think I figured out not much later that he had stolen it.
He said he got kicked out of Catholic school for stealing from the poor box. He was still religious though - he made us doff our caps whenever we walked by a Catholic church.
One day we met a group of other boys and two men offered a nickel to whomever would fight. Bud and this larger fat kid said they would do it. The fat kid would swing a roundhouse, Bud would duck under and come up with an upper cut. This went on for a couple more times until the fat kid started crying. Swing, punch, swing, punch. I don't know where Bud learned that. He reminded me of one of the Dead End Kids.
One day we were in a filling station where there was a pay phone. Bud wanted to call a friend that had a phone. We didn't have any money, but there was a slot on the machine that said, "Coin return," So Bud asked a man standing there if he would give him a nickel so he could call, telling him he would give the nickel right back when it came out of the coin return slot. I remember Bud saying to the man, "See? It says 'coin return' right there. You'll get your nickel back."
I couldn't figure out why the guy didn't go for \this. Obviously we were going to get the nickel back so what could he lose?
Another day Bud found an old fly sprayer that had oil in it and was swinging it around and accidentally sprayed a lady's nylons. She cussed and cussed at him. She was mad!
We left Des Moines in 1942 to go live on the farm with my grandparents and I didn't see Bud again until after I was married in 1950. MY then wife and I went to his old house and there he was, lying on the bed with a rifle, shooting flies on the ceiling. He told us he had just gotten paroled for car theft.
Only a few days after we met, I and him and his brother Robert, were walking in the neighborhood - down alleys mostly. We came to one shed and Bud walked in, picked up a pump or something like that - it had a motor on it, painted green or red, I think.
I thought it a bit odd for a six year old to own something like that, and why was he keeping it in a place not his yard? I didn't ask any questions though, and I think I figured out not much later that he had stolen it.
He said he got kicked out of Catholic school for stealing from the poor box. He was still religious though - he made us doff our caps whenever we walked by a Catholic church.
One day we met a group of other boys and two men offered a nickel to whomever would fight. Bud and this larger fat kid said they would do it. The fat kid would swing a roundhouse, Bud would duck under and come up with an upper cut. This went on for a couple more times until the fat kid started crying. Swing, punch, swing, punch. I don't know where Bud learned that. He reminded me of one of the Dead End Kids.
One day we were in a filling station where there was a pay phone. Bud wanted to call a friend that had a phone. We didn't have any money, but there was a slot on the machine that said, "Coin return," So Bud asked a man standing there if he would give him a nickel so he could call, telling him he would give the nickel right back when it came out of the coin return slot. I remember Bud saying to the man, "See? It says 'coin return' right there. You'll get your nickel back."
I couldn't figure out why the guy didn't go for \this. Obviously we were going to get the nickel back so what could he lose?
Another day Bud found an old fly sprayer that had oil in it and was swinging it around and accidentally sprayed a lady's nylons. She cussed and cussed at him. She was mad!
We left Des Moines in 1942 to go live on the farm with my grandparents and I didn't see Bud again until after I was married in 1950. MY then wife and I went to his old house and there he was, lying on the bed with a rifle, shooting flies on the ceiling. He told us he had just gotten paroled for car theft.
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