YOU SWEET TALKER!

Blog number 179 31 May 2008

Today I went to the counter at Starbucks to get a coffee for me and one for Teresa. When I delivered Teresa's coffee to her, a woman she was talking to said to me, "You look a lot younger from the back."
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The above reminds me of a time when a friend from work brought his wife over for a visit. It was the first time we had met her, and when she first came into our apartment she asked, "How much did you have to pay for this dump?"

Hah! I just absolutely love people like that.

WERE THE TUDORS TUTORS?

Blog number   178                                                              30 May 2008

One of the very best jobs I ever had was tutoring Math at a high school in Sacramento.  Elk Grove, actually, but same thing.  I have known for some time that I cannot teach and I don't like teaching, but I am an excellent tutor, and I love tutoring. I like explaining things. I like to be asked questions.  From my egocentric view, it seems that that should be a universal trait, but it isn't.  Some people hate to be asked about something they know.  That is so alien to me.  I don't understand it.

This morning I called the Phoenix library because I left a book there that belonged in the Casa Grande library.  Lemme digress here a moment.  I just thought of something.

I had a friend in the Air Force that once came out to our house  and he asked me where all our books were.  I asked him what he meant and he said I was always talking about something I was reading and so he figgured I must have a lot of books.  I told him I got my books from the library.  News to him, I guess.

He once told me that he never read books because they didn't have any pictures.  I just looked at him nonplussed and he said, "Really.  I need pictures or I can't read."

Okay.  Back to business.  When I told the librarian what I wanted, she told me to wait a minute and a short time later she came back and said, "We have your book."  I thought there was a good chance I had lost it because I thought it would be thrown away since it wasn't their book, or at least placed on the shelf where people could buy books for a dollar.

I asked her how she had found it so quick and she said it happens a lot, so if their computer kicks out a book, they put it in a special box and wait for somebody to ask for it.  Now comes the raison d'etat for this blog entry.

When I found this out - about how the library works mis-returned books, I immediately wanted to tell Teresa.  But I have been working on a discipline where I don't tell some things so that I will have a few secrets.  So far I haven't been able to do this.  The tell - no tell thing worked so hard on my psyche that it brought up an epiphany.  The reason I can't keep a secret is this old bugaboo about tutoring.  I want to explain!  It's who I am.

This may not sound like much to you, but from inside here, it's a big thing. 

THOSE WERE THE DAYS MY FRIEND, WE THOUGHT THEY'D NEVER END

Blog number   177                                                              28 May 2008

The neighbor lady came over last night and told me that it looked like I had a flat tire.  Yep, I did.  I have had flats before - lots of them, but they exhibited a low tire.  THIS one exhibited a FLAT one. Squashed.  Methinks someone flattened it on purpose as opposed to somebody flattening it by accident.

The lovely Teresa thinks the neighbor lady did it so's she could speak to moi.  I have my doubts, and several years ago I would have definitely denied that ANYONE would ever do such a thing for that purpose.  But I have had life experiences that tells me that anyone can do the most outrageous thing for the most outlandish reason.  I didn't used to think that way.  I thought everyone was reasonable, but my experience with a mailman who misdirected my retirement check because he was jealous that I was retired and he had to work told me that there is no limit to the idiocy of humans.

Be that as it may, I have in my possession, an electric pressure pump.  So I pumped the tire up and so far - two hours later it still holds correct pressure.  Fixed?  Apparently.  But this got me to thinking about gas stations where you could always go to get your tires aired.  Not too many of those around anymore, and even if you find one, you probably will need your own tire pressure gauge.

When I was a teenager, whenever you pulled into a gas station, you would run across a rubber hose which rang a loud bell, signaling the attendant that he had a customer.

"Gimme a dollar's worth of regular."

"Check the oil and tires?"  This was said while the gas was being put in, which was followed immediately by a washing of the windshield.  Sometimes the windshield would be washed while the attendant asked, "Gas?"

Anytime you wanted to know what time it was, any gas station in the country had a big clock easily seen from outside.  You could walk into any clean, clean, rest room, whether you were a customer or not.  It didn't matter.  These people were SERVICE station attendants.

I miss the "Flying Red Horse" - Mobile gas, I think.  A full-sized red horse galloping on top of a twenty foot pole.

Sheesh!

WELL, IT'S MY BLOG

Blog number   176                                                              27 May 2008

This entry is mostly for a particular person commenting on my entries. I don't feel I explained or can explain my viewpoint clearly in the comment section. For instance, this that I am writing now will be written, edited, and corrected.  The comment section is simply written.

The thing about crude oil being a product of dead plants and animals is not that it is a myth, it is that I believe it is a myth.  It may not be.  It may be true.  I don't think it is.

If it is true that crude oil comes from plants and animals, then there are myriad other difficult questions that come up automatically.  But to say that crude oil is a liquid mineral hydrocarbon brings up no other questions than saying, "that is sandstone" does.  Occum's Razor.

There ARE myths disguised as truths that are absolute, not merely believed, but unfortunately they are so ingrained in our culture's consciousness as truths that though easily seen, they are very often dismissed as - usually, "playing with words."  One usually thinks, "That just cannot be!"

I could start out by saying that the whole physical world is contained completely within your skull.  This you could dismiss easily, and quite rightly. 

But if I point out that light waves enter your eye, transform into electrochemical signals, and eventually the brain reacts in such a way so that YOU see, that sight is a product of the brain and NOT the eye, this is something most of us have been taught in school.  We can accept that.

But if I point out that what we hear, feel, taste, smell, also is "felt" first ONLY in the brain and THEN we hear, feel, taste, and smell, this you may have a little more trouble with.  But maybe not.

But then if I go on to say that since all of our sensing of the physical world is sensed ONLY in the brain and therefore the whole physical universe is contained ONLY in our brain, THAT you will refuse.  Even though it follows logically.  No es verdad?

Once this is comprehended, accepted, that the whole physical world is contained solely within our skulls, then a whole world of what used to seem like truths to us becomes clearly, myths.  Things that used to seem of the utmost importance - like politics, archeology, history, or art, become playthings for adult children. Fun, but of no importance.  Myths, and nothing else.

I am not saying that everything is an illusion.  I am saying that everything physical is an illusion - not real.  What is "out there" may not be out there at all.  There is no way to tell.

All the available evidence seems to suggest that there IS no "out there" out there.  It's all a myth, is what seems to be suggested.

There ARE real "things," but they are not physical.  For instance, thoughts are real, but they aren't physical.

ONE COINCIDENCE AND ONE "AHA!"

Blog number   175                                                              27 May 2008

A coupla days ago I blogged about "myths disguised as truths."  Today I'm in Barnes and Nobles reading a book entitled, "Human Smoke" - a series of articles of what various people have said about world events that were never reported World-Wide and therefore myths were perpetuated to stand in place of these unwelcome truths.

That's a coincidence.

I once read Albert Speer's (Albert Speer was Hitler's architect during and before, WW2) book in which Mr. Speer told of Hitler's firm belief that England, through Winston Churchill, would make peace with Germany and join them in the war against Russia and the Jews.

I couldn't understand what would make Hitler think this.  He seemed a genius in his reading of the minds of his friends and enemies.  How could he be so badly mistaken here regarding Winston Churchill?

Today, reading in this book, "Human Smoke," I found articles and papers written about and by Winston Churchill of his personal hatred toward both Jews and Russia, actually - in my view, rivaling Hitler's rants about these same people.

AHA!

MYSTERIES ARE FUN AND FRUSTRATING. MOSTLY FRUSTRATING

Blog number   174                                                              24 May 2008

We - Teresa and I, were watching the movie, "There Will Be Blood" this afternoon and in the movie, the characters are bailing crude oil from a pool of it with buckets and then pouring the buckets of oil into a pit.  The oil was black, heavy, dirty, filthy.  Looking at it, I was convinced once again how highly unlikely it is that this selfsame oil came from dead dinosaurs or any other kind of animal, like the experts proclaim. At least I think they proclaim.  Somebody did.  It was in my textbooks in school.

It is difficult for me to believe that scientists - who are supposedly known for their intellect, could ever think that oil came from animals.  I really don't know where that idea came from, l only know that it is a pervasive myth in our culture, and maybe in cultures around the world.

I have seen a lot of dead animals and not once did any of them look like they were "turning."  They either got eaten or they dried up.  Those were the only two choices.

Even supposing dead dinosaurs were the "cause" of crude oil.  Even supposing.  Did millions of them happen to die in them same place so that the millions of barrels of oil in an oil field could exist?  And in other parts of the world the dinosaurs died and didn't turn into oil?  Very, very unlikely scenario.

So what's the story? Where did this myth come from and why isn't one of our "experts" demystifying this ubiquitous mystery?  Huh?

I just wanted to get this off my chest.  Maybe some day I'll write about other myths disguised as truths -- like "Your vote counts" or "We see with our eyes" or "The constitution guarantees..."

But don't hold your breath.

Spitting into the wind is tiresome.

CHARACTERS ARE MY FAVORITE PEOPLE

Blog number   173                                                              22 May 2008

I'm reading this nonfiction book about a New England husband and wife team of book collectors.  It's called, Used and Rare by Lawrence and Nancy Goldstone.  Fascinating book.  I have discovered, for instance that the book itself is sometimes an art object - not the writing, but the actual physical book.  Like seascapes painted on the top of the pages so that you could only see it by fanning the pages out like a deck of cards.  Also, the actual physical book itself sometimes has a fascinating story attached to it - how it came to be and why, etc.  Like "A Christmas Carol" written in order for Dickens not to go to debtor's prison.

And not only that, but the sellers of used and rare seem to inordinately be characters.  For instance;

Anyway, Marty (Lawrence's wife Nancy calls her husband "Martin," thus, "Marty.") went in and tried to look at his stock.  But every time Marty wanted to see something, the old man jumped in front of him and yelled, "Don't touch my books!"  Then, when Marty wanted to see something, it was always on the top shelf and the old man would have to laboriously roll his ladder over and hike up to the top.  He'd get up there, open the cover to the book Marty wanted to see and then say something like, "This is a great book.  I think I'll mark it up!"  And then, right in front of Marty's eyes, he would reach into his pocket, pull out an eraser, erase the old price and write in a new, higher one.

And then, if Marty decided he was desperate enough and would buy the book anyway and said, "Okay, I'll take it," the man would yell, "It's not for sale!" and put it back on the shelf.

Later on they got to talking about Shakespeare, and the old man jumped up on the table and started quoting passages.  When he was done, he leaned over, bug-eyed, and yelled, "It's  all in the poems!"

Sweet!