Half-demolished Kitchen of the Soul

Revisitation

I encountered a mention today of John Steinbeck's Cannery Row. I'd read the book. (I'd read almost all of Steinbeck when I first moved to Steinbeck country.) I'd been to the actual Cannery Row (or, rather the modern touristy representation of it). But I remember very little of either the book or the place.

So I downloaded the Kindle version and started to read.

And perhaps that might be the way to write this book—to open the page and to let the stories crawl in by themselves.

Ah yes. This will be very good.

How big, how far?

My inner map geek is totally thrilled. Click image for a larger view.

No grinding

My pencil sharpener didn't work.

Okay. I replaced the batteries.

Still wouldn't work.

I checked to make sure the batteries were inserted correctly.

Yup.

Still wouldn't work.

Oh well, it had a good life.

I found a sharper pencil in the other room. Tomorrow I go to Office Depot.

Music Video Monday: Todd Rundgren

How to get a mild winter

It never rains whenever I remember to take an umbrella. It's as if preparedness prevents the circumstance for which I need to be prepared. It might be why we've had a mild, snow-free winter.

My old gloves were falling apart, so I bought new ones when it started to turn nippy. I stuffed the gloves in my jacket pockets where they'd be readily at hand. But I haven't needed them. That's some good magic. Or at least some good coincidence and bias confirmation.

Buying cookies instead of lies

The last time I purchased Girl Scout cookies was when I worked in an office and some coworker was hustling them for her daughter. I've somehow managed to avoid or ignore them since.

But now there are crasy-ass conservatives claiming the Girl Scouts are some kind of radical, anti-Christian, un-American, lesbian indoctrination cult. Because the Girl Scouts don't have any religious requirements. And because they allow transgendered girls in their club. And because:

Girl Scouting helps girls develop their full individual potential; relate to others with increasing understanding, skill, and respect; develop values to guide their actions and provide the foundation for sound decision-making; and contribute to the improvement of society through their abilities, leadership skills, and cooperation with others.

Can't have any of that going on, can we? It will destroy the nation.

So, even though I'm diabetic and shouldn't be eating cookies, I bought some from the cheerful, energetic girls outside the grocery store. I'll just throw them away without opening them. Otherwise, the next thing you know I'll have pounded down an entire box of Thin Mints. No really I'll throw them away. I promise. Scout's honor.

Elsewhere

Rehersals for the Easter pageant are progressing.

Hair

As I studied my eyebrows in the mirror, trying to get the scissor around a wild one-inch hair, I thought back to a period in my teens when I was in danger of becoming a monobrow. Hormones were busy growing new hair all over my body without much regard as to where.

From time to time, Mom would grab her tweezers, wrestle me down and pluck the gap between my brows. I suppose it was a favor returned, because when I was younger, she would have me tweeze her face. Ah, the childhood memories.

Friday Photo

The tragedy of Opposite Sex Attraction

The following is from a friend's blog. It's satire, but like all good satire, there's truth in it. There's a pile of cultural "indoctrination" to be straight.

My Struggle with OSA
By Baura Kale

You read about it and cluck your tongue and shake your head. "That could never happen to me," you tell yourself, "I would never be like that." But statistics show that Opposite Sex Attraction (OSA) afflicts people from all walks of life. It afflicts members of all races and all socioeconomic classes. It has ruined reputations, and led to the downfall, of doctors, lawyers, athletes, governors, senators and, even, presidents. It has also afflicted me. This is my story--I suffer from OSA.

Things were not always this way. I recall that as a small boy I had a rather carefree existence. My family life was normal, as normal as could be expected, and I had playmates of both sexes. We would play together with no problems other than an argument over whether one of us was tagged or not, or what game to play next. If only it could have stayed that way.

Heterosexuals are not content to just live their own lives; they don't keep their practices to themselves. They recruit impressionable, innocent kids into their so-called "lifestyle." When I was in the fifth grade I had a teacher, Miss Williams, who, evidently, was a closet heterosexual. Every Friday afternoon she would have the entire class go to a strange room without desks and there a phonograph would play loud, wild "music." She had us play this strange game called "dancing." She would have the girls line up on one side of the room and the boys on the other. Then the boys would each go ask a girl to dance. The boy and girl would then go out to the middle of the floor and gyrate together, moving their bodies in close proximity to the hypnotic rhythm to the music.

It all seemed so innocent at the time. No one thought to tell anyone what was happening. None of us had any idea of where this could lead until it was too late. If we only had known.

In my town there was a movie theater that showed all kinds of movies--cowboy movies, war movies, action-adventure movies, comedies, cartoons. I would go to the matinee every Saturday and root for my favorite cowboy as he'd battle the evil men in the black hats.

But this theater wasn't content. It shamelessly began to include movies cleverly designed to advance the heterosexual agenda. Usually in these movies a guy would be happy on his own. Then he'd meet a girl and they'd start kissing and hugging. The story would invariably lead to the guy and girl breaking off their relationship. But just when he was free his OSA would make his life miserable. All the movies ended the same way. The boy gave in to his OSA and ended up back with the girl. The message of these movies was clear: if you have OSA the only thing to do is to stop struggling and give in to it.

About the time that I was being insidiously programmed by the movies (and even some television programs!) my friend, Lester Kravitch, showed up at school with a magazine, the type of which I had never seen before. It was called "Playboy" and had high-quality photographs of women in provocative poses. These magazines were clearly designed to stimulate a young boys OSA. In the middle of the magazine I recall there was a large photograph of the featured girl that was too large to fit on a normal page. It folded out to three-times the normal page size.

I found myself fantasizing about the girls in the magazine. I also began to have similar fantasies concerning Amanda Feldman who sat opposite me in my 8th-grade social-studies class. This was something that had never happened before. I spent hours thinking about Amanda. I spun wild tales of how our life would be together. I lost sleep. My grades suffered. But the OSA had taken over my whole mind. I had become a slave to the obsession. OSA is merciless--if given the smallest foothold it takes over.

My fixation on Amanda was just the first of a long series of sordid passages in my life, all fueled by my OSA. Finally I went out of my way to put one of my obsessions into practice. Rather than just think about things I devised a plan to act out my obsessive thoughts.

In the state where I live there is a law on the books legalizing opposite-sex marriage. "This would be great," I thought, "we'll get married and our life together will be one of happiness and joy." Right! That's what they want you to believe.

The truth was anything but.

Oh it was pleasant enough in the beginning. We'd indulge our OSA with total abandon. We thought nothing of it. But then the insidious aspect of OSA reared its ugly head. Being of opposite sexes it happened that we had totally different approaches to things. For instance she had absolutely no appreciation for professional football whatsoever. She thought it was stupid that I'd have friends over to watch the pre-game show, the game, the post-game show and then watch another game that we'd taped. She said that we were being "silly" and "childish."

And then she was constantly asking me questions about her clothes, how they made her look and would get angry with me when I have her an honest answer.

It became a living hell.

Unfortunately my OSA didn't just quit with this terrible development. I noticed other women at work and found myself fantasizing about them. OSA does strange things to your head. It makes you think that you can solve a problem by doing the same thing that created the problem in the first place.

To make a long story short my wife found out about some of my OSA acting out. She wasn't at all understanding. She divorced me, took the house and our two kids. A sizeable chunk of my current income now goes to her. To make matters worse the woman that I had been acting out with (the one who said she "loved" me and "understood" me) suddenly decided she liked someone else better.

So here I am alone, broke, broken and still bothered constantly with OSA.

If only I had had the courage and sense-of-mind to say "no" to Miss Williams and her perverted "dance" games. If only I had summoned the character to walk out of the disgusting OSA movies. If only I had been warned of the terrible dangers I was getting into I might be a happy, successful man today. Instead OSA has ruined my life.

Let my story be a warning to you. Don't let OSA ruin your life. See the heterosexual agenda for what it is and fight it at every level. "Innocent" dance games and so-called "romantic comedies" may seem harmless. The heterosexuals claim they are just simple entertainment. But they are insidious tools for advancing the heterosexual agenda.

Be warned, OSA is a terrible thing to suffer with. It destroys lives.

Save yourself before it is too late.

Happy Song of the Week

No Rain / Blind Melon

I'm watching your butt

A while back, North Face realized that as we walk down the street or mall or trail, we see other people's backs longer than we see their fronts. So they put a logo on the back of their clothing.

I realized the same principle applies to vehicles. Cars coming toward us flash by, but there we are, looking at the tails of the cars in front of us. Sometimes for a long time. Damn traffic. Yet most cars look like a lot more time was spent designing the front than the rear. Some rear ends are boring. Some look a lot like other brands. Some look as stylish as a potato. Some look like afterthoughts. "Oh, yeah. Put the interns on that. They have until end of day."

Sure, when people go car shopping, they spend more time admiring the grille than the taillights. But is it a chicken-egg situation? Perhaps they ignore the back because it's worthy of it.

Manufacturers have an opportunity to completely rethink the basic concept of a car rear end. Sure, regulations require a few things, but there's so much that could be done beyond that.

For example, everyone recognizes the rear of '59 Cadillacs. But do you remember the front? Um, some headlights, some chrome...?

I'm not saying we should go back to giant fins and a half ton of chrome. (Well, at least not on every car.) I just think there are other answers awaiting. There has to be. Because I'm tired of looking at boring car butts.

How to hurt economic recovery

Yesterday, in a moment of clarity, Mitt Romney said:

"If you just cut, if all you're thinking about doing is cutting [government] spending, as you cut spending you'll slow down the economy."

That's what Democrats have been saying. But then Mitt added that you also need "pro-growth tax policies." In other words, more tax cuts, even though the current rates are at an 80-year low. Of course, when you cut tax revenues, you then need further spending cuts in order to meet Romney's pledge of a balanced budget.

Is Romney right, or is Obama's direction more likely to work? Well consider this from Elliot Spitzer:

From the wreckage of the 2008 financial crisis, two competing strategies emerged. For the anti-Keynesian deregulatory ideologues—who created the crisis but still refused to acknowledge their role in doing so—the way forward was more tax cuts and austerity, and no government assistance to key sectors. For those who still believed in Keynes and sane regulatory intervention, the remedy was to restore financial regulations that prevented excess risk-taking and to help key sectors—the automotive industry in particular—recover through careful market-based intervention.

And, as luck would have it, the global economy has supplied us with two experiments, one testing each theory. The European Union embraced the austerity of Hayek and the anti-Keynesians: It is plunging into a renewed recession. Here in the United States, where President Obama supported a modest stimulus bill, auto bailouts, and some financial reregulation, the renewed auto sector is roaring back to life, and the unemployment rate is dropping at a nice clip. In the auto sector, government helped clean up the balance sheet, renegotiate pension and work rules, restructure wage scales, and build the best product possible. Detroit is bouncing back, with profits and new models streaming off assembly lines. Europe is facing an austere summer and fall, with little to show for its ideological purity except continued red ink.

I would go with what real-world application of these theories tell us. Hurray for data! Besides, if Republicans are the RealAmericans® they claim to be, they wouldn't want to do anything those quiche-eating, Speedo-wearing, socialist Europeans would do, right?

Shine on

What we call modern design started as a rejection of the ornamentation associated with the ruling class and religion. (Yeah, it was a socialist thing, so it's ironic that clean, sleek, utilitarian design was embraced by corporate America.) The anti-aristocracy, anti-theocracy agenda behind modern design is what makes this streetlight both funny and laden with political meaning. An unsentimental, functional people's pole (decapitated, naturally)  supporting (with the sweat of its labors) gold and crystal decadence.

Music Video Monday: Spin Doctors

Bang bang

Ex-soldier and fellow arty guy, Doug, sent out feelers for anyone interested in going to the knife & gun show with him. Sure, why not. We're both over on the left side of the political spectrum, but we also own firearms. So much for stereotypes.

Other than toys, I never had any guns until I married. My wife's father had been a sheriff's deputy. He had taught her how to shoot and had given her a .38 revolver for her protection. I was apprehensive, but she encouraged me to get comfortable with guns. She took me shooting and I soon bought a .357 magnum for myself. Because I discovered I liked shooting and the mechanicalness of weapons. It's similar to guys liking cars and motorcycles.

I didn't think of my gun as protection. Even in Southern California. Even after the Rodney King riots, car jackings, drive-by shootings, et cetera, et cetera. I had never been in a situation where a gun would have been the answer. I still haven't. Knock on wood.

At one time I had five pistols. I settled on the one I liked the best—a 9mm Sig Sauer P226—and parted with the others. That's it on the left.

So, anyway, off to the gun show. I went to observe, to take in the scene, and to see if there was anything especially cool. 

There are all types of gun owners, and they were all represented, from bleeding-heart pinko's like Doug and I, to hunters, to collectors, and all the way to weapon stockpiling survivalists and, no doubt, some criminals.

The oh-no-Obama's-going-to-confiscate-our-weapons vibe seemed rather low. Or maybe it was such a given among those who worry about it that it didn't need to be shouted.

However, the weapons manufacturers and sellers should start and end every day thanking the president for the "stimulus" he gave their industry just by getting elected. And the fact Obama has done nothing at all to limit 2nd Amendment rights hasn't kept the NRA from beating the only drum it has.

As Doug took the photo above, a guy hustled over to tell us we couldn't take pictures at gun shows, that it was an ATF rule. Baloney. The guy should have told the truth, that it's not cool to take photos because other attendees (the paranoid and criminal ones, for example) are concerned about keeping a low profile. If I had wanted to make a scene rather than just move along, I could have replied, "No, what the ATF is concerned about at gun shows is the lack of background checks."

I was impressed, though, by the high level of politeness and patience of the attendees. It was a subway rush hour squeeze in most places, yet everyone was far better behaved than the mob that floods the same venue for the antiques & collectables shows. Those Antiques Roadshow folks can get nasty. Maybe it's true that an armed society is a polite society.

Friday Photo

Disappointment on wheels

One of my several retirement scenarios involves living fulltime in an RV, wandering the continent. So I went to the big RV show today to see what new and amazing things they had to offer.

My complaint with RVs is that they're all designed for families, not single people or couples. That means too much space devoted to sitting and sleeping instead of, say, a larger bathroom. How about getting rid of the sofa bed and half the banquette? If it's just for solo use, why not get rid of the front passenger seat and turn it into something useful, like a big drink cooler or a luxury dog suite?

But, no. It's all the same stuff. Some are set up a little better. Some have more bells and whistles. Some have some stupid features, like a 10" step-down from the shower. Wet surface... downward step onto a laminate floor... product liability suit waiting to happen.

Then there's the matter of decor.  Let's just say I'd prefer something that looked like it was designed in Milan, Italy instead of Milan, Tennessee.

Of course, with enough money, I could have what I want custom built. The trouble is, I don't have enough money. And then there's the fuel budget all that wandering would require.

So life on the road probably isn't for me. An alternative is to just move place to place, living in apartments.

The personhood problem

Various states have passed, or are attempting to pass, laws declaring personhood begins at the instant of conception. If it’s really about protecting zygotes and not just a way to prosecute those performing abortions, then how will they enforce personhood laws?

If they’re going to do it right, they need to be able to tell if any new persons have been created, if any ova have been fertilized. That would mean having every female of reproductive age checked every month.

Or, if you really, really want to protect those persons, women should be checked within hours of each time they have intercourse—which means constant monitoring to know whether intercourse is occurring, so those women can be ordered to testing immediately after, before she has time take a morning after pill.

If a woman who has previously been found with person subsequently tests negative, then there would need to be an investigation as to whether it was homicide, manslaughter, criminal negligence, an accident or natural causes. Of course, the man in her life would need to be investigated as an accessory or even coconspirator.

Once a woman has been shown to be with person, shouldn’t she and her person be taken into protective custody until delivery so nothing nefarious can happen to the person? Custody would simplify investigation if she should miscarry. And it would keep her from engaging in any negligent behaviors.

What if medical testing determines there’s something about a woman’s biology that inhibits the implantation of fertilized eggs—of persons? Would it become criminal for her to have intercourse? After all, she would be risking the creation of persons she knows will just be expelled and die. How evil is that?

Burner, baby, burner

As you can see, the burner I use most is rather clean while the two that I rarely use aren't. You'd expect it to be the other way around. But stuff from the burners that get used spatters and splashes onto the burners that don't get used. And because that stuff doesn't get burned off by using those burners. Maybe I should take a blow torch to the dirty burners.

For your love

Happy Valentine's Day / Andre 3000

Outlier

When I saw this picture, I immediately related to the kid on the left. C'est moi! Only I wouldn't have been smiling at that age.

I grew up in a subculture that was very group oriented. More than society in general. Nonconformity was not accommodated. It was even suspect.

I spent a lot of my early life feeling... wrong. I didn't understand at the time that I just wasn't a group person, and, more importantly, that it was okay to be that way. But there I was, surrounded by people who believed in being surrounded by people. They were happy. Why wasn't I?

Fortunately, I figured it out a about the same time I had the means to leave the herd and make the type of life that fit me. What sort of social structures would I develop if there was no one telling me what sort of social structures I should have? Very minimal ones, it turns out.

I made peace with my reclusive nature, even embraced it. It's not that I hate groups. It's just that they make me feel drained rather than energized.

Here's an example of how this group thing used to twist my behavior. There might have been something I wanted to do, like special event. But if someone were to invite me to go to that event with a group, I'd turn them down rather than let them think I was going only because they'd asked. I missed out on some good stuff because of that, but, at the time, I felt it was a small price to pay for my independence.

So here's to all the loners and proto-loners out there. Hey, we should form a club.

Bigfoot/Coldfoot

Because of peripheral neuropathy, my feet are always cold. Even in summer. Sometimes they're just a little chilly, but they're usually painfully cold when I get into bed. I hold one foot against the opposite leg for a while, then switch. But the foot not getting heat from my legs is left there complaining. I've tried various socks, but they seem to only insulate my feet, keeping cold feel cold.

Then I saw those microwave slippers advertised on latenight TV. Ah-HA!

I did a little online research and learned they're essentially bags of linseed or rice. And that most of them come in pink. (I guess we men are too butch to do anything about cold feet.) And that men's sizes (when they have them) don't go any larger than size 10. I'm an 11. Otherwise it's a vague one-size-fits all. Mmmm, not if your foot is longer than the fully stretched foot pocket.

I found a DIY site suggesting you could make your own. I don't have a sewing machine. Maybe I could just pour heated rice into my socks.

Art nerd joke of the day

Music Video Monday: Whitney Houston