The Anti-College Argument....Staring The World In Its Face!

And 17 years later I did go to college. But I naively chose a college that was almost as expensive as Stanford, and all of my working-class parents' savings were being spent on my college tuition. After six months, I couldn't see the value in it. I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life and no idea how college was going to help me figure it out. And here I was spending all of the money my parents had saved their entire life. So I decided to drop out and trust that it would all work out OK. It was pretty scary at the time, but looking back it was one of the best decisions I ever made.

That was Steve Jobs describing himself during Stanford's 2005 commencement speech.

So yeah, he was a perspicacious college drop-out, along with Michael Dell, Bill Gates, and a host of other titanic innovators.

College simply isn't worth the time, the energy, the money, or the humanity it demands.

Not to mention, it's going to take *graduates* at least 10 years - if they are even lucky enough to see what's wrong with themselves - to break off the mental manacles from others-directed learning.  Heck I'm 36 years old and still haven't recovered from the bad advice and false-promises of Big Education.

All these Apple-lovin', Steve Jobs-worshipping geeks...

They have him up on a pedestal but yet still go through with years of schooling themselves AND they send their kids down that path as well!

The Great Escape!

Surprise Scat

I don't think he was scared:



I think he just relaxed the wrong muscle(s)...

Almost Comical

I hear Rush Limbaugh got married yet again. For the fourth freakin' time!

They say that a third marriage represents the *triumph of hope over experience*...

And it's a shame because Rush succumbing to *hope* in the age of Obama would have made a better headline irony!

So what might a fourth marriage represent?

A triumph of *forgetfulness* over hope AND experience?

Absolutely Everything Online?

It just dawned on me that I have to channel MOST of my experimental homeschool art lessons over to the computer.

The future, and probably present, of art is all digital: flash animations, digital photography, photoshopping, movie-making, and whatnot.

I'm not fluent in these subjects, at all. So I need to do some work for myself as well - especially if I ever hope to produce any marketable content.

New York has everything. Only one town over in Great Neck I found a school that offers classes - for youngsters grade 2 and up! - in precisely what I am interested in: flash animation, video game design, and whatnot.

The only problem is, they work out to a pricey $60 per hour. So scrap the idea of outsourcing this subject. I'd rather buy the software and plow through the tutorials on my own. How hard can the introductory stuff be anyway?

And yeah, that is my work pictured above! I guess for starters I'll have my kids, particularly my art-enthused daughter (age 4.16), mess around with the Microsoft Paint program.  We see how that works out and then proceed from there.

See also - Art From My Butt.

Tattling Nannies Everywhere!

The best from that article is the unblinking *alarmism*:

"I can't believe she was shopping for a child car seat when she left her baby in the car. How someone could leave their child by themselves in a car now days? I saw the girl by herself until the police arrived. Forget about the heat for a minute, what if a child molester were to happen upon the little girl by herself in the car?" said the witness who wanted to remain anonymous.

According to statics, this happens far too often, and experts said the dangers of leaving a child unattended in a car can at the very least be harmful if not deadly.

Whether it's from gear-shifted crashes, sweltering temperatures, locking parents out of a car, trunk entrapments, or playing with windows and getting limbs (or necks even) caught, horrific accidents can and do happen in a blink of an eye, experts said.

"Kids have engaged cars, have been strangled by their car seats and cars have been stolen with kids in them", said Elena Acosta of Kern County Department Of Human Services.

Purple Ribbon Month was started because a 6-month-old girl named Kaitlyn died while left unattended in her babysitter's van. Kaitlyn's Law, became effective in 2002 making it a citable offense to leave a child under 6 years of age unattended in a motor vehicle without the supervision of someone at least 12 years of age.

What a bunch of BS, from those experts!

Just imagine the tragedy of a parent being *locked outside the car*...

Recently a friend of mine up North emailed to tell me that he was cited by the Hingham Police for leaving his nearly 6 year old son in the car outside of a store while he ran in to grab a soft drink. I believe it was some 'old coot' in the parking lot who called the cops the second my buddy jumped out of the car.

This is a practice I indulge in all the time. As to getting ratted out, I was once warned by a cashier at the Hilltop Butcher Shop in Weymouth, MA that they have had customers get similarly cited.

What was somewhat funny about my friend is that he got caught before me. Of course, though, I only leave the kids in the car when I can see them at all times from the store. AND I always do a scan of the parking lot when I jump out to make sure there are no cops nearby or other busybody types. Tinted windows are your ally!

My latest thing I do is bring my kids to the driving range. I put a DVD on and leave them in the car some 80 yards away while I chip away at my 40,000 practice balls. In fact, my kids are so TV/movie starved that my daughter is always asking me, "Dad, can you go hit balls?" How's that for a perfect little girl?!

That Boston friend did receive a follow-up visit from some government official. They came to his house to investigate! Luckily, the bureaucrat did not give him a hard time at all; he even confessed that the law was really for people who leave their kid in the car all day while they hit the slot machines and whatnot; or go to a crack house. It definitely could have been a lot more painful, say if he were in California, judging by the appalling tenor of that article.

Y'all should see me at the mall. My kids are always running pretty darn far ahead of me. And as they zoom past other people, invariably some of them start looking all around, palpably distressed, for evidence of a nearby parent. I keep sauntering towards these Morons - who never do they ever look in the direction from whence the brats came! - and try to convey to them, politely, my best MYFB glare. They most certainly ARE NOT genuinely concerned about the kids. No, they are steeped in self-righteousness as to how others should parent THEIR OWN brood.

Officially A *Napper*!

One of the (many) things I've vowed to make a staple of our homeschooling curriculum and yet backslid on was reading to the kids. Now my wife has usually shouldered most of the reading at night with the kids, but I discovered the Charlotte Mason method - see my post - and set out to become more active. Yeah, even though my son is long since literate, it's important to read to him every day because through narration, he can learn better enunciation, pronunciation, and I can stop and explain anything that's not understood.

But I haven't done such a good job at keeping this particular vow.

Why not? Well, I can't stay awake!

I've turned into the *napper*, the 'old coot' that I successfully mocked for years on Rich Karlgaard's blog. I've unfortunately turned into my father(!) who used to nod off in church, at the dinner table, or wherever he sat down. My brother and I got a huge kick out of putting potato chips on his open mouth while he watched color TV black and white Nostalgia Channel shows through his eyelids.

But now I've transformed into that very same person. I sleep 4-5 hours a night no problem (like my father); but the second I stop moving, thinking, and doing....I drift off.

I started reading the first Harry Potter book to the Prince today and I must have nodded off 17 times in the 17 pages I made it through. My son kept screaming in my ear to "WAKE UP!". He's also taken to flicking me on the head!

It's going to be a long 300 pages...

Phil Mickelson = DONE

SHEBOYGAN, Wis. -- Forget chasing the No. 1 ranking. Phil Mickelson was more worried about being able to get out of bed.

Mickelson revealed Tuesday he has psoriatic arthritis, which causes his immune system to attack his joints and tendons and produced such intense pain he couldn't walk. He noticed the first symptoms five days before the U.S. Open, and the pain eventually got so bad he made a visit to the Mayo Clinic.

Weekly shots have brought the disease under control, and Mickelson said there shouldn't be any negative impact on his long- or even short-term health.

"I'm surprised at how quickly it's gone away and how quickly it's been able to be managed and controlled," he said. "I feel 100 percent, like I say. But when I'm laying there on the couch and I can't move, you know, yeah, I had some concerns. But I feel a lot better now."

As if that bombshell wasn't enough for the day, Lefty dropped another one: The burger connoisseur is now a vegetarian.

"I know, I know," he said as reporters laughed. "As long as I believe that there's a possibility that it will help me overall, yeah, I'll continue to do that. If it will somehow keep this in remission or stop it from coming back, yeah, I'll be able to do it. But I haven't been put it to the real test. The real test is driving by a Five Guys and not stopping."

Yeah, it's not the can't-even-move arthritis that's sealed his fate....it's the ill-advised VEGANISM!

John Daly tried to quit drinking and gambling - that didn't work.

Tiger Woods tried to quit whoring around - and that didn't work.

And once, my wife made me quit making *negative* remarks for an evening - boy did I turn into a dullard!

See also - On Vegetarians - which has a link to the story of Prince Fielder, a baseballer who gave up meat and lost all his hitting power!

Dumb Luck

Is that Prius brake-failure at the 2:00 mark?

And I thought I, with my wife, kids, and abs I was *lucky*!

Morons Discover We Have A "Ruling Class"

People keep sending me this essay, so I will highlight in hopes that the emails stop!

America's Ruling Class - And the Perils of Revolution

As over-leveraged investment houses began to fail in September 2008, the leaders of the Republican and Democratic parties, of major corporations, and opinion leaders stretching from the National Review magazine (and the Wall Street Journal) on the right to the Nation magazine on the left, agreed that spending some $700 billion to buy the investors' "toxic assets" was the only alternative to the U.S. economy's "systemic collapse." In this, President George W. Bush and his would-be Republican successor John McCain agreed with the Democratic candidate, Barack Obama. Many, if not most, people around them also agreed upon the eventual commitment of some 10 trillion nonexistent dollars in ways unprecedented in America. They explained neither the difference between the assets' nominal and real values, nor precisely why letting the market find the latter would collapse America. The public objected immediately, by margins of three or four to one.

When this majority discovered that virtually no one in a position of power in either party or with a national voice would take their objections seriously, that decisions about their money were being made in bipartisan backroom deals with interested parties, and that the laws on these matters were being voted by people who had not read them, the term "political class" came into use. Then, after those in power changed their plans from buying toxic assets to buying up equity in banks and major industries but refused to explain why, when they reasserted their right to decide ad hoc on these and so many other matters, supposing them to be beyond the general public's understanding, the American people started referring to those in and around government as the "ruling class." And in fact Republican and Democratic office holders and their retinues show a similar presumption to dominate and fewer differences in tastes, habits, opinions, and sources of income among one another than between both and the rest of the country. They think, look, and act as a class.

Although after the election of 2008 most Republican office holders argued against the Troubled Asset Relief Program, against the subsequent bailouts of the auto industry, against the several "stimulus" bills and further summary expansions of government power to benefit clients of government at the expense of ordinary citizens, the American people had every reason to believe that many Republican politicians were doing so simply by the logic of partisan opposition. After all, Republicans had been happy enough to approve of similar things under Republican administrations. Differences between Bushes, Clintons, and Obamas are of degree, not kind. Moreover, 2009-10 establishment Republicans sought only to modify the government's agenda while showing eagerness to join the Democrats in new grand schemes, if only they were allowed to. Sen. Orrin Hatch continued dreaming of being Ted Kennedy, while Lindsey Graham set aside what is true or false about "global warming" for the sake of getting on the right side of history. No prominent Republican challenged the ruling class's continued claim of superior insight, nor its denigration of the American people as irritable children who must learn their place. The Republican Party did not disparage the ruling class, because most of its officials are or would like to be part of it.

Never has there been so little diversity within America's upper crust. Always, in America as elsewhere, some people have been wealthier and more powerful than others. But until our own time America's upper crust was a mixture of people who had gained prominence in a variety of ways, who drew their money and status from different sources and were not predictably of one mind on any given matter. The Boston Brahmins, the New York financiers, the land barons of California, Texas, and Florida, the industrialists of Pittsburgh, the Southern aristocracy, and the hardscrabble politicians who made it big in Chicago or Memphis had little contact with one another. Few had much contact with government, and "bureaucrat" was a dirty word for all. So was "social engineering." Nor had the schools and universities that formed yesterday's upper crust imposed a single orthodoxy about the origins of man, about American history, and about how America should be governed. All that has changed.

Today's ruling class, from Boston to San Diego, was formed by an educational system that exposed them to the same ideas and gave them remarkably uniform guidance, as well as tastes and habits. These amount to a social canon of judgments about good and evil, complete with secular sacred history, sins (against minorities and the environment), and saints. Using the right words and avoiding the wrong ones when referring to such matters -- speaking the "in" language -- serves as a badge of identity. Regardless of what business or profession they are in, their road up included government channels and government money because, as government has grown, its boundary with the rest of American life has become indistinct. Many began their careers in government and leveraged their way into the private sector. Some, e.g., Secretary of the Treasury Timothy Geithner, never held a non-government job. Hence whether formally in government, out of it, or halfway, America's ruling class speaks the language and has the tastes, habits, and tools of bureaucrats. It rules uneasily over the majority of Americans not oriented to government.

The two classes have less in common culturally, dislike each other more, and embody ways of life more different from one another than did the 19th century's Northerners and Southerners -- nearly all of whom, as Lincoln reminded them, "prayed to the same God." By contrast, while most Americans pray to the God "who created and doth sustain us," our ruling class prays to itself as "saviors of the planet" and improvers of humanity. Our classes' clash is over "whose country" America is, over what way of life will prevail, over who is to defer to whom about what. The gravity of such divisions points us, as it did Lincoln, to Mark's Gospel: "if a house be divided against itself, that house cannot stand."

The Political Divide

Important as they are, our political divisions are the iceberg's tip. When pollsters ask the American people whether they are likely to vote Republican or Democrat in the next presidential election, Republicans win growing pluralities. But whenever pollsters add the preferences "undecided," "none of the above," or "tea party," these win handily, the Democrats come in second, and the Republicans trail far behind. That is because while most of the voters who call themselves Democrats say that Democratic officials represent them well, only a fourth of the voters who identify themselves as Republicans tell pollsters that Republican officeholders represent them well. Hence officeholders, Democrats and Republicans, gladden the hearts of some one-third of the electorate -- most Democratic voters, plus a few Republicans. This means that Democratic politicians are the ruling class's prime legitimate representatives and that because Republican politicians are supported by only a fourth of their voters while the rest vote for them reluctantly, most are aspirants for a junior role in the ruling class. In short, the ruling class has a party, the Democrats. But some two-thirds of Americans -- a few Democratic voters, most Republican voters, and all independents -- lack a vehicle in electoral politics.

That's only a fraction of the essay. And no, I haven't had neither the time nor the inclination to read the rest.

Unedified by the preceding...I reiterate that the only chance this country has to regain its footing is for the Republican party to dissolve, permanently.

See also:

Children of the UN?

Unity, A Ruse

On The Elite

The Alien Smore Tax

Recall we spent last week in the Hamptons. My kids wanted to have a campfire and do smores...

Already in possession of those new, huge, *toasting-size* marshmallows, I go to the local supermarket out there and buy a 6-pack of Hersey's bars, a box of Graham Crackers, and a bag of lemons (for lemonade).

What did each item cost? Well, I'm on *holiday* so it doesn't matter. What, am I going to tell the kids that we can't do smores because the ingredients are too expensive?

I ring it up at the self-checkout and the bill for these mere three items comes to $13.54.

What? I faintly recalled seeing *two prices* under the chocolate bars; and tiered pricing on the Graham Crackers as well. I guess they weren't on sale explicitly.

"Do I have to have one of those cards?", I hollered over to the clerk nearby. She responded in the affirmative and quietly swiped her Waldbaum's card through - but only because I sought her out and asked.

The bill dropped all the way to $9.00!

So there you have it....a 50% extra smore's tax on out-of-towners or anyone else thoughtless enough to not beg a cashier to swipe their card.

In the cutthroat, low-margin grocery business that's some serious *manufactured* profit.

At most stores the clerks will reflexively swipe their card for anyone without one. But there are a few out there (e.g. Harris Teeter down south) where it seems like a matter of policy to....to tax unsuspecting and/or forgetful Morons.

Camera Check

Pre-zoom:

Post-zoom:

It looks like the built-in 10x zoom feature on my chintzy digital camera ($180?) works really well. Click on the second pic to see the detail in full bloom.

After this exercise, my first with a somewhat powerful zoom,....I'll forever look askance at those female photographers on the beach with ginormous attached lens. What perverts!

Golf Channel's Birdies

All I have to say is that this show, now in its perhaps third installment, where young golf chicks compete for entries into lower-tier LPGA golf tournaments was a brilliant business/marketing play.

Realize that Golf Channel needs filler for its broadcasts beyond the latest informercial practice-aids that are *guaranteed* to lower one's handicap.

And not only is self-produced reality TV a great low-cost option....but this particular show is well-targeted to the typical Golf Channel addict - 'old coots'!

These dirty old men are all watching this program, and why wouldn't they? The producers pick only the youngest, perkiest female contestants. And in the course of the *drama*, they are continually bending over, stretching, and bouncing around in their skirts and tight blouses.

You non-males and non-golfers out there have to understand that seeing an attractive woman out on a golf course is nothing short of like espying an oasis over the desert horizon.  Seriously.

Both Cialis AND Viagra wanted to badly sponsor this show, and Golf Channel really wanted their money, but big wigs thought it would have been a bit too revelatory!

Scat Quack

I had no idea that Dr. Kellogg, the founder of the cereal brand and granola, was a complete QUACK:

It was the bowel that got Kellogg's undivided medical attention. Ninety percent of all illness, he would calmly explain, originated in the stomach and bowel. "The putrefactive changes which recur in the undigested residues of flesh foods" were to blame, he explained. Guests who arrived at Battle Creek soon learned that their once-pristine bowel was now a sewer of autointoxication, full of poisons like creatin, skatol and indol.
Kellogg's influence and enthusiasm made the bowel not only an acceptable subject of polite conversation, but a national obsession. More and more people became convinced that their bowel must be given an antiseptic cleansing. Autointoxication begone! The medical wizard of Battle Creek could provide the answer. The bowel, poisoned by meat-eating, drinking, smoking and usually anything pleasurable, was poked, prodded and otherwise assaulted by attendants at the San.

Kellogg made sure that the bowel of each and every patient was plied with water, from above and below. His favorite device was an enema machine ("just like one I saw in Germany") that could run fifteen gallons of water through an unfortunate bowel in a matter of seconds. Every water enema was followed by a pint of yogurt -- half was eaten, the other half was administered by enema "thus planting the protective germs where they are most needed and may render most effective service." The yogurt served to replace "the intestinal flora" of the bowel, creating what Kellogg claimed was a squeaky clean intestine.

If a healthy dollop of yogurt was not enough to do the trick, more drastic steps were necessary. If autointoxication persisted and poisons remained, the offending stretch of intestine was removed. Kellogg performed as many as twenty operations a day.

The result, Kellogg claimed, was nothing short of medical revolution. By pumping yogurt cultures into the rectums of America's well to do, Kellogg claimed that he had managed to cure "cancer of the stomach, ulcers, diabetes, schizophrenia, manic depressives, acne, anemia ... asthenia, migraine and premature old age." There was nothing a clean bowel couldn't handle.

Man was Dr. Kellogg a complete wack-job! Yogurt?

The guy was also AGAINST intercourse AND auto-gratification:

"A remedy [for masturbation] which is almost always successful in small boys is circumcision...The operation should be performed by a surgeon without administering an anesthetic, as the brief pain attending the operation will have a salutary effect upon the mind...In females, the author has found the application of pure carbolic acid to the clitoris an excellent means of allaying the abnormal excitement. " -- Dr. John Harvey Kellogg

And here's some more from that link on this *Scat Quack*:

Granola was only one of several delicacies the doctor designed for patients at The San. Other house specialties included Caramel Cereal Coffee, Bulgarian yogurt (Kellogg was big on yogurt), and meat substitutes Protose (like beefsteak) and Nuttose (like veal). At one point, Kellogg concentrated solely on nuts. He wrote a paper, "Nuts May Save the Race," and claimed to have invented peanut butter, along with several other nut spreads and Malted Nuts.

Though low on flavor, the ambitious menu helped turn the hospital around financially. Under Kellogg's guidance, most of the patients admitted to The San just needed a diet. They were overweight or overworked. They suffered from Americanitis, treatable with rest, room service and wheelchair socials. The cure rate became remarkably high since no one seriously ill was admitted.

No chronic masturbators were admitted either. Kellogg echoed Graham's doom-and-gloom views on the matter and even added to them. On the night of his honeymoon (more on this in a moment), he spent his time writing Plain Facts for Old and Young, a warning on the evils of sex. Of the 644 pages, 97 address "Secret Vice (Solitary Vice or Self-Abuse)," its symptoms and results. Included are 39 signs indicating someone is jacking off; a list comprehensive enough to indict everyone vaguely human: #7. Sleeplessnes, #11. Love of solitude, #12. Bashfulness and #13. Unnatural boldness, #14. Confusion of ideas, #24. Capricious appetite, #28. Use of tobacco, #30. Acne.

Such was Dr. Kellogg's power play: in rejecting known masturbators from the hospital, he avoided acknowledging there was no real cure. Yet his theories gave him an outlet from poor slobs the hospital diet couldn't help. Dr. Kellogg could diagnose them as masturbators and thus pass responsibility for the problem onto the patient. If the illness persisted, that was proof of secret vice, or that the problem was long-term or irreversible. Dr. Kellogg was never wrong. In fact, he made an issue of abstaining from all sexual relations himself, supposedly to prove that sex was not necessary to health. Though he married Ella Eaton, their marriage was never consummated and they lived in separate apartments.

Book Summary - Omnivore's Dilemma

One of you clowns recommended this book to me in my comment section a while back. So I finally reserved it, picked it up last night, and swallowed it whole in one day!

What's it about? Well the title and subtitle - The Secrets Behind What You Eat - lend a sufficient clue.

It was about *how they make the sausage*. Don't want to know, right? Don't ask, don't tell....whatever you do, don't think too deeply about the *animal Holocaust* that you subsidize.

Except I learned some very interesting things from this book. I had no idea that *corn* dominated almost the entire supermarket. The author, Michael Pollan, goes into great detail as to how and why corn products became and reign supreme. He actually blames Big Government intervention!

But first the corn conspiracy theory. From one of his online articles:

For the great edifice of variety and choice that is an American supermarket rests on a remarkably narrow biological foundation: corn. It’s not merely the feed that the steers and the chickens and the pigs and the turkeys ate; it’s not just the source of the flour and the oil and the leavenings, the glycerides and coloring in the processed foods; it’s not just sweetening the soft drinks or lending a shine to the magazine cover over by the checkout. The supermarket itself–the wallboard and joint compound, the linoleum and fiberglass and adhesives out of which the building itself has been built–is in no small measure a manifestation of corn.

There are some 45,000 items in the average American supermarket, and more than a quarter of them contain corn. At the same time, the food industry has done a good job of persuading us that the 45,000 different items or SKUs (stock keeping units) represent genuine variety rather than the clever rearrangements of molecules extracted from the same plant.

And from his book, look at the McDonald's breakdown. This his how much of its *carbon* comes from corn:

Soda (100% corn)
Milk shake (78% corn)
Salad dressing (65% corn)
Chicken nuggets (56% corn)
Cheeseburger (52% corn)
French Fries (23% corn)

Not having thought much about the food that I transform into scat....I had no idea before reading this book that chickens and cattle these days were force-fed corn, a food they wouldn't naturally eat. Apparently grain-fed cattle can be slaughtered at only 15 months or so whereas it takes grass-fed cattle 5 years to fatten sufficiently.  Obviously the latter is more profitable to raise.

Pollan talks about what he calls Big Organic or the industrial organic industry. Consider *Rosie* a Whole Foods chicken:

Rosie lives in a shed with twenty thousand other Rosies. Ah, you ask, what about the "free-range" words on Rosie's label. Doesn't that mean they can "freely range" outside? Not exactly. It's true there's a little door in each shed leading out to a narrow grassy yard. But here's the catch: The door remains FIRMLY SHUT until the birds are at least five weeks old. By that time they are so used to the shed that none of them go outside. And then all of them are slaughtered two weeks later.

Rosie and all the other chickens raised at Petaluma are the same breed: Cornish Cross broilers. The Cornish Cross is a a type of chicken bred for the industrial food chain. It is the fastest-growing chicken ever, turning corn into meat faster than any other bird. They go from egg to full size in just seven weeks. In fact, the birds grow so rapidly that their poor legs cannon keep up. Often, by seven weeks, Rosie can no longer walk.

I absolutely love the FIRMLY SHUT door, the 5 week *re-education* regimen, and the fact that the farm's first four letters are P-E-T-A!!!

Compared to conventional chickens, I was told, these organic birds have it pretty good. They get a few more square inches of living space per bird. (It was hard to see how they could be packed together more tightly.) Because there are no hormones or antibiotics in their feed to speed growth, they get to live a few days longer.

...USDA rules say an organic chicken should have "access to the outdoors."

Admittedly, this book opened my eyes to a lot I hadn't known. But by no means did it close my mouth or stomach. I won't be one of the alleged thousands he's converted to vegetarianism or organic foods.

I'm a pretty healthy eater anyway, and have been trending up in this department for some time. Though I can throw them back and enjoy it tremendously, I'm essentially only a *social drinker* these days. I only drink outside of my house and only on somewhat special occasions.  I've reduced my portion size with everything - notably pizza and ice cream - without any suffering.  And it was my wife, some 10+ years ago that set me down this *healthier eating* path.  Back then I had never even looked at a food label! 

So am I on the brink of paying up for organic meat?  I don't think so.  While there's plenty of *meat* behind the food wackos arguments, in terms of toxic pesticides and whatnot, there's also a glaring lack of evidence.  They can prattle on about a single Mad Cow disease outbreak for years but I remain unmoved by the math, by too many standard deviations from the norm.

In a nutshell, that's how I felt about the book.  Pollan's book does a wonderful job of answering the *what* of "what are we eating?" but it doesn't do such a good job proving consequences or of telling us *why* and *how* processed, chemical-laden food is hurting us.  To his credit, he writes humbly and fully self-conscious - and only mentions the inanity of *global warming* three of four times.  As I said to my wife, "I can't hold that against him because 'the environment' gets plugged every 3 pages in a newspaper or magazine!"

I'm just not about to turn eating into a sacred ritual when I can purify myself in so many more pressing ways.  Pollan, from what I can tell, is a native Northeasterner (Long Island?) who has no religion in his life.  For these types, it's almost a 100% given that they will be drawn to eco-paganism, self-centered hedonism, money worship, or religious sports fanaticism.  It's simply human nature to NEED meaning in our lives.

When I first got this book my wife waxed skeptical - warning me not to go down this road; not to over-analyze the crap that I ate.

I snapped back somewhat indignantly at the woman who should know me better.  I told her the last thing I would ever be afraid of on this over-heated planet was *the truth*.  And I boldly asserted that there wasn't a better equipped person in this spontaneously-arisen-out-of-nothing(!) galaxy...to detect and defuse sophistry.

Always Moving Around

I am out in the Hamptons for at least the next 5 days. There is computer access here but I have to share it with people who have lower PageRanks!

I've brought myself a couple of books - The First Man by Albert Camus and The Big Short by Michael Lewis.

The former came from my MIL's huge library of classics. She's been after me to read Camus (pronounced "Cam-ooo") for some time. The book I grabbed (and have almost killed already!) was published posthumously and is largely autobiographical. I'm in! I think he's a tremendously articulate and thoughtful guy. So which of his books should I read next? Any suggestions?

The Colony

I caught the first two episodes of this Discovery show last night.

It's not bad - not bad at all. The Colony is a fusion of reality TV and apocalyptic fiction. It simulates the fallout from a global disaster (like *public schools*!) and its narrative is spiced up with marauding *others* a la Lost.

It appears to be the second season now. Some of the complaints about the first season were that it was *too contrived*. So I take it that those critics avoid the other gazillion contrived color TV programs like 24, Law & Order, Desperate Housewives, and the evening news!

Too Much Cake and Ale!

Here is a true story someone found regarding exams at Cambridge University. It seems that during an examination one day a bright young student popped up and asked the proctor to bring him Cakes and Ale. The following dialog ensued:

Proctor: I beg your pardon?

Student: Sir, I request that you bring me Cakes and Ale.

Proctor: Sorry, no.

Student: Sir, I really must insist. I request and require that you bring me Cakes and Ale.

At this point, the student produced a copy of the four hundred year old Laws of Cambridge, written in Latin and still nominally in effect, and pointed to the section which read (rough translation from the Latin):

"Gentlemen sitting examinations may request and require Cakes and Ale."

Pepsi and hamburgers were judged the modern equivalent, and the student sat there, writing his examination and happily slurping away.

Three weeks later the student was fined five pounds for not wearing a sword to the examination.

Pretty darn funny!

For a glimpse, and an explanation of the pic above, into the hallowed halls of Cambridge today, click here and here.

No Towels Back Then?

Okay, click this image to enlarge. It depicts someplace in Kabul, Afghanistan in 1970 and again *now*:

Clearly that must be all *Bush's fault* or something!

Where Did That Evidence Go?

See if y'all can spot it!

For Corporate Wage Slaves...

Do you keep falling asleep in meetings and seminars? What about those long and boring conference calls? Here's a way to change all of that.

1. Before (or during) the next meeting, seminar, or conference call, prepare yourself by drawing a square. I find that 5" x 5" is a good size. Divide the card into columns-five across and five down. That will give you 25 one-inch blocks.

2. Write one of the following words/phrases in each block: Synergy, strategic fit, core competencies, best practice, bottom line, revisit, expeditious, to tell you the truth (or "the truth is), 24/7, out of the loop, benchmark, value-added, proactive, win-win, think outside the box, fast track, result-driven, knowledge base, at the end of the day, touch base, mindset, client focus(ed), paradigm, game plan, leverage.

3. Now check off the appropriate block when you hear one of those words/phrases.

4. When you get five blocks horizontally, vertically, or diagonally stand up and shout "BULL$HIT!"
___
"Real Testimonials" from satisfied players:

"I had been in the meeting for only five minutes when I won." - Adam W., Atlanta

"My attention span at meetings has improved dramatically." - David T., Orlando

"What a gas! Meetings will never be the same for me after my first win." - Dan J., New York City

"The atmosphere was tense in the last process meeting as 14 of us waited for the fifth box." - Ben G., Denver

"The speaker was stunned as eight of us screamed 'BULL$HIT!' for the third time in two hours. The Bull$hit Bingo Championship will be played at the next meeting." - Rod H

Barry Ritholtz, Panhandler?

If you click on my buddy Barry Ritholtz's profile....you'll find a link to his Amazon Wish List right below his moniker.

Obviously, despite the millions he reaps from his asset management *skim biz* he's still looking for a little *tax-free* compensation from his servile flatterers!

Interestingly, I found the following book titles in the self-styled *non-partisan's* wishlist:

Climate Cover-Up - The Crusade To Deny Global Warming

Why Evolution Is True

Storms of My Grandchildren: The Truth About the Coming Climate Catastrophe and the Last Chance to Save Humanity

Hah! That last one was a doozy. The *Last Chance*???

There are probably a few more funny ones in there - it's just that I haven't time enough to pore through all 34 PAGES!

That's right. Barry took the time to select an ASTOUNDING 849 small-change items for his wishlist!

And y'all probably thought it was bad for my other pal, Perry Eidelbus, to have LEGO Batman on his wish list...

See also - Barry Ritholtz - Self-Unconscious, Dissembling PARTISAN.

Airhead?

No Comment...

Except uproarious laughter.

Remember the GOLF Acronym

A father put his 3 year old daughter to bed, told her a story and listened to her prayers which ended by saying: "God bless Mommy, God bless Daddy, God bless Grandma and goodbye Grandpa."

The father asked, "Why did you say goodbye Grandpa?"

The little girl said, "I don't know Daddy, it just seemed like the thing to do."

The next day grandpa died. The father thought it was a strange coincidence.

A few months later the father put the girl to bed and listened to her prayers which went like this: "God bless Mommy, God Bless Daddy and goodbye Grandma."

The next day the grandmother died. "Holy Moley, thought the father, this kid is in contact with the other side.

Several weeks later when the girl was going to bed the dad heard her say: "God bless Mommy and goodbye Daddy." He practically went into shock.

He couldn't sleep all night and got up at the crack of dawn to go to his office. He was nervous as a cat all day, had lunch and watched the clock. He figured if he could get by until midnight he would be okay. He felt safe in the office, so instead of going home at the end of the day he stayed there, drinking coffee, looking at his watch and jumping at every sound. Finally, midnight arrived, he breathed a sigh of relief and went home. When he got home his wife said, "I've never seen you work so late, what's the matter?"

He said, "I don't want to talk about it, I've just spent the worst day of my life."

She said, "You think you had a bad day, you'll never believe what happened to me. This morning my golf pro dropped dead in the middle of my lesson!"

Embellished or not....it's yet another argument to discourage your life partner from your pastime. How else can it be a sanctuary?

Recall - I Bite Back!

Check it out ↑

Environmentalists Pollute Earth with Socialism

That's the *custom* bumper sticker that I'm about to order and adorn my car with. I believe it will only cost $3 or so.

I thought the color green was a nice touch, no?

The only problem with annoying passers-by with such truth is that surely one of them will key my car or something. These eco-pagans are just seething with hatred. Have you ever met one?

I have to remember to order a couple extra. I can't wait to stick one on my *green* cousin's hybrid car - a vehicle that, even though he makes about 10 international flights each year,...it's a car that he still manages to drive, with no passengers, over 20,000 miles annually!

Sunday Scat - An Ingenious Combo Device!

Check out the - Fart Operated Random Channel Remote.

New Rodent Problem

Having had quite enough of the rats and mice in that house we rented in Boston....now we have a new animal problem here on Long Island - raccoons!

Three times already they've got into and torn up my trash bags. You can't leave ANYTHING out, EVER; and you can't forget to close the garage door at night - otherwise they just come in and tear the trash up inside it.

And even when you're diligent about protecting the garbage they can still torture you. Twice already I've been woken up by to-the-death-sounding raccoon fights right outside my bedroom window.

There are tons of high trees around here; we are near the water; and being New York there's plenty of good scavenging around. So it's not like just one or two backyard rodents that need to be *taken care of*.

My wife says, "Now you can see why my father was out there with a gun trying to shoot them!"

It's funny, how subsequent generations end up dealing with the same issues. In fact, Mrs. C-Nut's brother a few years ago killed a coon in his house around this same area with a bow and arrow.

Now I would never dare try to trap these animals in one of those *humane* cages. But the idea of getting a bow and arrow, accidentally leaving the trash out, and sitting up all night by the window seems like it could be good sport. It seems like it'd be a whole lot more fun than shooting a squirrel with BB!

See also - Mice Body Count - 13.

Full-Service, Funny Bone Massage

Nasty Fridge Dissection

This is the back of my MIL's fridge:

Thanks to the helpful suggestions from y'all....I pulled it out and did try just now to clean it. We'll see if it works or if I cleaned it correctly. I did the best job I could vacuuming the plentiful dust and dirt away.

One problem with going out and buying a new one is that the space there is a little tight - a couple inches on top and maybe one short in width. We'd hate to buy a new somewhat compact refrigerator only to redo the entire kitchen not too long after - that is one of my wife's current pipe dreams.

We had an absolutely tremendous kitchen in that rat-house that we rented. It had counter-space galore, a bar, two sinks, etc. And we knew all along that we'd be facing the agony, no matter where we'd move, of most likely a less functional kitchen. So we are having enough *adjustment problems* already without the food spoiling every two days. Plus it would be nice to have a water and ice dispenser on the door again. It's the type of luxury that once enjoyed, you simply can't give up.