I would eat one banana and a Cliff Bar prior to a race. The Cliff Bar guarantees that the race will only be the second most physically challenging part of your day.
Quote of the Day
Googling for "what to eat before a marathon", this was one of the answers:
What the Heck Facebook: Part N of an M Part Series
This ad showed up on my sidebar today:
Apparently advertisers have caught on that Facebook's demographic is aging. Some users may need a bit of pharmaceutical assistance before they find other facebook ads appealing.
Apparently advertisers have caught on that Facebook's demographic is aging. Some users may need a bit of pharmaceutical assistance before they find other facebook ads appealing.
Your Math For the Day
Update: The more I look at this code, the less certain I am that it's correct. But since it's here, I'm leaving it.
I finally wrapped my head around the Birthday Paradox today. You can go ahead and look that up on Wikipedia, but it will make your brain melt. I see all of those wacky mathy symbols and start wondering what's for dinner. I'll to explain in a way that any old moron can understand, because that's basically all I can figure out.
The basic question is "how many people do you have to get together before the odds are better than 50/50 that two of them share a birthday?" A common initial reaction is to say that it would be
180
183 (this would be more than one half of 365). If you think about that for a minute, you'll realize that180 183 people can't be the answer because each person relates to each other person. There are a lot of possible connections. So how do you find exactly how many?
My first thought was that it was a problem of graphing all possible connections between the n number of people in the room. To simplify, I'll illustrate with four:
Using that logic, there are 4 people with 6 possible connections. So whatever number of people would make over
182
183 connections would be the correct number. The formula for that is recursive: edges(n) = (n-1) + edges(n-1). I'll save you the math, the answer is19 20. But according to wikipedia, that's not correct either.
Thinking that over again, I realized that for every person in the room who doesn't match anyone else, a birthdate is eliminated. We no longer have to take that date into consideration when checking anyone after that. So the odds of a match increase with every person who doesn't match. This is unlike, say, flipping a coin where the odds of a result are independent of the earlier results. It's more like picking the Ace of Spades from a deck of cards. With every card that isn't the Ace of Spades, there are fewer cards to choose from can be it.
The birthday paradox works the same way. For the first guy (Arthur), there is a 1/365 chance that he matches with the next person he talks to (Brad). Then there's a 1/365 chance of Arthur being a match with the guy after that (Carl), etc. So the odds of him matching someone else are (1/365)^n (where n is the total number of people in the room).
But when Arthur has spoken to everyone in the room, we know that his birthday (let's say Jan 1) is not shared with anyone in the room. Therefore we don't even think of Jan 1 as being an option for the next guy. So Brad will have a 1/364 chance of matching with Carl, a 1/364 chance of matching with Dave, a 1/364 chance of matching with Eric, etc. That is, his total odds of matching with someone are (1/364)^(n-1). (The n-1 is because we already know he doesn't match with Arthur. We don't want to count that combination twice.)
The odds that Arthur doesn't match anyone AND Brad doesn't match anyone are calculated by multiplying the two sets of odds together: (1/365)^n * (1/364)^(n-1). This continues for each person in the room. Subtract from n and multiply by the odds of the previous guys. The formula eventually works out to:
(1/(365-0))^n * (1/(365-1))^(n-1) * (1/(365-2))^(n-2) ... (1/365-(step_number-1))^1
If that looks like the unreadable stepchild of Lisp and Perl, I also wrote a nice succinct Ruby scipt to sum it up:
Keep running that until you get a number over 0.5.
*SPOILER* 23. Now you are enlightened! Hopefully. Otherwise, it's probably because I explained it badly. You can have your money back on this post.
Edit (08/28/09 11:30am): I fixed a couple of errors. Notes to self: Don't do long strings of addition in your head. You will get them wrong. Also, in a math post about statistics, don't round numbers to the nearest ten. Half of 365 is not 180.
I finally wrapped my head around the Birthday Paradox today. You can go ahead and look that up on Wikipedia, but it will make your brain melt. I see all of those wacky mathy symbols and start wondering what's for dinner. I'll to explain in a way that any old moron can understand, because that's basically all I can figure out.
The basic question is "how many people do you have to get together before the odds are better than 50/50 that two of them share a birthday?" A common initial reaction is to say that it would be
180
183 (this would be more than one half of 365). If you think about that for a minute, you'll realize that
My first thought was that it was a problem of graphing all possible connections between the n number of people in the room. To simplify, I'll illustrate with four:
A<-->B
A<-->C
A<-->D
B<-->C
B<-->D
C<-->D
Using that logic, there are 4 people with 6 possible connections. So whatever number of people would make over
182
183 connections would be the correct number. The formula for that is recursive: edges(n) = (n-1) + edges(n-1). I'll save you the math, the answer is
Thinking that over again, I realized that for every person in the room who doesn't match anyone else, a birthdate is eliminated. We no longer have to take that date into consideration when checking anyone after that. So the odds of a match increase with every person who doesn't match. This is unlike, say, flipping a coin where the odds of a result are independent of the earlier results. It's more like picking the Ace of Spades from a deck of cards. With every card that isn't the Ace of Spades, there are fewer cards to choose from can be it.
The birthday paradox works the same way. For the first guy (Arthur), there is a 1/365 chance that he matches with the next person he talks to (Brad). Then there's a 1/365 chance of Arthur being a match with the guy after that (Carl), etc. So the odds of him matching someone else are (1/365)^n (where n is the total number of people in the room).
But when Arthur has spoken to everyone in the room, we know that his birthday (let's say Jan 1) is not shared with anyone in the room. Therefore we don't even think of Jan 1 as being an option for the next guy. So Brad will have a 1/364 chance of matching with Carl, a 1/364 chance of matching with Dave, a 1/364 chance of matching with Eric, etc. That is, his total odds of matching with someone are (1/364)^(n-1). (The n-1 is because we already know he doesn't match with Arthur. We don't want to count that combination twice.)
The odds that Arthur doesn't match anyone AND Brad doesn't match anyone are calculated by multiplying the two sets of odds together: (1/365)^n * (1/364)^(n-1). This continues for each person in the room. Subtract from n and multiply by the odds of the previous guys. The formula eventually works out to:
(1/(365-0))^n * (1/(365-1))^(n-1) * (1/(365-2))^(n-2) ... (1/365-(step_number-1))^1
If that looks like the unreadable stepchild of Lisp and Perl, I also wrote a nice succinct Ruby scipt to sum it up:
#!/usr/bin/ruby -w
def birthday_paradox(people, days)
odds = 1.0
people.downto(1) do | i |
odds_of_nonmatch_this_round =
((days.to_f - 1) / days.to_f) ** (i - 1)
odds *= odds_of_nonmatch_this_round
days -= 1
end
return 1 - odds
end
Keep running that until you get a number over 0.5.
*SPOILER* 23. Now you are enlightened! Hopefully. Otherwise, it's probably because I explained it badly. You can have your money back on this post.
Edit (08/28/09 11:30am): I fixed a couple of errors. Notes to self: Don't do long strings of addition in your head. You will get them wrong. Also, in a math post about statistics, don't round numbers to the nearest ten. Half of 365 is not 180.
And Now For Weather...
When I was checking the weather yesterday, I noticed that it was listed as "partly sunny" all day until 7pm. That's when the listing changed over the night-themed weather icons. At that point, the forecast changed to "partly cloudy."
Is there a legitimate difference, or was the site just too embarassed to use the phrase "partly moony"?
Plusgood Miniplenty Eliminates Need For Ownlife
Let me be the first to say, President Obama's health care plan is a flawless idea.
If there's one thing that will fix our flawed and complicated health care system, it's a half-thought-out, largely unread monstrosity of a law rushed through as quickly as humanly possible (or Congressionally possible, I guess. Humans have to get their work done before they can take a month-long vacation).
Anyway, my small and uneducated words will not do justice to this golden gift from on high. I make my pronouncement not because I have something of worth to add (for, lo, I am unworthy to loosen the cap of his Bud Light) but because I want to make sure my intentions are not misunderstood. Citizens are urged to report bloggers who are promoting ungoodthink about healthcare, and I wish to register myself as an goodthinker now rather than wait for another election in which I can atone for not voting for Obama.
Heed this pronouncement!:
Anyone promoting ungoodthink will feel the fierce, fiery, flaming (farty?) fury of Flametroll rhetoric! Don't make me report you!
If there's one thing that will fix our flawed and complicated health care system, it's a half-thought-out, largely unread monstrosity of a law rushed through as quickly as humanly possible (or Congressionally possible, I guess. Humans have to get their work done before they can take a month-long vacation).
Anyway, my small and uneducated words will not do justice to this golden gift from on high. I make my pronouncement not because I have something of worth to add (for, lo, I am unworthy to loosen the cap of his Bud Light) but because I want to make sure my intentions are not misunderstood. Citizens are urged to report bloggers who are promoting ungoodthink about healthcare, and I wish to register myself as an goodthinker now rather than wait for another election in which I can atone for not voting for Obama.
Heed this pronouncement!:
There is a lot of disinformation about health insurance reform out there, spanning from control of personal finances to end of life care. [...] If you get an email or see something on the web about health insurance reform that seems fishy, send it to flag@whitehouse.gov.
Anyone promoting ungoodthink will feel the fierce, fiery, flaming (farty?) fury of Flametroll rhetoric! Don't make me report you!
This is Happening Way Too Much to Be a Coincidence...
Who here is from Brazil? And how do you make up 10% of my blog's total hits*?
* That last question was rhetorical. No one else actually reads my blog.
* That last question was rhetorical. No one else actually reads my blog.
President Obama: I Neither Know nor Care About Beer
Well, not in so many words. But he chose to have a Bud Light.
Down the Rabbit Hole
I was bored recently, so I read some of my old blog posts. You may think that reading your own blog is the innermost layer of the narcissism onion. It is not. Blogging about reading your own blog is even worse.
LV 2 BLOG
On the highway today, I saw a license plate that I thought said "MARK WTF". I laughed, wondering if that's what Mark's friends said to him when he bought that expensive SUV in this economy.
As I got closer, I saw that it actually said "MARX WYF". That's seems unlikely, as Jenny von Westphalen died in 1881. I guess it actually must have been a shortened form of what the driver really wanted to have on her license plate: "I'M MARRIED TO MARK SO STAY BACK YOU HUSSIES!" Unfortunately, those doggone license plate length limits and lack of punctuation made that message difficult to send. I just don't feel like the new plate packs the same wallop.
As I got closer, I saw that it actually said "MARX WYF". That's seems unlikely, as Jenny von Westphalen died in 1881. I guess it actually must have been a shortened form of what the driver really wanted to have on her license plate: "I'M MARRIED TO MARK SO STAY BACK YOU HUSSIES!" Unfortunately, those doggone license plate length limits and lack of punctuation made that message difficult to send. I just don't feel like the new plate packs the same wallop.
Abashing The Cat: Just as Wrong as it Sounds
Every so often I walk in on my roommate's cat straddling this rainbow feather duster we have laying around the house. You may not think a cat is capable of looking embarrassed, but you've probably never caught one doing that either. He looks up and meows something like the cat equivalent of "This isn't what it looks like! I was doing the Heimlich...I mean we were rearranging the furniture...I mean...ehh forget it" then we both feel awkward and we avoid making eye contact for the rest of the day.
When I'm Sixty Five
We got a new online 401k tracking system at work last week. I was looking over it and found that my retirement date is scheduled for 2050. I hope they develop flying cars by then so that I can be part of the first generation of old people to obstruct traffic in three dimensions.
Maybe four, even, if scientists get cracking on wormholes.
Maybe four, even, if scientists get cracking on wormholes.
New Design
We're trying out a new design here at the Flametroll. I'm sure you'll like it. If not, put a sock in it because I run this blog for my amusement not yours.
It's Kind of Gross Up There
I keep seeing this commercial for a place called Sybaris. It's a... uhh..."resort" for... umm... "romantic getaways." If that sounds sleazy, you haven't even seen the commercial.
I'll let you ponder that for a bit.
Recovered your sanity now? Cool. Anyway, I don't know if it was such a wise decision to name the place something that sounds so much like syphilis. Might as well call it "Gonorrh-otica". Or as my roommate suggested, "Herplex."
It turns out that Sybaris was a legendary Greek island of pleasure. So apparently it was named by an out of touch literature professor. Or maybe just an literature professor who's a total perv. I suspect that's a problem for a lot of them. I mean, they can see dozens of phallic symbols in a chapter of The Scarlet Letter when I wasn't even sure a lot of the chapters included so much as a plot.
Anyway, that's what's been on my mind lately. I guess that's why people have stopped asking.
I'll let you ponder that for a bit.
Recovered your sanity now? Cool. Anyway, I don't know if it was such a wise decision to name the place something that sounds so much like syphilis. Might as well call it "Gonorrh-otica". Or as my roommate suggested, "Herplex."
It turns out that Sybaris was a legendary Greek island of pleasure. So apparently it was named by an out of touch literature professor. Or maybe just an literature professor who's a total perv. I suspect that's a problem for a lot of them. I mean, they can see dozens of phallic symbols in a chapter of The Scarlet Letter when I wasn't even sure a lot of the chapters included so much as a plot.
Anyway, that's what's been on my mind lately. I guess that's why people have stopped asking.
Come On Get Down Chuck Up With the Sickness
I saw people vomit on back to back days this weekend.They say you should start a story off with a line that will catch people's attention. I think that should do it.
Yesterday, I was working a beer stand a Miller Park for the Brewers/White Sox game. If there's two towns whose fans know how to drink, it's Chicago and Milwaukee. For Yankee/Mets fans, drunkenness is mainly a means to increase their level of belligerence. For Philadelphians, it's not so much a drink as a projectile. For Brewers/Cubs/Sox fans, on the other hand, drinking beer is an end in itself.
Anyway, around the fourth inning, an usher...umm...ushered a girl over to a folding chair behind our stand. He said she wasn't feeling well and walked off. Almost immediately, the girl puked all over. I ran to get the usher, who didn't seem all that plussed. He called maintenance for a cleanup. The girl disappeared. I assume she was taken away from our beer stand so she wouldn't be a walking (or rather unsteadily sitting) anti-drunkenness PSA.
We sold four kegs of beer during the course of the game. With foam included, that turns out to produce a lot of runoff. It all goes down into a tank, which had to be emptied out once the game ended. So there I was, emptying what was probably a 40-gallon tank through a tiny hose into a 5 gallon bucket. I felt a little bit like Hercules, not in the god-like superhuman strength sense, but more in the endless dull repetitive task sense. Emptying the Augean bilge bucket.*
There was nowhere else to dump the bucket, so I took it into the nearest bathroom to empty it down the sink (gross, I know, but that's what they told me to do). On my way in, an usher warned me that I couldn't clean yet because there was still someone in there. I told him I was just going in to dump my bucket and he understood that I was not using a euphemism.
Inside the bathroom, I saw a pair of feet under the last stall in the row. I didn't think much of it, and went out to refill the bucket. I came in again and the feet were still there. By my fifth-ish time into the bathroom, the usher had apparently become concerned for the person still in the stall. Three police officers went in to check on the occupant.
An officer knocked on the stall door. "Are you ok in there?" No response. "Is everything ok?" No response. "This is the police. We're just here to make sure you're alright." No response. An officer went into the adjoining stall and looked over the divider.
There are a number of things I expected the officers to say right about then. "Do you want us to call the paramedics?" or "Sir please put your pants on." Something along those lines. Instead, what I heard will remain forever imbedded in my memory.
"Ma'am, are you aware that you're in a men's restroom?"
Oh yeah, I guess I should complete the story I promised you at the beginning of the post. I saw a guy by the side of the road throwing up next to his car this morning.
*"Bilge bucket" is a great word and I'm disappointed it's taken me five years to actually use it in a blog
I'm Not Sure Whether this is an Error or Not
"He's passed out in the back right now. When he sobers up, I'll ask him about tour dates and get back to you."
He's Still Posting?!?
Sorry, I know I've been filling up your RSS feeds lately. But I keep getting interesting spam, so what do you want me to do?
When I saw this one, I was so amused by the Gmail "preview" sentence, that I just had to open it (after checking for attachments of course).
A "matured[sic] man with sense of humour"? You clearly haven't been reading my blog, Melissa.
I don't think I've ever had a relationship start with "I think we should be friends." I guess we can get the define-the-relationship and the breakup talks over all on the same day. That will certainly save some time.
Also, she thinks I'm cute. This is my Gmail user picture:
Lots of descriptions come to mind: serious, studious, pompous, self-absorbed, sepia-tinted. I'm sure you can think of plenty more; feel free to put them in the comments so I can keep my raging ego in check.
"You know what they say, appearance wins over the eyes, but personality wins over the heart...haha." Actually I've never heard anyone say that, but I can overlook your awkward over-long made-up proverb because you actually spelled out "haha." I appreciate good onomatopoeic email laughter. Thank you for not LOLing.
In fact, having passed that hurdle the only thing standing between you and this sepia-tinted hunk is that you agree to the Scrabble/President naming rules for my children. In fact I was just discussing those rules with Bobby the other day. I think laying down the rules for naming your hypothetical progeny is a great conversation starter for a first date. "The best part" Bobby said "is that they'll all be first dates."
So anyway, Melissa, I hope we can keep in contact. I should tell you that I'm filthy rich in Nigeria. If you don't mind sending me your bank account numbers, I can get that money into the United States and leave you a healthy share of it. Please do be keeping correspondance in order for ease of transferring appreciated!
When I saw this one, I was so amused by the Gmail "preview" sentence, that I just had to open it (after checking for attachments of course).
Hi Friend,
I am Melissa Agnes Able, 25 yrs old girl in search of a man who understands love as trust and faith rather seeing it as a way of fun always but a matured man with sense of humour. I’m interested in having a relationship with you and I want to know more about you, let see if we can share common interest together.
I think we should be friends and get acquainted, cause you seem pretty fun, and cute! (It’s ever so hard to tell in this digital world :) anyway, I want to get a response from you...Then maybe we could chat sometime! You know what they say, appearance wins over the eyes, but personality wins over the heart...haha.
I believe we can start from here; if you don’t mind you can email me back with brief introduction of your self and I shall tell you more details that you will like to know about me including pictures of me so you can see how beautiful I am. Enjoy your beautiful day, talk to you very soon.
Cheers,
Melissa
[Ed: yes, it really was in Comic Sans]
A "matured[sic] man with sense of humour"? You clearly haven't been reading my blog, Melissa.
I don't think I've ever had a relationship start with "I think we should be friends." I guess we can get the define-the-relationship and the breakup talks over all on the same day. That will certainly save some time.
Also, she thinks I'm cute. This is my Gmail user picture:
Lots of descriptions come to mind: serious, studious, pompous, self-absorbed, sepia-tinted. I'm sure you can think of plenty more; feel free to put them in the comments so I can keep my raging ego in check."You know what they say, appearance wins over the eyes, but personality wins over the heart...haha." Actually I've never heard anyone say that, but I can overlook your awkward over-long made-up proverb because you actually spelled out "haha." I appreciate good onomatopoeic email laughter. Thank you for not LOLing.
In fact, having passed that hurdle the only thing standing between you and this sepia-tinted hunk is that you agree to the Scrabble/President naming rules for my children. In fact I was just discussing those rules with Bobby the other day. I think laying down the rules for naming your hypothetical progeny is a great conversation starter for a first date. "The best part" Bobby said "is that they'll all be first dates."
So anyway, Melissa, I hope we can keep in contact. I should tell you that I'm filthy rich in Nigeria. If you don't mind sending me your bank account numbers, I can get that money into the United States and leave you a healthy share of it. Please do be keeping correspondance in order for ease of transferring appreciated!
Tonight's Nightmare Material Brought to You By...
No, this isn't a before-and-after shot of Major Toht from Raiders of the Lost Ark. It's an artist and his art. Keep reminding yourself of that.
Sex-C Time!
I decided to check my spam filter to make sure I wasn't missing the email from the previously mentioned Acer lady. Her email was not there, but there was an email warning me to "Beware of Undefined Sex!!!" I'm not sure what undefined sex is, but I have a guess.
I'm not sure what exactly would happen, but it would end badly for sure.
#include <stdio.h>
#include <sexlib.h>
main()
{
int* person;
have_sex(person);
}
I'm not sure what exactly would happen, but it would end badly for sure.
In Which I Adminster My Own Tech Support in Spite of the Tech Support Lady's Attempts to Stop Me
I bought a monitor for my laptop last week. It's 23" and pretty great, when it works. Which is not now. Now it doesn't work at all. I'm pretty decent with electronic equipment, and I've tried every permutation of plugging, unplugging and pushing buttons on this thing. No dice.
So I called Acer's help line. After taking my information, the monitor's information, asking me what the serial number of my computer is (it's a Mac and does not have an Acer SI number, strangely enough), she finally got down to troubleshooting.
"Unplug the monitor and hold the power button for 30 seconds."
"From the computer or from the power?"
"Both."
Now I have no idea what effect you might get from holding down the power button on an unplugged monitor, but she's the Acer person not me. So I do. Unremarkably nothing happens.
She asks me what's wrong now. I explain that it's the same thing that was wrong before. Befuddled, she puts me on hold.
Next she tells me to plug the monitor back into the power and the computer (which we computer science majors refer to as "the actual way to use a monitor"). I do. Oddly enough, the problem persists. Her telling me to do so does not make it behave any differently from when I do it without her telling me to (tangent: that reminds me of a joke.)
Ok, she says, it appears to be a problem with the monitor. No kidding, huh. All I have to do is send it back to them (I'll pay for shipping of course). I ask where to send it to and she won't tell me. "I'll forward it to you" she says several times. I know this is crap because I never remember to forward emails to people unless they're physically sitting next to me asking for them. And there is no further way for me to get in contact with her once this conversation ends.
So sure enough, it's 10 hours later and I still have not received this mysterious email. So here's what I'm going to have to do tomorrow: pack the monitor up into its box, call Acer again and interrogate this undisclosed shipping location out of some lowly grunt, go to the post office, pay through the $crude_body_part to have it shipped, wait 2 to 4 to 26 weeks for Acer to fix it or send me another one. And it just occurs to me that I'm in the process of moving to a new apartment and I'm going to have to convince the Acer grunt I talk to tomorrow to change my shipping address to the new place because there's no way they're going to be sending my monitor back before the end of the month.
Thanks Acer! (PS, your website sucks. There is no excuse for having dozens of broken links scattered across your UNITED STATES ENGLISH-LANGUAGE PAGES!!! AND NOW YOU HAVE ME TYPING IN CAPITAL LETTERS I'M JUST GOING TO HAVE TO TAKE A DEEP BREATH AND THINK ABout something more relaxing.
So I called Acer's help line. After taking my information, the monitor's information, asking me what the serial number of my computer is (it's a Mac and does not have an Acer SI number, strangely enough), she finally got down to troubleshooting.
"Unplug the monitor and hold the power button for 30 seconds."
"From the computer or from the power?"
"Both."
Now I have no idea what effect you might get from holding down the power button on an unplugged monitor, but she's the Acer person not me. So I do. Unremarkably nothing happens.
She asks me what's wrong now. I explain that it's the same thing that was wrong before. Befuddled, she puts me on hold.
Next she tells me to plug the monitor back into the power and the computer (which we computer science majors refer to as "the actual way to use a monitor"). I do. Oddly enough, the problem persists. Her telling me to do so does not make it behave any differently from when I do it without her telling me to (tangent: that reminds me of a joke.)
Ok, she says, it appears to be a problem with the monitor. No kidding, huh. All I have to do is send it back to them (I'll pay for shipping of course). I ask where to send it to and she won't tell me. "I'll forward it to you" she says several times. I know this is crap because I never remember to forward emails to people unless they're physically sitting next to me asking for them. And there is no further way for me to get in contact with her once this conversation ends.
So sure enough, it's 10 hours later and I still have not received this mysterious email. So here's what I'm going to have to do tomorrow: pack the monitor up into its box, call Acer again and interrogate this undisclosed shipping location out of some lowly grunt, go to the post office, pay through the $crude_body_part to have it shipped, wait 2 to 4 to 26 weeks for Acer to fix it or send me another one. And it just occurs to me that I'm in the process of moving to a new apartment and I'm going to have to convince the Acer grunt I talk to tomorrow to change my shipping address to the new place because there's no way they're going to be sending my monitor back before the end of the month.
Thanks Acer! (PS, your website sucks. There is no excuse for having dozens of broken links scattered across your UNITED STATES ENGLISH-LANGUAGE PAGES!!! AND NOW YOU HAVE ME TYPING IN CAPITAL LETTERS I'M JUST GOING TO HAVE TO TAKE A DEEP BREATH AND THINK ABout something more relaxing.
Another Serious Post!?!?
I've been pretty hard on Barack Obama (I argued at one point that he had literally done nothing clearly right in his first few months in office). But his plan for closing Guantanamo Bay seems reasonably well thought-out. For example the proposed categories of prisonser:
Those seem like sensible distinctions. There's something sort of commonsensically Thomistic about splitting hairs until you actually know what kind of hair you're dealing with.
-- Those who have violated American criminal laws and will be tried in federal courts;
-- Those who violated the laws of war and are best tried through military commissions;
-- Those who have been ordered released by the courts;
-- Those who can be transferred safely to another country;
-- Those who cannot be prosecuted, but pose a clear danger to the American people.
(Source)
Those seem like sensible distinctions. There's something sort of commonsensically Thomistic about splitting hairs until you actually know what kind of hair you're dealing with.
Interesting Street Preacher Encounter
I was walking up the steps of the library when a kid who looked maybe 20 said "Excuse me, sir," [Ed: Sir???] "do you have a minute?"
Me: Ok...
Kid: Do you know Jesus Christ is your Lord and Savior?
Me: Yes.
Kid: Cool. Don't ever lose Him. Have a nice day.
Me: You too.
That kid was cool. I've rarely run into street evangelists who seemed to care about me and what I have to say. Generally when I tell them I'm a Christian, they look for some theological minutia that they can use to claim I'm going to hell (something about saying I eat Jesus' body really seems to make them edgy). I appreciate that he wasn't looking to argue or confront me or be proven right. He just wanted to make sure, if I didn't already know, that Jesus loves me. Thanks, kid!
Me: Ok...
Kid: Do you know Jesus Christ is your Lord and Savior?
Me: Yes.
Kid: Cool. Don't ever lose Him. Have a nice day.
Me: You too.
That kid was cool. I've rarely run into street evangelists who seemed to care about me and what I have to say. Generally when I tell them I'm a Christian, they look for some theological minutia that they can use to claim I'm going to hell (something about saying I eat Jesus' body really seems to make them edgy). I appreciate that he wasn't looking to argue or confront me or be proven right. He just wanted to make sure, if I didn't already know, that Jesus loves me. Thanks, kid!
Five Years of Crap!
My very first post on this blog was five years ago today! In that time, you've gotten lame-brained opinions and stupid booger jokes. And there were some posts that weren't as good either.
For those of you who laughed your way through the last 361 posts, I thank you. For those of you who have unwillingly slogged through them on the advice of your spiritual director, I also thank you. I'd appreciate if you pray for me too because I'm going to be sweating it out in Spa Purgatory (mostly for the offenses I've commited outside of this blog, believe it or not).
So, in conclusion, see you all in five years! I'll be an old man (Remind me then that I said so, so that I can realize how young and foolish I used to be).
For those of you who laughed your way through the last 361 posts, I thank you. For those of you who have unwillingly slogged through them on the advice of your spiritual director, I also thank you. I'd appreciate if you pray for me too because I'm going to be sweating it out in Spa Purgatory (mostly for the offenses I've commited outside of this blog, believe it or not).
So, in conclusion, see you all in five years! I'll be an old man (Remind me then that I said so, so that I can realize how young and foolish I used to be).
More From the Shrine
Everyone's favorite source for all things Catholic and weird is at it again. Strange Facts about Papal Audiences.
Stephen Colbert: Real American Hero
| The Colbert Report | Mon - Thurs 11:30pm / 10:30c | |||
| The Word - Stressed Position | ||||
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Liveblogging The Bachelor Party
That's right, I'm at a bachelor party. Don't worry, ladies, I'm not the one getting married. The party is for my cousin's fiancé.
First we went to a Cardinals game at Wrigley Field. The less said about that the better, really. Except that the economy is hitting scalpers really hard and they can only afford to pay you $7 for a ticket with face value of $36. It's a hard knock life for those guys who are selling bleacher seats for $75.
We stopped at our hotel after the game. It's a Days Inn, cost only $80 for the night, has just one less bed than people in the room and I didn't feel like I was going to get murdered in the night. A net win, I'd say.
From there we decided to go to dinner. The group wanted to go to Hooters. I wasn't all that sold on the idea but I swallowed my dignity got in the car. Fortunately I had cash so I wasn't going to have to have Hooters show up on my bank statement. (hooters hooters hooters: Google please take note. Thanks.)
On the way over, we passed a restaurant called Jedi's Garden. I pointed it out. A couple of blocks later we arrived at the Hooters (hooters hooters hooters). Which looked just as classy as I had expected. It appeared to be built of aluminum shed siding. Also it was packed. At least an hour wait. I suggested we try Jedi's. My cousin asked if it looked like it would be good. "It has to be good," I said "or else it would be called Sith Lord's." Did I mention I'm not the one getting married?
Anyway we ended up going to Jedi's. A preference for puns and geek references over gaudy tacky sex is what separates us from the animals, I say. Turned out to be a good choice. It was a little family owned place with an aura of "used-to-be-a-Perkins". It did not have any apparent Star Wars connection, except that our waitress might have been a Jedi. She was serving all seven tables in our section. She seemed nice so I asked her about the name. She made a motion that may have been the Vulcan salute but also kind of looked like the "blow my brains out" hand signal. I wasn't sure if I should tell her that she was confusing Star Wars with Star Trek or be concerned that she was going to kill me. I decided not to expose my nerdiness and said nothing at all.
Anyway it turns out Jedi is a Greek name, equivalent to Jerry. Oh well. The food was good. Now we're at the hotel watching Craig Ferguson's Comedy Central special. Not a bad day after all I guess.
Now I have to get to bed because my cousin is getting up early tomorrow to compete in the Chicago Strongman contest. Seriously.
First we went to a Cardinals game at Wrigley Field. The less said about that the better, really. Except that the economy is hitting scalpers really hard and they can only afford to pay you $7 for a ticket with face value of $36. It's a hard knock life for those guys who are selling bleacher seats for $75.
We stopped at our hotel after the game. It's a Days Inn, cost only $80 for the night, has just one less bed than people in the room and I didn't feel like I was going to get murdered in the night. A net win, I'd say.
From there we decided to go to dinner. The group wanted to go to Hooters. I wasn't all that sold on the idea but I swallowed my dignity got in the car. Fortunately I had cash so I wasn't going to have to have Hooters show up on my bank statement. (hooters hooters hooters: Google please take note. Thanks.)
On the way over, we passed a restaurant called Jedi's Garden. I pointed it out. A couple of blocks later we arrived at the Hooters (hooters hooters hooters). Which looked just as classy as I had expected. It appeared to be built of aluminum shed siding. Also it was packed. At least an hour wait. I suggested we try Jedi's. My cousin asked if it looked like it would be good. "It has to be good," I said "or else it would be called Sith Lord's." Did I mention I'm not the one getting married?
Anyway we ended up going to Jedi's. A preference for puns and geek references over gaudy tacky sex is what separates us from the animals, I say. Turned out to be a good choice. It was a little family owned place with an aura of "used-to-be-a-Perkins". It did not have any apparent Star Wars connection, except that our waitress might have been a Jedi. She was serving all seven tables in our section. She seemed nice so I asked her about the name. She made a motion that may have been the Vulcan salute but also kind of looked like the "blow my brains out" hand signal. I wasn't sure if I should tell her that she was confusing Star Wars with Star Trek or be concerned that she was going to kill me. I decided not to expose my nerdiness and said nothing at all.
Anyway it turns out Jedi is a Greek name, equivalent to Jerry. Oh well. The food was good. Now we're at the hotel watching Craig Ferguson's Comedy Central special. Not a bad day after all I guess.
Now I have to get to bed because my cousin is getting up early tomorrow to compete in the Chicago Strongman contest. Seriously.
Like Shooting Fish in Barrel
The website for Microsoft's Expression Web 2 tool ("passionate about standards", "beautiful inside and out") does not render correctly in Opera.
Talents Which Do Not Make Me Seem Cool
- Remembering dozens of passwords for different computer logins, websites and emails without writing any of them down.
- Good parallel parker.
- Can reset any clock-radio.
- Calculating addition of 2 or 3 digit numbers in my head almost instantaneously.
- Reasonably good Hootie and Blowfish imitation.
- Can classify everyday activities in terms of Big-O notation.
This post is unlikely to be followed up by "Talents Which Make Me Seem Totally Awesome."
It's An Honor Just to Be Nominated
That's what I'm probably supposed to say. But if I don't win this freakin caption contest, my head is going to explode from all the rage and whatnot.
Look how funny I am! Referencing a previous caption contest, even! Don't make the internet even dumber by voting for any of that other crap.
Look how funny I am! Referencing a previous caption contest, even! Don't make the internet even dumber by voting for any of that other crap.
Running in Under-Armour
I'm not sure it controlled my sweat or regulated my body temperature, but I felt like a superhero while I was wearing it. That's all I ask.
Who Wrote This Crap?*
Right now somebody is at RottenTomatoes.com is getting yelled at for not reviewing his code before checking it into production.
*Apologies to Jeff Atwood
*Apologies to Jeff Atwood
What the Heck Facebook (Part II)
Facebook's ads keep getting more and more disturbing:
I'm also on the middle of reading American Gods, so I'm seriously getting freaked out. If I don't post anything for a while, it could be because those creepy google guys show up at my front door with a buffalo man and a four-eyed baby. In which case, look out because the storm is coming.
Whatever that means...
Coincidentally, 34% of Americans approved of the job President Bush was doing as he left office. Could there be some connection between mutant babies and George W. Bush's administration?
Nope.
I'm also on the middle of reading American Gods, so I'm seriously getting freaked out. If I don't post anything for a while, it could be because those creepy google guys show up at my front door with a buffalo man and a four-eyed baby. In which case, look out because the storm is coming.
Whatever that means...
Coincidentally, 34% of Americans approved of the job President Bush was doing as he left office. Could there be some connection between mutant babies and George W. Bush's administration?
Nope.
What is Google Hiding?
Call me a loser, but I spend an inordinate amount of time looking at random things on Google Maps' street view. I decided to zoom in on the Googleplex to see what it looks like from the street.
Apparently, they tell their employees when the car is going by, because everyone is outside waving at the camera. Proving to me that Google employs the coolest nerds around, I found a guy dressed as Link, a wedding proposal (2.0, whatever that means) and a standup cutout of Marge Simpson. But at one point in the midst of the geeky frivolity, something sinister happens.
Shot one: Googlers standing around waving.
View Larger Map
One step further down the road: the crowds are gone, replaced by two men with blurred out faces.
View Larger Map
A further step: the crowds are back, with no sign of the mysterious men.
View Larger Map
Who are these guys? Why are their faces censored? No one else in street view gets their faces blured out. Why aren't we allowed to know who these two are?
I have some theories:
1) They're government agents investigating a UFO that was captured in the original footage. They flashed the camera with their red light thingy and it erased part of the camera's memory. Will Smith was too busy making serious movies to show up, so they hired Beau Bridges to stand in for him. Also, it was casual Friday at Men In Black headquarters.
2) Google is participating in a viral marketing campaign for The Ring. Their VP of advertising will be fired next week.
3) Mitch Hedberg was right about Bigfoot.
Whatever the truth may be, Google owes it to us to come clean. Fortunately they aren't the only search engine option. I went to Yahoo and found out that [Confidential Content Redacted Per Google End User Policy].
Apparently, they tell their employees when the car is going by, because everyone is outside waving at the camera. Proving to me that Google employs the coolest nerds around, I found a guy dressed as Link, a wedding proposal (2.0, whatever that means) and a standup cutout of Marge Simpson. But at one point in the midst of the geeky frivolity, something sinister happens.
Shot one: Googlers standing around waving.
View Larger Map
One step further down the road: the crowds are gone, replaced by two men with blurred out faces.
View Larger Map
A further step: the crowds are back, with no sign of the mysterious men.
View Larger Map
Who are these guys? Why are their faces censored? No one else in street view gets their faces blured out. Why aren't we allowed to know who these two are?
I have some theories:
1) They're government agents investigating a UFO that was captured in the original footage. They flashed the camera with their red light thingy and it erased part of the camera's memory. Will Smith was too busy making serious movies to show up, so they hired Beau Bridges to stand in for him. Also, it was casual Friday at Men In Black headquarters.
2) Google is participating in a viral marketing campaign for The Ring. Their VP of advertising will be fired next week.
3) Mitch Hedberg was right about Bigfoot.
Whatever the truth may be, Google owes it to us to come clean. Fortunately they aren't the only search engine option. I went to Yahoo and found out that [Confidential Content Redacted Per Google End User Policy].
I Don't Understand Utah
Half the time they're trying to convince everyone that they aren't a state full of crazy people.
The rest of the time, they're busy putting giant phallic symbols on their quarters.
The rest of the time, they're busy putting giant phallic symbols on their quarters.
Because Everyone Should Have an Opinion about Everything
I almost find Michael Phelps' accomplishments more impressive, seeing as he's been using performance de-enhancing drugs.
For Those Times When Aggression is Inappropriate, Try Passive Aggression
To: Guy Who Opened My Washer
CC: Guy Who Designed the Washer, INTERNET-ALL-PDL
Re: Opening My Washer
When I left the laundromat briefly today to get a burrito, I expected during that time that my laundry would continue washing. I was disappointed to note that this did not occur.
The reason this did not occur was that you, GWOMW, opened my washer. As you may know from previous washer-using experience (I am assuming that, as a guy in a laundromat, you have some of that), this causes the washer to stop. Once the washer has stopped, it does not continue to wash my laundry. Instead my towels sit there, damp, soapy and forlorn, waiting patiently to be restarted. They are, however, lacking hands and unable to restart themselves. This is where you would come in. There is a button near the top of the machine which causes the washer to start up again and complete its cycle.
I realize this may be an easy mistake to make, so I have formulated a solution. At the top of the washer (next to the button which causes the washer to start--you should be intimately familiar with that button by this point), is a small display with numbers on it. Those numbers represent the number of minutes remaining in my wash cycle. If those numbers display a value greater than zero (0), this indicates that my laundy is still washing. Judicious use of this display can help prevent these types of problems in the future. I appreciate your cooperation.
GWDtW, you're not off the hook either. That place on the aforementioned display screen which says "Washer Door Locked" is clearly in error. Please see to this.
Thanks,
Guy with Still-Damp Towels
PS: Guy Who Accidentally Paid For My Dryer, I hope you're not also GWOMW because you seemed cool.
CC: Guy Who Designed the Washer, INTERNET-ALL-PDL
Re: Opening My Washer
When I left the laundromat briefly today to get a burrito, I expected during that time that my laundry would continue washing. I was disappointed to note that this did not occur.
The reason this did not occur was that you, GWOMW, opened my washer. As you may know from previous washer-using experience (I am assuming that, as a guy in a laundromat, you have some of that), this causes the washer to stop. Once the washer has stopped, it does not continue to wash my laundry. Instead my towels sit there, damp, soapy and forlorn, waiting patiently to be restarted. They are, however, lacking hands and unable to restart themselves. This is where you would come in. There is a button near the top of the machine which causes the washer to start up again and complete its cycle.
I realize this may be an easy mistake to make, so I have formulated a solution. At the top of the washer (next to the button which causes the washer to start--you should be intimately familiar with that button by this point), is a small display with numbers on it. Those numbers represent the number of minutes remaining in my wash cycle. If those numbers display a value greater than zero (0), this indicates that my laundy is still washing. Judicious use of this display can help prevent these types of problems in the future. I appreciate your cooperation.
GWDtW, you're not off the hook either. That place on the aforementioned display screen which says "Washer Door Locked" is clearly in error. Please see to this.
Thanks,
Guy with Still-Damp Towels
PS: Guy Who Accidentally Paid For My Dryer, I hope you're not also GWOMW because you seemed cool.
Just a Reminder
Today, the Shrine of the Holy Whapping linked to LOLsaints and mentioned how weird it is. I'd like you all to remember that the Shrine is really the most Catholic and Weird site on the internet.
Who Actually Likes Oil Companies?
An online acquaintance posted a link to an article congratulating Exxon Mobil for their record profits. This looks like a mutated strain of Stockholm Syndrome to me.
I also work for a company that is on good financial ground in spite of the economy (I won't specify, since I'm sure they don't want their name connected to monkey nose-picking and sexy Rod Blagojevich). So why am I angry about the oil companies and not at my own company?
To me it's a matter of what we offer. My company is one of a number of companies that offers products to help people stay financially stable during tough times. Their focus on making the customer, rather than the bottom line, the top priority has made their product consistently the best in the industry. Rather than jumping on get-rich-quick fads, they invest conservatively to ensure that they have dependable cash flow even when the economy is bad.
Oil companies, on the other hand...looking for a metaphor....have us by the crankshaft and keep twisting. Their artificially inflated $4.50/gallon gas prices are part of what hurt our economy in the first place. In the short term, they're holding us hostage*. We have no other viable options but to go to them (or another one of their competitors, who is also charging the exact same price) in order to go about our daily lives. Hopefully in the future there will be other viable alternatives and we won't have to go crawling on our knees to the oil companies when we want heat our homes and drive to work.
And that's what gets me. The people trumpeting Exxon's big profits are the fiscally conservative free-market supporters. This is an example of an unfree market. We have virtually no choice but to buy. It's practically a tax. If you don't pay the government, they send someone to your home and arrest you (Edit: or in some cases, to hire you). The oil companies have an even better business model--if we don't pay them, they let us sit at home (for lack of a car), where we'll freeze for lack of payment on a heating bill we can't pay for lack of a job.
And we free-market supporters are supposed to congratulate this system? We're supposed to think it's great? This is a prime example of letting ideology tell you what's good, instead actually looking at the real, practical results in the world.
* In the long term, someone is bound to find a decent alternative energy source. And we'll run out of oil eventually.
I also work for a company that is on good financial ground in spite of the economy (I won't specify, since I'm sure they don't want their name connected to monkey nose-picking and sexy Rod Blagojevich). So why am I angry about the oil companies and not at my own company?
To me it's a matter of what we offer. My company is one of a number of companies that offers products to help people stay financially stable during tough times. Their focus on making the customer, rather than the bottom line, the top priority has made their product consistently the best in the industry. Rather than jumping on get-rich-quick fads, they invest conservatively to ensure that they have dependable cash flow even when the economy is bad.
Oil companies, on the other hand...looking for a metaphor....have us by the crankshaft and keep twisting. Their artificially inflated $4.50/gallon gas prices are part of what hurt our economy in the first place. In the short term, they're holding us hostage*. We have no other viable options but to go to them (or another one of their competitors, who is also charging the exact same price) in order to go about our daily lives. Hopefully in the future there will be other viable alternatives and we won't have to go crawling on our knees to the oil companies when we want heat our homes and drive to work.
And that's what gets me. The people trumpeting Exxon's big profits are the fiscally conservative free-market supporters. This is an example of an unfree market. We have virtually no choice but to buy. It's practically a tax. If you don't pay the government, they send someone to your home and arrest you (Edit: or in some cases, to hire you). The oil companies have an even better business model--if we don't pay them, they let us sit at home (for lack of a car), where we'll freeze for lack of payment on a heating bill we can't pay for lack of a job.
And we free-market supporters are supposed to congratulate this system? We're supposed to think it's great? This is a prime example of letting ideology tell you what's good, instead actually looking at the real, practical results in the world.
* In the long term, someone is bound to find a decent alternative energy source. And we'll run out of oil eventually.
Obligatory Breaking News Post
I'll just let the ex-governor and my Photoshopping skills speak for themselves:
[W]hether it's a court of law or administrative hearing or whether it's schoolyard justice when one kid hits another, but the kid that hit him wasn't the one who did it. He's got other boys he'd like to have tell the teachers he didn't do it.
I just feel bad for his future cellmate.
Priorities
I received a text message from America's favorite blogger, Tommy "not a religious books publisher" Nelson, while I was at work today. I quote "Blago is gone!"
Apparently by a unanimous vote, none the less. If I had known it would be this easy, I would have suggested it six years ago.
Anyway, that's not even my main point. My main point is I went to cnn.com when Google News didn't immediately bring up a story. This I what I was greeted with as the top story:
Sadly, I can't show you the full context. It would probably be considered inappropriate to take screen captures of Brazilian bikini models while using work computers. By the time I got home, she was no longer the top story.*
So, the Senate of an American state just voted to kick its governor out of office and CNN is leading with a story about a Brazilian model? Admittedly, she died and that's sad. But it's not headline news. It's not really news at all. And the fact that she had a series of amputations and eventually succumbed to sepsis from a urinary tract infection is not really my business. Let the poor woman rest in peace. Don't crash her funeral with your cameras, asking her family to cry on cue. You bastards make me sick.
Wow, that got out of hand. I was hoping to make a light-hearted post about CNN being stupid, but then my pent-up righteous anger got the best of me. I'll post pictures of monkeys picking their noses tomorrow.
*I'd like to point out that the Brazilian bikini model story was not bumped off the front page impeachment coverage. When I checked about an hour ago, the lead story was about a guy who faked his own death in 1989, leaving behind a fiancee and kids from a previous marriage in an apparent attempt to live out the plotline of an episode of My Name is Earl.
Apparently by a unanimous vote, none the less. If I had known it would be this easy, I would have suggested it six years ago.
Anyway, that's not even my main point. My main point is I went to cnn.com when Google News didn't immediately bring up a story. This I what I was greeted with as the top story:
Sadly, I can't show you the full context. It would probably be considered inappropriate to take screen captures of Brazilian bikini models while using work computers. By the time I got home, she was no longer the top story.*
So, the Senate of an American state just voted to kick its governor out of office and CNN is leading with a story about a Brazilian model? Admittedly, she died and that's sad. But it's not headline news. It's not really news at all. And the fact that she had a series of amputations and eventually succumbed to sepsis from a urinary tract infection is not really my business. Let the poor woman rest in peace. Don't crash her funeral with your cameras, asking her family to cry on cue. You bastards make me sick.
Wow, that got out of hand. I was hoping to make a light-hearted post about CNN being stupid, but then my pent-up righteous anger got the best of me. I'll post pictures of monkeys picking their noses tomorrow.
*I'd like to point out that the Brazilian bikini model story was not bumped off the front page impeachment coverage. When I checked about an hour ago, the lead story was about a guy who faked his own death in 1989, leaving behind a fiancee and kids from a previous marriage in an apparent attempt to live out the plotline of an episode of My Name is Earl.
The Best Excuse Ever
I wish I had had someone to avoid today, because I had a great excuse. I was actually helping a handicapped old woman carry boxes of food to the poor.
chmod 007 *
I've gotten tired of deleting directories with Subversion data in them, only to get a million "Are you sure?" messages. So I added an alias "ex-pred" to my .bash_profile. Remove those directories with extreme prejudice!
alias ex-pred='rm -rf'The High Today Was -2
It's really bloody cold. It's cold in my room, which has two outside facing walls. It's cold in my apartment, which (ultimately) has four outside-facing walls. It's cold outside, where there are no walls at all and the only thing keeping the heat is in the clouds, I think, although I've never been terribly good at meteorology.
It's so cold that I'm sitting under a blanket, blogging and drinking whiskey. It's so cold that I got brainfreeze at lunch...eathing chicken noodle soup*. It's so cold it makes me cuss inside my head and when I open my mouth it comes out. It's so cold that, it totally makes sense why Vikings thought Hell was like this. It's so cold that I saw a moose asking Sarah Palin to put it out of its misery (I imagine Dave Letterman will use that line tonight). It's so cold that people from Texas are continuing to complain about how cold it is, just like they have ever since the temperature first dropped below 50 in October.
Stay warm out there folks! Drive safe and don't forget to tip your waitresses!
*It's so cold that I thought that was pretty funny line when I came up with it.
It's so cold that I'm sitting under a blanket, blogging and drinking whiskey. It's so cold that I got brainfreeze at lunch...eathing chicken noodle soup*. It's so cold it makes me cuss inside my head and when I open my mouth it comes out. It's so cold that, it totally makes sense why Vikings thought Hell was like this. It's so cold that I saw a moose asking Sarah Palin to put it out of its misery (I imagine Dave Letterman will use that line tonight). It's so cold that people from Texas are continuing to complain about how cold it is, just like they have ever since the temperature first dropped below 50 in October.
Stay warm out there folks! Drive safe and don't forget to tip your waitresses!
*It's so cold that I thought that was pretty funny line when I came up with it.
Thank You, Chris Cassel, Whoever You Are
I was having a heck of a time getting CakePHP to work right in a subdirectory of my webserver. By nature, Cake wants your whole webserver to itself. Fortunately, this Chris guy figured out a way to get it cooperate with my other webpages.
Thanks, Mr. Chris guy!
Thanks, Mr. Chris guy!
The Moon Landing Was Fake
I made an observation the other day. One of reasons the internet is so difficult a medium to have meaningful conversations is that it's nearly impossible to tell who's a genuine idiot and who's being ironic. When I expressed this to one of my friends, he suggested that there might not be any difference. As the author of a fairly ironic blog, this provides an answer but little consolation.
Quote of the Day!
While kissing is normally very safe, doctors urge people to proceed with caution, the China Daily reported.- Brisbane Times
My Least Masculine Online Day Ever
Earlier today, my sister sent me a "Who's your Twilight dream guy?" facebook application. A few hours later a friend sent me a facebook gift of bubble bath, along with a message about whipped cream. Then my previous blog post had me scouring the internet cursing the fact that there are so few pictures Dennis Rodman's risque book cover.
If you need me, I'll be lifting weights and listening to Eye of the Tiger.
If you need me, I'll be lifting weights and listening to Eye of the Tiger.
I Find This Progression Disturbing
A chronological listing of Anne Coulter's book covers:
On the cover of her next book Mad as I'm Gonna Be, there will be nothing but a motorcycle and strategically placed copy of Reflections on the Revolution in France to shield our eyes*.
*Too obscure?
On the cover of her next book Mad as I'm Gonna Be, there will be nothing but a motorcycle and strategically placed copy of Reflections on the Revolution in France to shield our eyes*.
*Too obscure?
Church of the Holy Whapping
Where you learn something Catholic and weird every day!
It seems some native parents were acting as godparents to their own children. Since being co-godparents was a canonical impediment to the marriage of the parents--it created a 'spiritual relationship' or kinship--some were using this as an excuse to divorce [sic] their wives and remarry.
Overheard on the Street
Girl on cellphone: "The guy said 'What are you going to do, start a gunfight from your wheelchair?'"
What I Really Mean When I Say I Don't Believe in Money
Earlier today, I said I don't believe in money. Mostly, I did it just to watch my financially educated friends get that little throbby vein on the sides of their necks. "Not believing in money" was hyperbole, but I also had a point (or rather a theory of how our view of money is messed up).
To put it briefly, in the context of the recent economic events: If you lost money and no one else actually gained it, you never had that money in the first place.
I will explain further in a later post.
To put it briefly, in the context of the recent economic events: If you lost money and no one else actually gained it, you never had that money in the first place.
I will explain further in a later post.
I'm Going To Have to Disinfect The Furniture
Two of the most recent google searches that brought viewers to my blog were "completely incapable of pleasing a woman?" and "feels so right it can't be wrong".
You people frighten me.
EDIT: Further investigation shows that "completely incapable of pleasing a woman?" came from Windsor, England. It's nice to know that Prince Charles reads my blog.
You people frighten me.
EDIT: Further investigation shows that "completely incapable of pleasing a woman?" came from Windsor, England. It's nice to know that Prince Charles reads my blog.
Misery Loves Company
The host of a show I was watching today tried to keep my from turning off the TV at a commercial break. He said "I'm not going anywhere and I hope you aren't either."
I don't find that inviting. Actually it's kind of insulting to have a B-list celebrity say "I'm going absolutely nowhere and hopefully you're stuck in a dead-end existence too!" Listen, buddy, I'm not not going anywhere nearly as quickly as you are.
I don't find that inviting. Actually it's kind of insulting to have a B-list celebrity say "I'm going absolutely nowhere and hopefully you're stuck in a dead-end existence too!" Listen, buddy, I'm not not going anywhere nearly as quickly as you are.
Reason to be Catholic #9515464
I saw a version of this diagram on the ceiling of a church I went to this weekend. I'm not sure what it's actually called, but I like to think of it a Trinity For Dummies.
Could God Microwave a Burrito So Hot Even He Couldn't Eat It?
And could Samuel L. Jackson pick out an outfit so wussy even he couldn't look badass in it?
Well, Crap
"My attitude toward progress has passed from antagonism to boredom. I have long ceased to argue with people who prefer Thursday to Wednesday because it is Thursday." - GK ChestertonI guess this will be a good chance for conservatives to go sit in the corner and think about what they've done.
Meanwhile, Christians are going to have to actually go out and do stuff. If you want the pro-life cause to move forward, you have to go work for it. Don't expect the government to just pass laws for you. Then when we've decided what we really belive in we're going to have to actually vote for him in the primaries, rather than let the news channels tell us who's electable and who's not.
Donating Blood*
I'm a hero. I saved two lives today. Did Superman save two lives today? No. Superman doesn't even exist. And if he did exist he would be a deadbeat dad. Are you saying that deadbeat dads are heroes? I don't think so, you sicko. Superman is actually way less of a hero than I am.
The best thing about this kind of heroism is that it causes low blood sugar and drowsiness. I used that as an excuse to nap at my desk all afternoon. Hey, I saved two lives today. Wake me up with you accomplish something.
*I almost typed "donuting" blood, which is not too far off.
The best thing about this kind of heroism is that it causes low blood sugar and drowsiness. I used that as an excuse to nap at my desk all afternoon. Hey, I saved two lives today. Wake me up with you accomplish something.
*I almost typed "donuting" blood, which is not too far off.
Cross Cultural Dialog
Walking to lunch at work last week, I had a strange conversation with a couple of the Indian contractors I work with. I suspect something was lost in translation.
R: Are you married, Aaron?
Me: No.
A: Does he look married?*
R: No, he looks happy.
* Translation: Doesn't he look like a high school student who painted that goatee on with his mom's eybrow pencil?
R: Are you married, Aaron?
Me: No.
A: Does he look married?*
R: No, he looks happy.
* Translation: Doesn't he look like a high school student who painted that goatee on with his mom's eybrow pencil?
For Those Who May Be Interested
I just installed Subversion on my computer this weekend. It's really nice to have a versioning system that doesn't consist of me adding "-old" to the end of filenames and hoping to remember which version it is.
I kept running into a problem with importing projects, though. In some documents, the syntax seems to be backwards. The correct syntax is:
So if any of you were wondering, that's how it goes. Hope that helps.
I kept running into a problem with importing projects, though. In some documents, the syntax seems to be backwards. The correct syntax is:
svn import /Location/to/source/ \
file:///Location/to/repository -m "Initial Import"So if any of you were wondering, that's how it goes. Hope that helps.
Geocide Update
The exact details are unclear, but apparently the earth has been destroyed. My status icon has changed from "not destroyed" to "destroyed." Details will appear at the Earth Destruction Advisory Board as they become available.
The Powerless Have One Choice Other Than Despair
I saw part of the debate last night. I turned it off to watch The Office*. The more I think about the election the less happy I am about it. I feel completely powerless to know what the right decision is, even if my vote would make any difference anyway.
There's only one way for the powerless to do the most they can to change the world for good (also, there is only one way for the powerful to do the most they can to change the world for good and it's the same way). We're just going to have to pray this one out.
Our Lady Guadalupe is the patron saint of both North America and the pro-life cause. I'm going to pray a novena from October 26 to November 3. Join me. Jesus says wherever two or more are gathered, God is there. So that means me plus my entire readership may be just about enough.
*C'mon, you know "The Deposition" was the best episode of Season 4.
There's only one way for the powerless to do the most they can to change the world for good (also, there is only one way for the powerful to do the most they can to change the world for good and it's the same way). We're just going to have to pray this one out.
Our Lady Guadalupe is the patron saint of both North America and the pro-life cause. I'm going to pray a novena from October 26 to November 3. Join me. Jesus says wherever two or more are gathered, God is there. So that means me plus my entire readership may be just about enough.
*C'mon, you know "The Deposition" was the best episode of Season 4.
Unrelated Thoughts
I picked up The Onion today as I was walking out of a local beverage establishment. Having only moderately partaken of their products, I was not in a lessened state of awareness, but I was feeling somewhat warmer and happier than usual. One of the front page headlines initially appeared to be "Study Finds No Logical Reason Why Planets Fly." "Ha," I thought to my warm happy self. "That's a good question. What is keeping those planets flying around?"
Another look revealed that I had misread the healine. It was really "Study Finds No Logical Reason Why Planes Fly." Essentially, a shorter and less funny version of this post. The Onion was too embarassed of their blatant rip-offery to even post the story online, so I can't link to it. Let me just say, if you read my post you read everything worth reading in that story and a bit more. (They didn't even have the temerity to use the word "half-arsed," like I did. Also, they didn't have the pedantry to use the word "temerity." And they didn't have the impetuousity to use the word "pedantry." Etc.) That's the kind of service I strive to provide.
Also, is Jan gone yet?
Another look revealed that I had misread the healine. It was really "Study Finds No Logical Reason Why Planes Fly." Essentially, a shorter and less funny version of this post. The Onion was too embarassed of their blatant rip-offery to even post the story online, so I can't link to it. Let me just say, if you read my post you read everything worth reading in that story and a bit more. (They didn't even have the temerity to use the word "half-arsed," like I did. Also, they didn't have the pedantry to use the word "temerity." And they didn't have the impetuousity to use the word "pedantry." Etc.) That's the kind of service I strive to provide.
Also, is Jan gone yet?
The Future Ain't What It Used to Be
According to my (admittedly weak) understanding of the theory of relativity and time travel, you can only go forward in time. Therefore, any scientist who manages to time travel will only be able to go forward... to a time when time travel has already been invented.So rather than being crowned a hero for managing to travel through time, he's going to be just another one of those guys from the past who keep popping up. I imagine this is going to be rather disappointing.
Also, Get Off My Lawn
While asking the Google about when baseball games are being shown, I came across this article about how some playoff games are only being shown on cable. Which is totally bogus, say dozens of rambling, semi-literate USA Today readers.
My personal favorite:
My personal favorite:
I remember the good old days where all games were on network one at a time, never overlapping. It is really sad to think that the networks don't want any of the playoffs. I blame it on football and soccer. Kids these days find these action sports better than America's pastime. They can't appreciate how great the sport is because it lacks the constant action they need in these days of violent video games.
Q: When is the proper time to use the ternary operator?
A: Any time!
I found this in a Java program I was updating at work:
Which is obviously redundant in this case. Geez.
I found this in a Java program I was updating at work:
boolean boolExcluded = obj.getString()
.equalsIgnoreCase("yes") ? true : false;Which is obviously redundant in this case. Geez.
"Completely Incapable of Pleasing a Woman?"
That's a direct quote from the subject line of an email I got today. I tell myself to be strong, but it stings a little bit.
Watching the RNC
I know, liveblogging political events is not The Flametroll Way to Be©. I'll post something about monkeys soon, no doubt.
I caught the tail end of Giuliani's speech. I don't really like him very much, so I was drifting in and out. I did catch a phrase about McCain fighting for "freedom here and abroad." Giuliani didn't mention how lucky he has been to have enjoyed freedom here and three broads. He also paused awkwardly for cheers, leaving the audience wondering what to do for a couple of seconds before they realized that he was waiting on them.
Sarah Palin's speech was pretty good. The attacks seemed little forced, I thought. Maybe being harsh doesn't come naturally, I don't know. My main complaint was that she gave her kids ridiculous names: Track, Bristol, Willow, Piper and Trig.Three Four All of those are admissible in a game of Scrabble. (EDIT: Apparently "Bristol" is a "a smooth cardboard." "Trig" as an adjective means "neat" and as a verb means "to make trig." Enlightening.) I'm sure those kids are perfectly happy with their names--and it's no skin off my nose if they are. But seriously, those are not real names.
*The Scrabble rule of names (which occurred to me just now) states that any non-nickname (ie, Bob, Sue, Rich) which is longer than three letters long and is admissible in a game of Scrabble is not a suitable name for a child. I'm talking to you, people who name your kids Hunter, Rivers, Apple and Tanner.
Addendum 1: Theological Virtues and Gifts or Fruits of the Holy Spirit are grudgingly accepted. Hope and Faith, we'll let you two slide. But only if the parents have had so many kids that they're out of real names.
Addendum 2: Last names of all former American Presidents are off-limits. That means no Madisons, no Lincolns, no Taylors. Sorry, the almanac is not a baby names book.
I caught the tail end of Giuliani's speech. I don't really like him very much, so I was drifting in and out. I did catch a phrase about McCain fighting for "freedom here and abroad." Giuliani didn't mention how lucky he has been to have enjoyed freedom here and three broads. He also paused awkwardly for cheers, leaving the audience wondering what to do for a couple of seconds before they realized that he was waiting on them.
Sarah Palin's speech was pretty good. The attacks seemed little forced, I thought. Maybe being harsh doesn't come naturally, I don't know. My main complaint was that she gave her kids ridiculous names: Track, Bristol, Willow, Piper and Trig.
*The Scrabble rule of names (which occurred to me just now) states that any non-nickname (ie, Bob, Sue, Rich) which is longer than three letters long and is admissible in a game of Scrabble is not a suitable name for a child. I'm talking to you, people who name your kids Hunter, Rivers, Apple and Tanner.
Addendum 1: Theological Virtues and Gifts or Fruits of the Holy Spirit are grudgingly accepted. Hope and Faith, we'll let you two slide. But only if the parents have had so many kids that they're out of real names.
Addendum 2: Last names of all former American Presidents are off-limits. That means no Madisons, no Lincolns, no Taylors. Sorry, the almanac is not a baby names book.
Some Thoughts I Had As I Was Running
The Harley-Davidson 105th Anniversary celebration is in town, and I must say it's kind of intimidating. You know the experience: you're running down Wisconsin Ave like a little dork (you have that feeling too, right?) when a burly biker pulls up next to you, clad in leather and sporting impressive facial hair. Then you see her husband and you get really nervous.
Seriously, though, every biker I've encountered has been really cool. Case in point: in the middle of a stream of Harley riders, there was one guy in a preppy pastel polo and khaki shorts, wearing salmon colored sunglasses. Riding a Yamaha. Yet none of the bikers did what I wanted to do: rough him up and take his lunch money.
There's a building on Prospect Ave with a sign that says "Body Awareness." I'm not sure what that means. I keep expecting someone to pop out as I run by and yell "You have a body!" I imagine the response they're looking for is "Holy crap, I do!"
Seriously, though, every biker I've encountered has been really cool. Case in point: in the middle of a stream of Harley riders, there was one guy in a preppy pastel polo and khaki shorts, wearing salmon colored sunglasses. Riding a Yamaha. Yet none of the bikers did what I wanted to do: rough him up and take his lunch money.
There's a building on Prospect Ave with a sign that says "Body Awareness." I'm not sure what that means. I keep expecting someone to pop out as I run by and yell "You have a body!" I imagine the response they're looking for is "Holy crap, I do!"
Why I Hate Flying
Ok, so hate is a strong word. Maybe more like "Why I Never Feel Very Comfortable Flying."
It's not the food. I'll eat pretty much anything. It's not the lack of space or the fact that sudden pressure changes wreak havoc on my eardrum that's mainly made of neck tissue (That's a long story, on a related note I'm traumatized by monkeys with cymbals and anything artificially banana flavored. But I digress.)
No, the real reason I don't like flying is much more pragmatic. I don't actually believe that it works. Sure, I learned about Bernoulli and all that in high school. I've seen experiments involving paper airplanes or ping pong balls. But there's the difference. A sheet of paper or a tiny, thin piece of hollow plastic does not compare the 20-ton behemoths we supposedly get up into the sky every day.
A 747 is nothing more than a heavy piece of metal with a couple of ridiculous wings attached. That pretty much sounds like a 50's Cadillac to me. And pound for pound, I'd say Elvis's car has a better chance of getting off the ground than one of those things.
And that's just the plane itself. Then you add a couple hundred people--and I mean good, solid Americans--whose average weight is certainly much closer to "Elvis" than "ping pong ball."
No, I don't believe there is a natural force on earth that could get that much steel and flesh up to 500 mph at an altitude of 6 miles (except maybe Arnold Schwarenegger colliding with Vin Diesel at near light-speeds. And we know that's impossible because they would burn up from the friction before they could reach each other.*)
I believe what's really happening here is pure voodoo magic. Some airline employee snaps the neck of a chicken right before takeoff. The airlines certainly aren't spending the money to sacrifice a goat for every flight. To fund that, they'd have to start charging passengers $10 for a bag of pretzels or $8 for no bag of pretzels. And now that I've written that down on the internet, some airline is going to start doing that anyway.
Anyway, since I don't believe in air travel I never worry about whether the mechanics did their job. I only worry that the medicine man (who probably works for the TSA) is doing the same half-arsed job all the other airline employees are doing. What if he's drunkenly performing the rituals wrong? Or only sacrificing one chicken for every two flights?
So instead I pray to the Catholic God (you know, the real one. That there's three of, but only one of) and figure He'll sort things out. It will be nice to get to heaven before Elvis--who's still out there somewhere, probably impersonating Paul McCartney.
* Obligatory pun: Diesel spontaneously combusts at 410 degrees Fahrenheit.
It's not the food. I'll eat pretty much anything. It's not the lack of space or the fact that sudden pressure changes wreak havoc on my eardrum that's mainly made of neck tissue (That's a long story, on a related note I'm traumatized by monkeys with cymbals and anything artificially banana flavored. But I digress.)
No, the real reason I don't like flying is much more pragmatic. I don't actually believe that it works. Sure, I learned about Bernoulli and all that in high school. I've seen experiments involving paper airplanes or ping pong balls. But there's the difference. A sheet of paper or a tiny, thin piece of hollow plastic does not compare the 20-ton behemoths we supposedly get up into the sky every day.
A 747 is nothing more than a heavy piece of metal with a couple of ridiculous wings attached. That pretty much sounds like a 50's Cadillac to me. And pound for pound, I'd say Elvis's car has a better chance of getting off the ground than one of those things.
And that's just the plane itself. Then you add a couple hundred people--and I mean good, solid Americans--whose average weight is certainly much closer to "Elvis" than "ping pong ball."
No, I don't believe there is a natural force on earth that could get that much steel and flesh up to 500 mph at an altitude of 6 miles (except maybe Arnold Schwarenegger colliding with Vin Diesel at near light-speeds. And we know that's impossible because they would burn up from the friction before they could reach each other.*)
I believe what's really happening here is pure voodoo magic. Some airline employee snaps the neck of a chicken right before takeoff. The airlines certainly aren't spending the money to sacrifice a goat for every flight. To fund that, they'd have to start charging passengers $10 for a bag of pretzels or $8 for no bag of pretzels. And now that I've written that down on the internet, some airline is going to start doing that anyway.
Anyway, since I don't believe in air travel I never worry about whether the mechanics did their job. I only worry that the medicine man (who probably works for the TSA) is doing the same half-arsed job all the other airline employees are doing. What if he's drunkenly performing the rituals wrong? Or only sacrificing one chicken for every two flights?
So instead I pray to the Catholic God (you know, the real one. That there's three of, but only one of) and figure He'll sort things out. It will be nice to get to heaven before Elvis--who's still out there somewhere, probably impersonating Paul McCartney.
* Obligatory pun: Diesel spontaneously combusts at 410 degrees Fahrenheit.
Feeding the Trolls
I love the internet. There's nowhere else on earth that a conversation about a neutral topic like Javascript can get so personal so fast.
Observe.
Observe.
People Get Grants for This?
A new study shows that non-smokers who are married to smokers have a higher risk of stroke.
Allow me to paraphrase: All things being equal, people who spend more time inhaling cigarette smoke have more health issues than those who don't.
Some studies created the technology that cured polio and sent humans to the moon. Other studies brought us the technology that puts new improved nose hair trimmers in SkyMall catalogs.
Allow me to paraphrase: All things being equal, people who spend more time inhaling cigarette smoke have more health issues than those who don't.
Some studies created the technology that cured polio and sent humans to the moon. Other studies brought us the technology that puts new improved nose hair trimmers in SkyMall catalogs.
Things That Are Beautiful About Milwaukee
Part 1 of a continuing series:
Milwaukee wind is notorious for managing to always blow in your face, no matter which direction you're facing. The maze of downtown buildings wraps it around and brings it back at you at just that moment when you thought you had escaped it.
That is not necessarily desirable in the winter. But for a few months a year, Milwaukee manages not to be winter. The climate takes a deep breath and gathers its energy like a lazy man getting out of a recliner. Eventually he heaves himself up and temperatures nudge their way into the upper 80's or 90's. He staggers to the fridge for a beer and soon enough it's winter again, but for those couple of months, the wind is wonderful.
The wind
Milwaukee wind is notorious for managing to always blow in your face, no matter which direction you're facing. The maze of downtown buildings wraps it around and brings it back at you at just that moment when you thought you had escaped it.
That is not necessarily desirable in the winter. But for a few months a year, Milwaukee manages not to be winter. The climate takes a deep breath and gathers its energy like a lazy man getting out of a recliner. Eventually he heaves himself up and temperatures nudge their way into the upper 80's or 90's. He staggers to the fridge for a beer and soon enough it's winter again, but for those couple of months, the wind is wonderful.
More Mike News!
I just finished putting the Mike Mangione lyrics site live. It doesn't have all of the lyrics to every song yet, but I'm working on it. Every bit of help...well, helps. So if you know the lyrics to a song, visit the site and send me a message over there.
Mike even linked to it from his site, which makes me feel pretty good inside.
MikeMangioneLyrics.com
Mike even linked to it from his site, which makes me feel pretty good inside.
MikeMangioneLyrics.com
UPD4TE!!!!1!!
A spam email warns me "SOMEONE YOU CALL YOUR FRIEND WANTS YOU DEAD."
This is pretty depressing. It's one thing to have spam constantly insinuating that your manhood isn't up to standard, but I've never seen one that foretells your imminent death. I'm not sure I like the direction the internet is going anymore.
This is pretty depressing. It's one thing to have spam constantly insinuating that your manhood isn't up to standard, but I've never seen one that foretells your imminent death. I'm not sure I like the direction the internet is going anymore.
What the Heck, Facebook?
Facebook's ads must be automatically generated based on my profile information. There's no way a human could make something as tacky as some of those ads are.
Observe:
Observe:
I Can Has Website
And I does! www.aaronmorey.org.
Sorry, I've never reference LOLcats before (and for good reason, they're as close as you can come to being below the intelligence level of this blog) but it's late and I'm not practicing good judgment.
Sorry, I've never reference LOLcats before (and for good reason, they're as close as you can come to being below the intelligence level of this blog) but it's late and I'm not practicing good judgment.
Things You Learn
Wearing your work ID badge into the confessional for face-to-face confession kills that last little glimmer of anonymity.
The Election Better Go My Way
It's a long tradition among actors to make threats if elections don't go the way they want them to. Since having good bone structure and being a good pretender is enough to make these people political experts, I don't think being homely and ignorant should keep me from expressing my opinions.
Let me just say it here: if Obama is elected, I will move to Milwaukee, Wisconsin. You heard me. I actually intend to go through with this, unlike any actor so far. I won't be escaping to the land of bidets and tiny cars, but I will still have things to look forward to.
Top Ten Ways to Know You're In Wisconsin
10) You are having someone read this list to you because your eyelashes are frozen together.
9) You are reading this list yourself thanks to your excellent MPS education.
8) John Madden is still saying the name of your town.
7) One good night at the plate in your softball league and Alderman McGee keeps calling your house.
6) You know that "the giant bronze Winkler" isn't anything dirty.
5) Someone in the room cares that the Brewers just dipped below .500.
4) You got teary eyed from reading the number of this item.
3) You are pre-gaming for the Packer's opener already.
2) You're pretty pumped for Pirate Fest.
1) Guy who was supposed to write number 1 fell in a pothole and hasn't been seen in three days.
Let me just say it here: if Obama is elected, I will move to Milwaukee, Wisconsin. You heard me. I actually intend to go through with this, unlike any actor so far. I won't be escaping to the land of bidets and tiny cars, but I will still have things to look forward to.
Top Ten Ways to Know You're In Wisconsin
10) You are having someone read this list to you because your eyelashes are frozen together.
9) You are reading this list yourself thanks to your excellent MPS education.
8) John Madden is still saying the name of your town.
7) One good night at the plate in your softball league and Alderman McGee keeps calling your house.
6) You know that "the giant bronze Winkler" isn't anything dirty.
5) Someone in the room cares that the Brewers just dipped below .500.
4) You got teary eyed from reading the number of this item.
3) You are pre-gaming for the Packer's opener already.
2) You're pretty pumped for Pirate Fest.
1) Guy who was supposed to write number 1 fell in a pothole and hasn't been seen in three days.
Gas Still Cheaper Than High Life
But it's getting closer.The difference is that I don't go through 2/3 of a gallon of High Life every time I drive to my friends' houses across town. Things would be more interesting if I did, though...
Food for Thought
The bible is long and complicated, and you live a busy life. So let an accredited theologian (me) do the work for you.
Today's Passage in a Minute is Acts 10:9-22.
Summary
God shows Peter some non-kosher animals and say "Eat them." Peter says no. God says "eat them," and Peter says no. God says "Shut up listen to me. Eat them." Peter says ok. Some people come over and Peter has dinner with them.
Live it out!
Find a centurion and go out for Baconators. Be sure to get cheese so it will be as non-kosher as possible.
Reflection
Ponder your mortality as your cholesterol level rises to the heavens like "a burnt offering... an aroma pleasing to the Lord."
Today's Passage in a Minute is Acts 10:9-22.
Summary
God shows Peter some non-kosher animals and say "Eat them." Peter says no. God says "eat them," and Peter says no. God says "Shut up listen to me. Eat them." Peter says ok. Some people come over and Peter has dinner with them.
Live it out!
Find a centurion and go out for Baconators. Be sure to get cheese so it will be as non-kosher as possible.
Reflection
Ponder your mortality as your cholesterol level rises to the heavens like "a burnt offering... an aroma pleasing to the Lord."
