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T. Michael Barclay's "Asylum Earth" takes a slightly different look at people, places and events that shape the planet we are confined to. It's overwhelming evidence that the patients are indeed running the asylum.
Saturday, September 27, 2003
TELEMARKETERS ARE PEOPLE TOO -
Well, Even If They Aren’t . . .
I suppose because Saddam wimped out and nobody in the Middle East can read a map, the moons aligned and created a slow news day. Left to our own designs, we looked around for a just cause and decided to become obsessed with the next biggest threat to our very existence. Obviously with Aids under control, Sars cured and Cancer a thing of the past, the fickle finger of fate became squarely fixated on telephone solicitors and it became their time in the barrel. Or why else would we bring our government and court systems to virtual gridlock with a flurry of activity akin to mud wrestling?
Within the space of a few days we have seen court rulings, appeals, more rulings and a call for legislative action that is giving particism politics a bad name. They haven’t put telemarketer’s in the same class with pond scum, but even Jesse Jackson and the ACLU are staying out of this and they have been known to get into it right up to the top of their waders. It seems that outside the California 9th Circuit Court of jesters almost everyone is united in wanting to jump the bones of anything remotely associated with phone solicitation. I have a question that has seemed to escape more knowledgeable minds than mine . . . Are we attacking the wrong problem?
As I see it, the real culprit is not the telemarketer’s, it is the phonophobes on the other end! There is, apparently, a large segment of our population that is absolutely frightened to death of their telephones, or why else have a Zantac moment just because it rings? Where, somebody please show me, does it say, just because the phone rings, you, or anybody for that matter, has to answer the damn thing? Where? What exactly is the compulsion that turns a normally sane person into a bungling idiot, chocking and spitting chunks of food, trying to get from the dinner table to the phone? I’ve seen quite, petite, women hurt themselves trying to get to a phone before the second ring . . . and it isn’t even their house!
Just because some people cannot be helped, don’t waste my time and tax dollars trying to shoot the messenger. Has it dawned on anyone that this is the same group of people that will watch a TV ad at 2:00a and actually rush to be one of the first 100 callers to order the gizmo? How can you help people who are willing to give their credit card number to an inmate named “Vulture” working a phone-bank on Folsom’s third shift. These are the same people who totally miss the connection when a TV ad breaks into their program of choice and offers to sell them a doohickey, for three easy payments of $19.95, to block phone solicitors . . . What, pray tell me, is the difference between that and telemarketing, except if a phone solicitor calls you during the program, you have the choice of just not answering the phone!
I have no problem sitting right next to a ringing phone and not answering it. It’s my phone, my choice! Nothing I signed, when I bought it, required me to plug it in, much less answer it. If I’m eating a meal, I’m eating a meal, if I’m watching a TV program, I’m watching a TV program . . . that was my plan and I’m sticking to it. If it’s an emergency, call 911, it is fewer buttons to punch than my phone number and they are better equipped and qualified to handle your situation. Call me later and let me know the body count.
I’ve invested in extremely uncomplicated “low-tech” solutions for those of you that need to tell me something during my otherwise occupied time. I have an answering machine, if it is really important, leave a message! I’ll call you back and leave my message on your answering machine. Like E-mail, this cuts out all the time absorbing chit-chat and gets to the meat of the topic at hand. I’m not so in love with the sound of your voice that I cannot function if I don’t speak to you personally. I have “caller ID,” if it shows “unavailable,” guess what, so am I. If it shows an area-code or phone number I’m familiar with, I will make a conscious decision to answer or not . . . again, I’m in charge of my time and what I choose to do with it, thank you very much.
So, let’s ease up on the telemarketer’s, they are just trying to make a living. Let Vulture and his pals do their thing and earn a little cigarette money. If you cannot withstand the mere ringing of the phone, I suggest that you follow the source of the problem all the way to the wall and just unplug that sucker until you can get a grip. If that is not an option in your psyche than call me and just leave your number on my machine. When I’m not busy I’ll call you back and see if you’re interested in a low mileage Nash Rambler.
T. Michael Barclay
Well, Even If They Aren’t . . .
I suppose because Saddam wimped out and nobody in the Middle East can read a map, the moons aligned and created a slow news day. Left to our own designs, we looked around for a just cause and decided to become obsessed with the next biggest threat to our very existence. Obviously with Aids under control, Sars cured and Cancer a thing of the past, the fickle finger of fate became squarely fixated on telephone solicitors and it became their time in the barrel. Or why else would we bring our government and court systems to virtual gridlock with a flurry of activity akin to mud wrestling?
Within the space of a few days we have seen court rulings, appeals, more rulings and a call for legislative action that is giving particism politics a bad name. They haven’t put telemarketer’s in the same class with pond scum, but even Jesse Jackson and the ACLU are staying out of this and they have been known to get into it right up to the top of their waders. It seems that outside the California 9th Circuit Court of jesters almost everyone is united in wanting to jump the bones of anything remotely associated with phone solicitation. I have a question that has seemed to escape more knowledgeable minds than mine . . . Are we attacking the wrong problem?
As I see it, the real culprit is not the telemarketer’s, it is the phonophobes on the other end! There is, apparently, a large segment of our population that is absolutely frightened to death of their telephones, or why else have a Zantac moment just because it rings? Where, somebody please show me, does it say, just because the phone rings, you, or anybody for that matter, has to answer the damn thing? Where? What exactly is the compulsion that turns a normally sane person into a bungling idiot, chocking and spitting chunks of food, trying to get from the dinner table to the phone? I’ve seen quite, petite, women hurt themselves trying to get to a phone before the second ring . . . and it isn’t even their house!
Just because some people cannot be helped, don’t waste my time and tax dollars trying to shoot the messenger. Has it dawned on anyone that this is the same group of people that will watch a TV ad at 2:00a and actually rush to be one of the first 100 callers to order the gizmo? How can you help people who are willing to give their credit card number to an inmate named “Vulture” working a phone-bank on Folsom’s third shift. These are the same people who totally miss the connection when a TV ad breaks into their program of choice and offers to sell them a doohickey, for three easy payments of $19.95, to block phone solicitors . . . What, pray tell me, is the difference between that and telemarketing, except if a phone solicitor calls you during the program, you have the choice of just not answering the phone!
I have no problem sitting right next to a ringing phone and not answering it. It’s my phone, my choice! Nothing I signed, when I bought it, required me to plug it in, much less answer it. If I’m eating a meal, I’m eating a meal, if I’m watching a TV program, I’m watching a TV program . . . that was my plan and I’m sticking to it. If it’s an emergency, call 911, it is fewer buttons to punch than my phone number and they are better equipped and qualified to handle your situation. Call me later and let me know the body count.
I’ve invested in extremely uncomplicated “low-tech” solutions for those of you that need to tell me something during my otherwise occupied time. I have an answering machine, if it is really important, leave a message! I’ll call you back and leave my message on your answering machine. Like E-mail, this cuts out all the time absorbing chit-chat and gets to the meat of the topic at hand. I’m not so in love with the sound of your voice that I cannot function if I don’t speak to you personally. I have “caller ID,” if it shows “unavailable,” guess what, so am I. If it shows an area-code or phone number I’m familiar with, I will make a conscious decision to answer or not . . . again, I’m in charge of my time and what I choose to do with it, thank you very much.
So, let’s ease up on the telemarketer’s, they are just trying to make a living. Let Vulture and his pals do their thing and earn a little cigarette money. If you cannot withstand the mere ringing of the phone, I suggest that you follow the source of the problem all the way to the wall and just unplug that sucker until you can get a grip. If that is not an option in your psyche than call me and just leave your number on my machine. When I’m not busy I’ll call you back and see if you’re interested in a low mileage Nash Rambler.
T. Michael Barclay
Saturday, September 20, 2003
THE VXZ’S OF PHARMACEUTICAL NAMES -
And, Leave My Penis Out Of It . . .
Today alone I received E-mails telling me my penis was too small, my stomach too large and my hair too thin. Well, I checked and I’ve got news for them . . . my hair is just fine, thank you very much. And, as to their totally subjective view of my private parts, I’m fully aware of my weight and it is not the problem, I’m just six inches too short. Got a pill for that? I’m also aware that they only have one pill and all it does is make your stomach smaller, the rest is pure optical illusion.
You have to admit that they have some creative writers for some of these advertisements . . . “Thanks to the miracle of science, you can now increase the size of your shlang (I choose to use the Yiddish vernacular rather than defame some guy named Robert) by up to 40% without the risk associated with penile enhancement surgery, or the agony of weight and pulley systems . . .” Pulley systems? Doesn’t that sort of make the sex anticlimactic? Moving onward . . . “There is no harmful side effects, and you can expect to notice visible growth within 30 days” Hell, seeing my feet would be an improvement . . .
They continue . . .“Because women are reluctant to complain, often times men assume that everything is fine . . .” Reluctant to complain? Where exactly did you get the idea to invest hundreds of millions in this business? Are you kidding? Just to make sure you understand what is expected, on their top ten list of reasons they left their ex, the subject appears six times. Back in la-la land . . .“Because our pill is made from only the finest quality pharmaceutical grade ingredients, there are no harmful side effects.” Or . . . considering how low your self esteem must have sunk for you to buy these pills, a runny nose would probably push you over the edge . . .
This brings me to my next realization . . . without Pharmaceutical names there would be no need for “v,” “x’ and “z” in the alphabet! I can just see the look on Danny Webster’s face when he realized he had three letters and no words. “Ok, girls and boys, we were paid for 28 letters and I’m not giving three back. So get busy and come up with some words, quick!” Is there any other reason you can think of for names like; Skelaxin, Xenical, Zanaflex, Vioxx, Condylox, Didrex, Cyclobenzaprine, Flexeril, Vaniqa, Paxil, Lexapro, Zyban, Acyclovir, Prozac and Zyrtec, just to mention a few? Matter of fact, is there any conceivable reason at all for Cyclobenzaprine?
And, explain the logic of giving a pill a name that no one could possible pronounce and then spending millions of dollars telling everyone to call it, “The Purple Pill”! Why not just name it The Purple Pill in the first place and reduce the cost of the damn thing. Then to add even more confusion to the fact you cannot possibly pronounce the name of the miracle medication, there are the medicines that pore massive bucks into a campaign with commercials that never even tell you what the pill actually does, but strongly suggests that you ask your physician if it is “right” for you on your next visit. How stupid is that?. . . “Why, no, Mike, not unless your ovaries are the size of casaba melons!” “Well, thanks Doc, I just thought I would ask.”
Then, in order to give you the ultimate confidence to pop a handful and chase them with a beer, they slip in the small print (or announce it like auctioneer giving jury instructions), using a sleep inducing opener like; “This medicine may alter a number of unrelated processes at the same time.” Like, for instance; “lower blood pressure, cause blurred vision, dry mouth, constipation, produce sleepiness, facial edema, rash, herpes, simplex, nervousness, nausea, nasal irritation, hoarseness, wheezing, nasal pain, headache, sweating, itching, seizures or hallucinations.” Well, if I can get rid of that nasty cough . . .
So there you have it . . . an entire industry made up of medicines we cannot pronounce, that we have no clue if we should ask our doctor about, that the pharmaceutical company’s obviously give odd shapes and colors to so they can tell them apart, that we take for problems we didn’t know we had until they spent billions telling us we did, with side effects far worse than the disease you’re attempting to cure, and warnings that say you probably shouldn’t even take just in case you might be called out at 2:00a to drive a bulldozer.
So, just how silly does that clove of ‘garlic around the neck’ idea seem now. . . ?
T. Michael Barclay
And, Leave My Penis Out Of It . . .
Today alone I received E-mails telling me my penis was too small, my stomach too large and my hair too thin. Well, I checked and I’ve got news for them . . . my hair is just fine, thank you very much. And, as to their totally subjective view of my private parts, I’m fully aware of my weight and it is not the problem, I’m just six inches too short. Got a pill for that? I’m also aware that they only have one pill and all it does is make your stomach smaller, the rest is pure optical illusion.
You have to admit that they have some creative writers for some of these advertisements . . . “Thanks to the miracle of science, you can now increase the size of your shlang (I choose to use the Yiddish vernacular rather than defame some guy named Robert) by up to 40% without the risk associated with penile enhancement surgery, or the agony of weight and pulley systems . . .” Pulley systems? Doesn’t that sort of make the sex anticlimactic? Moving onward . . . “There is no harmful side effects, and you can expect to notice visible growth within 30 days” Hell, seeing my feet would be an improvement . . .
They continue . . .“Because women are reluctant to complain, often times men assume that everything is fine . . .” Reluctant to complain? Where exactly did you get the idea to invest hundreds of millions in this business? Are you kidding? Just to make sure you understand what is expected, on their top ten list of reasons they left their ex, the subject appears six times. Back in la-la land . . .“Because our pill is made from only the finest quality pharmaceutical grade ingredients, there are no harmful side effects.” Or . . . considering how low your self esteem must have sunk for you to buy these pills, a runny nose would probably push you over the edge . . .
This brings me to my next realization . . . without Pharmaceutical names there would be no need for “v,” “x’ and “z” in the alphabet! I can just see the look on Danny Webster’s face when he realized he had three letters and no words. “Ok, girls and boys, we were paid for 28 letters and I’m not giving three back. So get busy and come up with some words, quick!” Is there any other reason you can think of for names like; Skelaxin, Xenical, Zanaflex, Vioxx, Condylox, Didrex, Cyclobenzaprine, Flexeril, Vaniqa, Paxil, Lexapro, Zyban, Acyclovir, Prozac and Zyrtec, just to mention a few? Matter of fact, is there any conceivable reason at all for Cyclobenzaprine?
And, explain the logic of giving a pill a name that no one could possible pronounce and then spending millions of dollars telling everyone to call it, “The Purple Pill”! Why not just name it The Purple Pill in the first place and reduce the cost of the damn thing. Then to add even more confusion to the fact you cannot possibly pronounce the name of the miracle medication, there are the medicines that pore massive bucks into a campaign with commercials that never even tell you what the pill actually does, but strongly suggests that you ask your physician if it is “right” for you on your next visit. How stupid is that?. . . “Why, no, Mike, not unless your ovaries are the size of casaba melons!” “Well, thanks Doc, I just thought I would ask.”
Then, in order to give you the ultimate confidence to pop a handful and chase them with a beer, they slip in the small print (or announce it like auctioneer giving jury instructions), using a sleep inducing opener like; “This medicine may alter a number of unrelated processes at the same time.” Like, for instance; “lower blood pressure, cause blurred vision, dry mouth, constipation, produce sleepiness, facial edema, rash, herpes, simplex, nervousness, nausea, nasal irritation, hoarseness, wheezing, nasal pain, headache, sweating, itching, seizures or hallucinations.” Well, if I can get rid of that nasty cough . . .
So there you have it . . . an entire industry made up of medicines we cannot pronounce, that we have no clue if we should ask our doctor about, that the pharmaceutical company’s obviously give odd shapes and colors to so they can tell them apart, that we take for problems we didn’t know we had until they spent billions telling us we did, with side effects far worse than the disease you’re attempting to cure, and warnings that say you probably shouldn’t even take just in case you might be called out at 2:00a to drive a bulldozer.
So, just how silly does that clove of ‘garlic around the neck’ idea seem now. . . ?
T. Michael Barclay
Thursday, September 11, 2003
SURFING SUCKS –
Or, How to Hold Back if There is Something You Want to Say . . .
If you ever think that you want to know just how smart you are, let me save you some time, you don’t, and, you aren’t. If you still need proof, the sheer act of trying to find out will make “ignorance is bliss” seem like the 11th Commandment. The idea of taking a test and then living in some arbitrary numerical intelligence quadrant for the rest of your life is pure insanity in its rawest form. To start with, they never give you the test when you’re six years old and know everything, who are they trying to fool? No . . . they wait until you’ve gone to school for ten or twelve years and have had every original thought ripped right out of your gourd. For years I thought the number listed in my teachers Bio was their age . . . it’s their IQ! Just how are you supposed to learn anything from someone with an IQ of 23? Trust me, the book, “Everything I needed to know I learned in Kindergarten,” is no joke.
Who’s to know who made up these tests in the first place and exactly what their mental state was at the time. Who, I ask you, would write down random numbers or designs, figured out the exact difference between them and then write down more to see if anyone else could reach the same drug induced state and figure it out? What kind of society are we supposed to have with questions like; “Which one of these five is least like the other four”? Look around, it’s probably you! Of course there is a thin line between genius and insanity, a crazy person drew the line and hasn’t stopped laughing since.
Having said all that, there I was surfing among the rip tide in the Google Ocean when I was sucked right into a site called "Emode.com" (The original IQ test?). Well, I was there and it was there, so I decided to just go ahead and take their silly little test. Now, given that they are trying to sell something, this may (or may not) skew their results (they, of course, say it doesn't). A quick glance shows that all those geniuses are a lucky lot to boot. All the questions are multiple choice! So, using infant logic combined with my superior intellect, I immediately figured out that if you take the word “geniuses” and drop the “n,” the “i,’ and one of the “e’s,” you end up with “guses”. Now, breaking the Mensa code of secrecy, I, for the first time anywhere, reveal that by using the original “Latin” derivative and exchanging the “e” with the first “s,” you get the real secret behind these highly gifted IQ scores . . . They GUESS!
So, how could I fail? I’ve been guessing with the best of them my entire life and managed to hold a “C” average. And, if some fool hadn’t invented “Time Out,” I would have never had to sit in the corner for that attitude thing either. Let’s see what we have here: 1.) “HAND is to Glove as HEAD is to . . .” A. Hair. B. Neck. C. Earring. D. Hat . . . An obvious trick question as anyone who has taken a Jr. High “health” class knows it's, “condom,” next? 2.) A car traveled 28 miles in 30 minutes. How many miles per hour was it traveling?” A. 28. B. 36. C. 56. D. No miles per hour. Gee, you would think they never heard the “tree falling in the forest” logic before. The answer is “no miles per hour” as there was no driver in the car therefore the speedometer never moved . . . 3.) “Ann is taller than Jill and Kelly is shorter than Ann. Which of the following statements would be most accurate?” A. Kelly is shorter than Jill. B. Kelly is taller than Jill. C. Kelly is as tall as Jill. D. Kelly and Jill think Ann has a big ass. Well, since neither Kelly nor Jill want to be caught dead standing next to Ann, I’m going to jump right out there and go with “D”.
Well, this went on with some boxes, triangles and circles mixed in just to see if you know the difference between round, square and, well, triangle looking things and there were some questions about “rearranging” the letters of words from Melmac that were a breeze and then you submit the test and await the results.
My IQ score came back at "127." Now, even dumber than taking the test in the first place, I had absolutely no idea what that meant . . . Compared to what? And, in whose opinion? In the world of “surfing” begets “surfing,” I fished around and came up with some information that, again, may or may not, put this into perspective. Some sites I found said that Mensa members are 130+ (well, I didn't want to join their silly little club in the first place). Another site said only 1% of the world is over 135 (let's see . . . 1% of SEVEN BILLION PEOPLE!). Now, that really seems like a room full . . .
Then I ran across another Web site that sort of took the wind out of my sails. Using words like, “Intelligence Interval,” “Cognitive Designation,” and “Common Possessors,” which, I suppose means anybody’s guess, I was subjected to the realization that, while rated a nano-brainwave higher than the average “ameba,” I had fallen several rungs lower on the grey matter ladder than, “Gifted,” “Highly Gifted,” “Genius” (don’t tell my wife), “High Genius,” “Highest Genius,” and for heavens sake don’t tell my children . . . “Unmeasurable Genius.” (What this Mensa type site apparently doesn’t have is “spell-check,” as mine actually jumped right out of my CPU and wrote “Immeasurable” on my monitor with a crayon and I’m here to tell you that will get your attention).
Now would, of course, be the place at which I would make my point. But, that must come to people who score 128 or higher, because I haven’t the slightest clue what my point is. I suppose I don’t feel any more stupid than I did before I took the test, however, I now know eighteen classes, or excuse me, cognitive designations with an IQ greater than mine. Oh, and of course, I also know those intelligence interval and common possessor things, but no real idea of why I would ever want to use them.
I do know I should stop Internet surfing before I run into a Web site gauging virility, I can only take so much . . .
T. Michael Barclay
Or, How to Hold Back if There is Something You Want to Say . . .
If you ever think that you want to know just how smart you are, let me save you some time, you don’t, and, you aren’t. If you still need proof, the sheer act of trying to find out will make “ignorance is bliss” seem like the 11th Commandment. The idea of taking a test and then living in some arbitrary numerical intelligence quadrant for the rest of your life is pure insanity in its rawest form. To start with, they never give you the test when you’re six years old and know everything, who are they trying to fool? No . . . they wait until you’ve gone to school for ten or twelve years and have had every original thought ripped right out of your gourd. For years I thought the number listed in my teachers Bio was their age . . . it’s their IQ! Just how are you supposed to learn anything from someone with an IQ of 23? Trust me, the book, “Everything I needed to know I learned in Kindergarten,” is no joke.
Who’s to know who made up these tests in the first place and exactly what their mental state was at the time. Who, I ask you, would write down random numbers or designs, figured out the exact difference between them and then write down more to see if anyone else could reach the same drug induced state and figure it out? What kind of society are we supposed to have with questions like; “Which one of these five is least like the other four”? Look around, it’s probably you! Of course there is a thin line between genius and insanity, a crazy person drew the line and hasn’t stopped laughing since.
Having said all that, there I was surfing among the rip tide in the Google Ocean when I was sucked right into a site called "Emode.com" (The original IQ test?). Well, I was there and it was there, so I decided to just go ahead and take their silly little test. Now, given that they are trying to sell something, this may (or may not) skew their results (they, of course, say it doesn't). A quick glance shows that all those geniuses are a lucky lot to boot. All the questions are multiple choice! So, using infant logic combined with my superior intellect, I immediately figured out that if you take the word “geniuses” and drop the “n,” the “i,’ and one of the “e’s,” you end up with “guses”. Now, breaking the Mensa code of secrecy, I, for the first time anywhere, reveal that by using the original “Latin” derivative and exchanging the “e” with the first “s,” you get the real secret behind these highly gifted IQ scores . . . They GUESS!
So, how could I fail? I’ve been guessing with the best of them my entire life and managed to hold a “C” average. And, if some fool hadn’t invented “Time Out,” I would have never had to sit in the corner for that attitude thing either. Let’s see what we have here: 1.) “HAND is to Glove as HEAD is to . . .” A. Hair. B. Neck. C. Earring. D. Hat . . . An obvious trick question as anyone who has taken a Jr. High “health” class knows it's, “condom,” next? 2.) A car traveled 28 miles in 30 minutes. How many miles per hour was it traveling?” A. 28. B. 36. C. 56. D. No miles per hour. Gee, you would think they never heard the “tree falling in the forest” logic before. The answer is “no miles per hour” as there was no driver in the car therefore the speedometer never moved . . . 3.) “Ann is taller than Jill and Kelly is shorter than Ann. Which of the following statements would be most accurate?” A. Kelly is shorter than Jill. B. Kelly is taller than Jill. C. Kelly is as tall as Jill. D. Kelly and Jill think Ann has a big ass. Well, since neither Kelly nor Jill want to be caught dead standing next to Ann, I’m going to jump right out there and go with “D”.
Well, this went on with some boxes, triangles and circles mixed in just to see if you know the difference between round, square and, well, triangle looking things and there were some questions about “rearranging” the letters of words from Melmac that were a breeze and then you submit the test and await the results.
My IQ score came back at "127." Now, even dumber than taking the test in the first place, I had absolutely no idea what that meant . . . Compared to what? And, in whose opinion? In the world of “surfing” begets “surfing,” I fished around and came up with some information that, again, may or may not, put this into perspective. Some sites I found said that Mensa members are 130+ (well, I didn't want to join their silly little club in the first place). Another site said only 1% of the world is over 135 (let's see . . . 1% of SEVEN BILLION PEOPLE!). Now, that really seems like a room full . . .
Then I ran across another Web site that sort of took the wind out of my sails. Using words like, “Intelligence Interval,” “Cognitive Designation,” and “Common Possessors,” which, I suppose means anybody’s guess, I was subjected to the realization that, while rated a nano-brainwave higher than the average “ameba,” I had fallen several rungs lower on the grey matter ladder than, “Gifted,” “Highly Gifted,” “Genius” (don’t tell my wife), “High Genius,” “Highest Genius,” and for heavens sake don’t tell my children . . . “Unmeasurable Genius.” (What this Mensa type site apparently doesn’t have is “spell-check,” as mine actually jumped right out of my CPU and wrote “Immeasurable” on my monitor with a crayon and I’m here to tell you that will get your attention).
Now would, of course, be the place at which I would make my point. But, that must come to people who score 128 or higher, because I haven’t the slightest clue what my point is. I suppose I don’t feel any more stupid than I did before I took the test, however, I now know eighteen classes, or excuse me, cognitive designations with an IQ greater than mine. Oh, and of course, I also know those intelligence interval and common possessor things, but no real idea of why I would ever want to use them.
I do know I should stop Internet surfing before I run into a Web site gauging virility, I can only take so much . . .
T. Michael Barclay
Tuesday, September 09, 2003
GETTING TO THAT NEW YEARS RESOLUTION –
And it’s Only September . . .
While cleaning out the old communications bean basket (that would be my ‘head’ for those in Elmira), I found various thoughts among the cob-webs . . . Just how valuable can Ted Williams’ DNA be considering how little it has done for his Son? And, I’m not an expert in “Cryonics,” but, in theory, for this process to work, don’t all the body parts sort of need to be attached to one another, or at the very least, in the same container? . . . Considering the mental state of the participants in “Flash Mob’s,” why hasn’t some enterprising marketing type just sent out E-mails telling everyone to “Show up at X book store, pick up your favorite book, pay for it and leave? . . . You could double your sales before these idiots figured it out! . . . I didn’t think it was possible, however, SPAM is giving “Spam” an even worse image . . . Actually it’s not all that bad if you wash it down with Tang . . .
I have finally decided that voting for a “President” is just like deciding to get married after the first date, reality doesn’t really set in until you find out your mates entire family is nuts! . . . If the Cleveland and Atlanta baseball team names upset the American Indian, why aren’t Christians disturbed with Anaheim or New Orleans? . . . How many flies does it take to screw in a light bulb? Two, I just can’t figure out how they get in there (just threw that in there to see if you were paying attention) . . . WMD’s not withstanding, does it seem that a great number of the Iraqi people had what they deserved all along? . . .
Think Walt Disney knew something when he located Mickey Mouse and Goofy in California? . . . I say, “Vote for Gary Coleman,” he represents the ethnic base, looks up to the average voter and is the only one in the race that really needs a job . . . Come to think of it, Walt Disney knew his electorate, his second choice was Florida and half the voters in that State still think they elected a guy named Chad . . . Why is looking straight ahead and talking on a cell phone while driving worse than driving while looking into a disrupted rearview mirror and putting on lip-stick . . . I don’t ever want to see another plane high-jacking, however, if there has to be one, I would like to see it done with a pair of “mustache” scissors so I won’t feel so bad about the dozen they’ve taken from me . . . Wait a minute, those weren’t exactly your normal WASP's that took my scissors . . . Level “Orange” time . . .
Anyone notice the gas price gouging we take each “labor-day” holiday? . . . Anyone notice the most profitable corporations currently are the oil conglomerates? . . . Anyone care? . . . Oh, that’s why . . . Anyone notice the gas purging we have at each “Thanksgiving” holiday? . . . Well, I guess those aren’t exactly related . . . Headline, “Consumers’ phone complaints down” . . . I explain that the same way liberals explain a jobless rate decrease during a Republican administration . . . At some point people just stop trying and give up . . . My explanation is not a “spin”. . . Isn’t something lost in the argument by small business owners that the government should leave them alone and let them grow their business any way they want to, but to put regulations and restrictions in to stop Wal-Mart, Microsoft, etc. who got there operating under the same rules? . . . See “oil conglomerates” above . . .
Strange But True . . . the Texas Coca-Cola Bottler Association Vending Conference was held at the same hotel, at the same time, as the Texas Narcotics Officers Association were holding their meetings (I was there) . . . Lobby Activities bulletin board, “TEXAS NARCOTICS ASSOCIATION – ROOMS G, H & I . . . COKE MEETINGS - ROME J . . . How convenient! . . . Want bigger odds? . . . My wife and I have the same birthday, and that’s not even the strange part . . . The date? . . . 9/11 . . . go figure.
Wow . . . look at all the room I have now that I cleared all that crud out of there . . . and it cleared up my sinus problem too. Now I can go back to focusing on the obsolete and mundane like normal . . .
T. Michael Barclay
And it’s Only September . . .
While cleaning out the old communications bean basket (that would be my ‘head’ for those in Elmira), I found various thoughts among the cob-webs . . . Just how valuable can Ted Williams’ DNA be considering how little it has done for his Son? And, I’m not an expert in “Cryonics,” but, in theory, for this process to work, don’t all the body parts sort of need to be attached to one another, or at the very least, in the same container? . . . Considering the mental state of the participants in “Flash Mob’s,” why hasn’t some enterprising marketing type just sent out E-mails telling everyone to “Show up at X book store, pick up your favorite book, pay for it and leave? . . . You could double your sales before these idiots figured it out! . . . I didn’t think it was possible, however, SPAM is giving “Spam” an even worse image . . . Actually it’s not all that bad if you wash it down with Tang . . .
I have finally decided that voting for a “President” is just like deciding to get married after the first date, reality doesn’t really set in until you find out your mates entire family is nuts! . . . If the Cleveland and Atlanta baseball team names upset the American Indian, why aren’t Christians disturbed with Anaheim or New Orleans? . . . How many flies does it take to screw in a light bulb? Two, I just can’t figure out how they get in there (just threw that in there to see if you were paying attention) . . . WMD’s not withstanding, does it seem that a great number of the Iraqi people had what they deserved all along? . . .
Think Walt Disney knew something when he located Mickey Mouse and Goofy in California? . . . I say, “Vote for Gary Coleman,” he represents the ethnic base, looks up to the average voter and is the only one in the race that really needs a job . . . Come to think of it, Walt Disney knew his electorate, his second choice was Florida and half the voters in that State still think they elected a guy named Chad . . . Why is looking straight ahead and talking on a cell phone while driving worse than driving while looking into a disrupted rearview mirror and putting on lip-stick . . . I don’t ever want to see another plane high-jacking, however, if there has to be one, I would like to see it done with a pair of “mustache” scissors so I won’t feel so bad about the dozen they’ve taken from me . . . Wait a minute, those weren’t exactly your normal WASP's that took my scissors . . . Level “Orange” time . . .
Anyone notice the gas price gouging we take each “labor-day” holiday? . . . Anyone notice the most profitable corporations currently are the oil conglomerates? . . . Anyone care? . . . Oh, that’s why . . . Anyone notice the gas purging we have at each “Thanksgiving” holiday? . . . Well, I guess those aren’t exactly related . . . Headline, “Consumers’ phone complaints down” . . . I explain that the same way liberals explain a jobless rate decrease during a Republican administration . . . At some point people just stop trying and give up . . . My explanation is not a “spin”. . . Isn’t something lost in the argument by small business owners that the government should leave them alone and let them grow their business any way they want to, but to put regulations and restrictions in to stop Wal-Mart, Microsoft, etc. who got there operating under the same rules? . . . See “oil conglomerates” above . . .
Strange But True . . . the Texas Coca-Cola Bottler Association Vending Conference was held at the same hotel, at the same time, as the Texas Narcotics Officers Association were holding their meetings (I was there) . . . Lobby Activities bulletin board, “TEXAS NARCOTICS ASSOCIATION – ROOMS G, H & I . . . COKE MEETINGS - ROME J . . . How convenient! . . . Want bigger odds? . . . My wife and I have the same birthday, and that’s not even the strange part . . . The date? . . . 9/11 . . . go figure.
Wow . . . look at all the room I have now that I cleared all that crud out of there . . . and it cleared up my sinus problem too. Now I can go back to focusing on the obsolete and mundane like normal . . .
T. Michael Barclay
