Missing: Guidance

Back into the grind, or, at least the exercise. Last week was a short exercise week courtesy of a reaction to a vaccination booster injected at my physician’s. I was rather pleased that the infirmity had indeed been temporary.

As it be mondae, the podcast episode was one of the CBC’s “Best of Ideas”, the subject the second episode of a series on “The Book of Exodus”. I came to realize as I was listening to this that so far, the better part of two hours into this programming, no reason has been given for why the subject had been selected.

Next, I realized that so many perspectives were being expressed about the writing that all of the grrr brrr about divine inspiration was irrelevant, the actual message, whatever it was and regardless of inspirational source, has been so diffused, in so many direction by human commentators that it has taken on the character of a multi-flavor all day lollypop – a lick for anyone and a flavor for everyone.

In keeping with this tradition however, I have to offer up an hypothetical ‘lost’ commandment:

“Thou shalt not compose any sentence that ends with a preposition, nor shall thou utter such, even if thy speech becomes that of Yoda.”

And if you think that doesn’t fit, consider all the logical contradictions and inconsistencies in the tale and move on.

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Striking Shards

Once more into the lees of the tabs, the grunge of the week. Today is dawned and not a bad day portending, it seems although the weather beavers are foretelling of dire weather over the darkness tonight.

This strikes at once of the ambiguity and arbitrariness of the division of time. We count days from midnight to midnight even though day is associated with the light period and night with the dark period. But why not count from noon to noon? Somewhere there is an answer to this question that is not pontificated prevarication.

Anyway, I have several articles to bash upon left until the lees of the week. First, I notice that the campus of the Black Warrior is having a ‘Knap-In’ 0900-1700 Friday, 11 March through Sunday, 13 March at the The University of Alabama’s Moundville Archaeological Park. [Link] The ‘knapping’ refers to the impulsive dressing of stones to produce flakes, blades, hand axes, and projectile points. This is considered some AmerIndian (‘Native American’) social activity by the socio-politically correct at the campus, typically prevaricative since it quite ignores that there are technically no Native Americans since the AmerIndians migrated to the Americas, primarily along the Bering Land Bridge and that stone knapping was done all over the planet.

Despite this lie-of-social-justice (that is redundant, isn’t it?) the event is worth attention if not attendance. Getting past the unctuous superiority of the rhetoric, knapping is a craft of considerable challenge and even if only observed is thought provoking and instructive. Additionally, a visit to the site is itself rewarding given the opportunity to view the mounds and the artifacts in the museum, especially the Duck Bowl. Just watch out for crowds and screaming bairns.

On a less instructional and enjoyable azimuth, I note an article [Link] in the New Yawk Times about the decrease in density of blogging among the young. The reason for this is tellingly revealed in the language of the article,

“Like any aspiring filmmaker, Michael McDonald, a high school senior, used a blog to show off his videos. But discouraged by how few people bothered to visit, he instead started posting his clips on Facebook, where his friends were sure to see and comment on his editing skills.”

‘Discouraged by how few people’ is the telling piece of the damnation. The author admits, somewhat guardedly that he does not know what a blog is, but more tellingly, he does not know what blogging is and is about.

I have commented this previously, but this provokes me to try again. The folks who write blogs to make money by drawing people to their blogs to buy stuff or look at advertisements or even get paid to blog as mediaists are not bloggers. Blogging is person. It is a form of journaling that bloggers (true bloggers) perform on the internet because of it connection to them and the convenience thereof. There is also an aspect of altruism mixed with exhibitionism that includes sharing with anyone who wants to read.

Commenting is another matter. Some of the best blogs I know of permit no or only controlled, enrolled commenting. Most comments I get on this blog are somewhere between illiterate rubbish and actual linguistic sewage, not counting the false comments that are of commercial, and hence, not blogging, form.

So the situation described by this article is that people who were not blogging but were writing on the web have ceased because they were not bloggers. Simply put they wanted attention and lacked altruism. They were not bloggers.

More worrisome perhaps is that these folk are primarily young and the indication is that their generation is missing some crucial aspect of comprehension. I am not sure whether this is surprising or not. But it does agree with my observations of the generation that is so incompetent they cannot handle money. This merely indicates that they have nothing more meaningful to say than Facebook tripe-chatter and are perhaps too lazy to think of anything that meaningful. But that might be cruel and accurate so we can’t say that.

Meanwhile, since it is sundae, I note that Anonymous has not only whacked Westboro Baptist Church, [Link] but that their instrumentality is too oblivious to internet to have noted it, except the IT guys who are apparently chained to servers in the third sub-basement? What dies this say about the nature of religionists?

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Constrained Motion

Returned just now from my Saturday morning erranding. Procured risen confections for FD SCP and the dowager parent from the Greater Metropolitan Arab emporium of constabulary delights. A crisp, almost cold morning and the drive outward was most delightful in the absence of other motorists and the pink and blue mottling of the sky that occurs when the light source is below the horizon. Ah, the majesties of Rayleigh scattering.

The expedition was saddened by having to diverge to the local petrol emporium to feed SCP transport number one. The price of petrol had risen significantly since my last filling, of order 0.08. I am in favor of democracy but not when it is a subterfuge of religionist adventurism.

While I was standing and almost shivering I noted a near collision between a Coca Cola semi and a member of the Greater Metropolitan Arab constabulary. The constable was undoubtedly on his way to whence I had come and did his best to drive under the semi that was making a pi over four right handed turn. (For the benefit of any bogs, this is what is sometimes called a left-hand-turn.) I was immediately struck by a domain division that is depicted in this graph:

This indicates that, relative to the speed limit, under normal circumstances motorcars operated by citizens normally occupy the portion of the phase space to the left while those operated by constables occupy the portion of the phase space to the right. The populations are not exclusive or exact but a mostly adequate approximation.

We also have to express our deep gratitude to the Greater Metropolitan Arab Electrical Autarky for providing us with a very restful evening. We would not have been able to sit in the dark and not use our computers or watch the audio-visual electromagnetic receiver without their kind assistance. I suppose this is one of the joys of living in the hinterland, especially in this state that is a third world (at best) country.

Now to see if there is anything in the tabs that excites comment.

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Thrilling Days of Yesteryear

Last night I was observing the local ‘news’ on the audio-visual electromagnetic receiver. One of the episodes was a film and a bit of near meaningless yak about tornado drills at a local shul. I was struck by the similarities of the drills back in the ’50’s, when I was a student, for nuclear attack.

This rather makes sense. After all, both exert a temporally weak impulse (mitigated to weakness by the atmosphere) of a pressure wave. The end result on the buildings, except for the glow-in-the-dark factor, is the same.

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