Saturday, November 30, 2019

Money


Digital currency (digital money, electronic money or electronic currency) is a type of currency available in digital form (in contrast to physical, such as banknotes and coins). It exhibits properties similar to physical currencies, but can allow for instantaneous transactions and borderless transfer-of-ownership.
Examples include virtual currencies, cryptocurrencies, and central bank digital currency. These currencies may be used to buy physical goods and services, but may also be restricted to certain communities such as for use inside an online game.
Digital currency is a money balance recorded electronically on a stored-value card or other devices. Another form of electronic money is network money, allowing the transfer of value on computer networks, particularly the Internet. Electronic money is also a claim on a private bank or other financial institution such as bank deposits.
Digital money can either be centralized, where there is a central point of control over the money supply, or decentralized, where the control over the money supply can come from various sources.

Money is a current medium of exchange in the form of coins and banknotes; coins and banknotes collectively.
Money is cash · hard cash · ready money · the means · the wherewithal · funds · capital · finances · (filthy) lucre · banknotes · notes · paper money · coins · change  
Money can be the assets, property, and resources owned by someone or something; wealth.
Money can signifies wealth · riches · fortune · affluence · assets · liquid assets · resources · substance · means · deep pockets · prosperity
Money is payment for work; salary · wages · remuneration · fee · stipend · emolument
With all the new forms of exchanging wealth for goods, what should you believe? Clicking on PayPal and inputting twelve coins, can you be sure to receive the prize? Pull the one-armed bandit and see what you get.
Who (or what) can you trust?
Should you just put a run on the bank and store all the paper under your mattress? Should you believe your financial institution would protect your assets? Should you believe in this new invisible money and hope the check doesn’t bounce?
Accustomed to paying for groceries with an insert of a debit card and not carrying any cash has been adjustment but easily adaptable to the new way of paying for items. No phone apps, but some scanner remote tool must be used to conform with the 21st generation of purchasing consumer abilities.
Can only wait until the next configuration of payment is given as an option and then the only method for paying bills.
I dropped by four stamped envelopes filled with handwritten checks into the post box today hoping they will reach their destination on time. I’ll check my account online.

Injuries


Everyday the news reports come through with announcements of vile acts of destruction and mayhem followed by the number of injuries and fatalities. Film at eleven.
Check out YouTube for the latest school rumble or highway disaster to check out the losers and winners. If the reports came across the wires that some major catastrophe happened and no one was injured, you wouldn’t find a crumb on the Internet unless it was a comment from your grandmother.
 If the traffic slows down and you pass a wreck and everyone is standing around looking at their crumpled autos you just drive pass and think how bad those shmucks have it, but if there are bodies on the ground and EMTs rubbernecking begins to view the carnage. What is our fascination on seeing the blood? Does this go back to the gladiators?
The body count continues to grow but it never satisfies our lust. Break your arm, get everyone to sign the cast and tell the story of the struggle with a bear or a fall from a mountain. Black eye is hard to hide so just tell everyone “You should have seen the other guy.”
Bruises or bleeding may not be outwardly seen. There are many types of injuries.
“My name is Luka
I live on the second floor
I live upstairs from you
Yes I think you've seen me before
If you hear something late at night
Some kind of trouble, some kind of fight
Just don’t ask me what it was
Just don’t ask me what it was
Just don’t ask me what it was
I think it's because I’m clumsy
I try not to talk too loud
Maybe it’s because I’m crazy
I try not to act too proud
They only hit until you cry
After that you don’t ask why
You just don’t argue anymore
You just don’t argue anymore
You just don’t argue anymore
Yes, I think I’m okay
I walked into the door again
If you ask that’s what I'll say
And it’s not your business anyway
I guess I’d like to be alone
With nothing broken, nothing thrown
Just don’t ask me how I am
Just don’t ask me how I am
Just don’t ask me how I am
My name is Luka
I live on the second floor
I live upstairs from you
Yes I think you've seen me before
If you hear something late at night
Some kind of trouble, some kind of fight
Just don’t ask me what it was
Just don’t ask me what it was
Just don’t ask me what it was
And they only hit until you cry
After that, you don’t ask why
You just don’t argue anymore
You just don’t argue anymore
You just don’t argue anymore”
…Suzanne Vega

Friday, November 29, 2019

The Day After


November 29. The day after has come.
Unless the relatives are staying a long weekend, they start packing up with heartfelt ‘Good-byes’ carrying casserole dishes wrapped in plastic wrap of yesterdays feast. The next holiday might mean that you will have to travel to visit them or stay at home. Once everyone has left it is time to attack the piles of dishes, find the remote, apply air freshener to the bathroom and try to get back to the normal routine. Time to check the Internet for all the pictures of other people’s gatherings and plates of food selfies. Then you find Aunt Betty left her Pomeranian in the backyard.
There are lots of days after.
 How was the day after your marriage ceremony? If you happen to fly off to some far and distant island resort for hours of passionate honeymoon, but unfortunately the party is over and it is time to settle into ‘being married’ and all it curtails. Put the wedding dress into a plastic bag never to be worn again, make a list of all the attendees who drank your booze writing thank you cards for the fondue heaters and other non-descript items they gave you at little expense or thought, but you have to now act as a couple to appreciate those you call your ‘friends’.
The day after you graduate is just as much of a mystery as the day before. Hand in your chore robes and flat hat but keep the tassel to hang from your car’s mirror, sleep in late then start looking for a job. Your parents are packing up your things and putting them out in the yard. You are being evicted. You are now a ‘grown-up’.
The day after your girlfriend gives birth is like no other. If you haven’t gotten married all your friends have backed off. If you have gotten married they will all come over and peer into a crib at what you two have done until it starts to hurl or stink, then they will back off. If you are lucky, they too will have a baby and you can form a new parent’s club.
The day after the big game will live on for years, but the next day is formidable. The empty beer kegs and ants on the chicken wing bones will sooner or later need to be dealt with. The fizzy pills in water will not wash away the cottonmouth and your hat won’t fit. Next year you may want to remember the game day, unless you lost.
The day after that most intimate moment can go in many directions. Maybe you want to continue. Maybe she wants to continue. Maybe you don’t. Maybe she doesn’t. A long lasting relationship can blossom or it can be an awkward moment in time.
The day after you wake up in jail. For whatever reason for incarceration, you are behind bars and must deal with the consequences. Your roommates might not be your favorites but you are stuck.
The day after getting that big promotion sounds great until you reenter the office of your former peers. No one is going to come up and pat you on the back (unless they are sucking up). You can announce your new position’s responsibilities but they all know you as that same old schmuck they ate with in the cafeteria.
The day after you die, you won’t care. There might be a hole with a stone on top with your name if someone really likes you. Otherwise everyone is going through your clothing pockets trying to find some treasure, not as a memoir of your existence but something to hoc.
The day after that…?

Thursday, November 28, 2019

Telephone Booth


In a day of remembrance one wonders if they still exist?
A telephone booth, telephone kiosk, telephone call box, telephone box or public call box is a small structure furnished with a payphone and designed for a telephone user's convenience.
In the United States and in some parts of Canada, “telephone booth” (or “phone booth”) is the commonly used term for the structure, while in the Commonwealth of Nations (particularly the United Kingdom and Australia and most of Canada), it is a “telephone box” (or “phone box”).
Such a booth usually has lighting, a door to provide privacy, and windows to let others know if the booth is in use. The booth may be furnished with a printed directory of local telephone numbers, and a booth in a formal setting, such as a hotel, may be furnished with paper and pen and even a seat. An outdoor booth may be made of metal and plastic to withstand the elements and heavy use, while an indoor booth (once known as a silence cabinet) may have more elaborate architecture and furnishings. Most outdoor booths feature the name and logo of the telephone service provider.
Back in the day when the communication device used to talk to another was attached to the wall. Even the speaker and microphone device was attached and could only stretch a few feet.
Once outside of your home shelter, to make another communication required going into another house or building and ask to borrow the phone. After enough people got pissed at strangers barging into their homes to use their phones, AT&T (who WAS the phone company at that time) started placing these boxes in selected place where people massed to give the option of placing a call away from home.
It wasn’t free and you had to have the correct change or the call would not go through. Still it was pretty cool to walk into the outdoor closet, close the folding glass door, flip through the phone book (pre-Google), drop some coins into the slots and rotate the dial (no push buttons) and wait for the other end to answer while all the outside world watched.
This was a pretty handy device when you ran out of gas on the highway and had to walk to call for a tow. It was also handy for moviemakers to record actors without them moving.
Unfortunately people started thinking of them as a toilet stall or a place to paint their message. They started disappearing like the mailbox.
Then technology presented us with the mobile phone that could be carried anywhere and answered at anytime from anyone.
Not being a fan of Dr. Who, I still wonder how Superman changed his clothes? For that matter why would he get into a glass box to take his pants off? Didn’t he know everyone could see him? Where did he put Clark Kent’s hat and tie and shirt and pants and shoes? If he bundled them up and carried him with him through the air, he could drop his glasses? If he left them in the phone booth he could be charged with cluttering? If he left his wallet it would be pretty easy to identify whom Superman is?


Thursday Turkey Day at the Tummy Temple


There is little traffic and few outside on this sunny day. Breeze knocking down leaves that are dryer and less slick than yesterday. Bright sunshine on my trip to the Tummy Temple and fairly warm temperatures made the journey refreshing.
“Happy Thanksgiving” a mother carrying her daughter says as I pass by. I replied with a smile thinking it was a good omen for the rest of the day.
Yesterday was grey and mayhem ruled the Tummy Temple. On the acres’ of flat blackness the motor machines circled the wagons searching for a spot to squeeze in-between the white lines. The choices of wire baskets were slim but Hillary (she could have been president) came out and pushed a zip cart to me. Now that is service extraordinaire.
Finding a scanner that worked, I entered the produce department to the bewilderment of the Tummy Temple at it’s finest. Women in heavy coats starting at the ceiling for deliverance, men with anxious children trying to find items in a world he’d never attended, blue aprons trying to direct the confused, bumper cars parked in pathways with drivers having a come-to-Jesus moment. There was leather, there was lace, there were tattoos, and there were panic stricken faces.
Long lines pressed tight at the tithing ushers’ stations. Carts stacked high with toilet paper; probably the most functional and necessary item for the future day of consumption.
Since I had already purchase all-the-fixin’s days earlier, I could just slow myself and enjoy the show. In all the confusion I got FREE beer, but today was a slower pace.
Today the aisles were like Dodge City after the Dalton’s left. A few leftovers were gathered for those not in the kitchen already and turmoil of yesterday had ceased.
A lovely lady walked by with a big smile that made me notice. Maybe she was smiling at something behind me? Maybe my zipper was down? Maybe my hair was all a tussle from the ride? I should have said something but I was too mellow by then.
Picked up my feast for the woods and hydration and slipped into the nearest scanning station. Push the red light to the bar code and wait for the machine to say, “Welcome Valued Customer. Help is on the way”. Today Ellie, who looked like she was working both sides of the ‘rush and get me the hell out’ section came over with her magic card to again tell the machine I was old enough to drink the same that I did yesterday and the day before that and the day before that and the day before that and the day before that. AI hasn’t started working on these machines yet, but I have faith. I thanked the Red Vest, placed my used scanner into the deposit rack and wheeled out the door.
As I unlocked my pony from the trashcan, some fella came out to his bike chained to the stop sign and smiled. I nodded and said, “You got the best parking space.” He looked confused and I rode off.
Another success trip through the neighborhood for exercise, fresh air and entertainment without getting run over with the thought of what will tomorrow hold is this years Thanksgiving.

Wednesday, November 27, 2019

Owners


Being an owner sounds so permanent.
An owner is a person who owns something: one who has the legal or rightful title to something (or someone?).
When a house is bought, the purchaser signs a pile of papers and is handed the keys to the house, but who owns it. The address and the land becomes your responsibility, including the property taxes. In reality, the bank owns the house and is letting you live there like a renter until the mortgage is paid in full. Don’t believe it? Miss a payment and see how soon you are evicted.
Is that your automobile? New or used, you are responsible for the insurance and a driver’s license but miss a payment and the repro man will be at the curb to haul it away.
Ownership gives on power over the item. It can be taken out of the store, retrieved from the box and placed on a shelf or tabletop because you have a receipt. Thousands more may have the same or similar item with proof of purchase but they do not own the design, color, shape or function.
A song or a story or a poem or a painting can be created and owned by the artist or writer or singer or poet or performer, but…
Was the creation truly original? How much was ripped off from a previous work (even unintentionally)? Was the presentation a total ownership effort or relied upon others to help assemble, record, print and published? Look at the credits at the end of a movie.
This is my land. I own it. I paid for it.
But is it really?
Like a house or an automobile or a television or an alarm clock, items can be purchased and paid off the debt and accumulated as assets or wealth, but are they really yours?
My great grandmother who owned it purchased that dish in the cupboard. That silver tray on top of the refrigerator was given to my father who owned it. At the estate sales, items will pick through what was owned by others. The rest will be thrown in landfills or rivers or oceans until all the space has run out.
This plot of land I live on was probably ‘owned’ by several people over the years. The first indigenous people (the one’s who walked upright here first) may have claimed the land as their own. They might have put up housing and lived off the land until…
The next batch came along and reclaimed the land for them.
At some point the land was surveyed and divided up into affordable blocks and papers were drawn to make the transfer legal.
Depending on the purpose of the land, some were blocked off for agriculture and some became high-rise cities and some became suburbia.
Some of the land was paved over to become highways or shopping malls and some was left alone to be natural parks so people could remember.
When life is over, the land is placed for sale to another. You never owned it anyway.
We are just renting the space along with our neighbors the squirrels, chipmunks, cardinals, blue jays, butterflies, ladybugs, wasp, bees, rats and roaches. They are the indigenous creatures who were here before we tried to scare them off or annihilate them. They will be here long after we are gone.
They own this place and allow me to share with them for a period of time.

The Turkey Drop


I’d never heard of this term (or obviously seen the movie) but I find the concept fascinating.
Finish high school; spend the summer with your best girl, then that emotional departure to college in a distant land (or the next state). A few cards and letters and perhaps a text or two, but you are too busy with college studies while she is still at home wearing your oversized letter sweater and heavy waxed graduation ring. A infrequent phone call; when you can’t say what you want to say and are forgetting the sound of the voice at the other end. Days go by. Life goes on.
After a few weeks of being apart from each other entwined bodies, fall break arrives. Time to come home for Thanksgiving with the family. And your significant other is waiting.
If experiencing college women has tainted your desire for your former main squeeze, the meeting will be awkward.
It seems breaking up at the first fall holiday (approximately 8 weeks after that emotional departure) is a thing. Time to say “Goodbye” to pimple anxiety, first drunkenness and wet underpants to become adults. It is time for adventures. It is time to explore new horizons. Distance doesn’t make the heart grow fonder.
Pictures will be burned. Sweaters will be thrown away (or sold to second hand store). Silly trinkets and heavy rings go to the dump for they are so high school. Cards will not be sent at Christmas.
If we were taught about the Turkey Drop earlier, we could prepare for the inevitable. Why don’t they have classes in this instead of Algebra?
Though an interesting thought, the ‘turkey drop’ doesn’t just happen at Thanksgiving. Sometimes you just arrive home to a surprise ‘turkey drop’. Sometimes you are served a ‘turkey drop’ from a lawyer. Sometimes you drop the turkey.
Hoping this festive season of feasting and gorging and battling over the remote and political nonsense that the ‘Turkey Drop’ won’t happen to increase the mania of the event we call ‘Thanksgiving’ (at least for now).

Butter


This is the season for cooking and I’m a “butter” baby.
Lard is fat from a pig, in both its rendered and unrendered forms. It is a semi-soft white fat derived from fatty parts of the pig, with a high-saturated fatty acid content and no trans fat. Rendering is by steaming, boiling, or dry heat. The culinary qualities of lard vary somewhat depending on the origin and processing method. At retail, refined lard is usually sold as paper-wrapped blocks.
Many cuisines use lard as a cooking fat or shortening, or as a spread similar to “butter” . It is an ingredient in various savory dishes such as sausages, pâtés, and fillings, and it is particularly favored for the preparation of pastry because of the “flakiness” it provides. In western cuisine, it has ceded its popularity to vegetable oils, but many cooks and bakers still favor it over other fats for certain uses.
But Lard is not “butter” . “Butter” is cow cheese.
The term “butter” refers to the spread dairy product when unqualified by other descriptors. The word commonly is used to describe puréed vegetable or seed and nut products such as peanut “butter” and almond “butter” . It is often applied to spread fruit products such as apple butter. Fats such as cocoa “butter” and shea “butter” that remain solid at room temperature are also known as “butters”. Non-dairy items that have a dairy-“butter” consistency may use “butter” to call that consistency to mind, including food items such as maple “butter” and witch’s “butter” and nonfood items such as baby bottom “butter” , hyena “butter” , and rock “butter” .
“Butter” is a dairy product with high butterfat content, which is solid when chilled, and at room temperature in some regions, and liquid when warmed. It is made by churning fresh or fermented cream or milk to separate the butterfat from the buttermilk. It is generally used as a spread on plain or toasted bread products and a condiment on cooked vegetables, as well as in cooking, such as baking, sauce making, and pan frying. “Butter” consists of butterfat, milk proteins and water, and added salt.
Most frequently made from cow’s milk, butter can also be manufactured from the milk of other mammals, including sheep, goats, buffalo, and yaks. Salt (such as dairy salt), flavorings (such as garlic) and preservatives are sometimes added to “butter” . Rendering “butter”, removing the water and milk solids, produces clarified butter or ghee, which is almost entirely butterfat.
“Butter” is a water-in-oil emulsion resulting from an inversion of the cream, where the milk proteins are the emulsifiers.
“Butter” remains a firm solid when refrigerated, but softens to a spreadable consistency at room temperature, and melts to a thin liquid consistency at 32 to 35 °C (90 to 95 °F). The density of “butter” is 911 grams per litre (0.950 lb per US pint).
It generally has a pale yellow color, but varies from deep yellow to nearly white. Its natural, unmodified color is dependent on the source animal’s feed and genetics, but the commercial manufacturing process commonly manipulates the color with food colorings like annatto or carotene.
If it is a green thing to be steamed, it gets “butter”. If it is any hot veggie, it gets “butter”. Oatmeal gets “butter”. Steak get grill fried in “butter”. Pancakes and waffles are slathered in “butter”.
My parents would keep me entertained (and silent) by giving me oyster crackers and pats of “butter”. Clam chowder is drowning in “butter”. All seafood is swimming in “butter”.
So now it is time to prepare the turkey.
Hand me the “butter”.

Carving Set


Just another little tradition I remember from long ago.
 Of course we said Grace first. “God is great. God is good. And we thank him for this food. By his hands we all are fed. Give us Lord our daily bread.”
Or was it “Now I lay me down to sleep. I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray to God my soul to take.” No, that was said in my pajamas before I climbed under the covers.

In the cupboard next to the dining room table was a red box taken out once a year. It was a carving set used for the Thanksgiving turkey.
The tradition was my father would stand and carve the first slices of what I found out later was a pre-cooked turkey from the club and placed samples of the bird on our plates.
Then all heck broke loose with the passing of string beans, mashed potatoes, gravy in their silver or fine china containers until my mother’s constant warming of the bread in the kitchen brought out the pots and pans.

I don’t know if my father’s father did the same tradition or was this just part of the show our family played? I don’t know if the carving set was a hand-me-down heirloom or a fancy purchase.
I don’t remember if I gave the carving set to my brother or just threw it away but I don’t have it anymore. It wasn’t a very good sharp knife, even with the honing rod. It didn’t hold an edge. My pet peeve are dull knives in the kitchen.
Years later I accumulated enough carving tools, even electric knives. Maybe that set in the red box began my fascination with knives?

Yet on this day of Thanksgiving (which to me just meant being out of school) the carving of the turkey was a tradition.
Then the carving set was neatly closed in their case and put in the drawer next to the fine linens and silver steak knives for another year.

Saturday, November 23, 2019

Kid’s Shows

Now that the Boomers are getting all weepy eyed about our childhood hero’s that came to us in a box with a black and white fuzzy window. We could hear them but they could hear us.
It took some time for the tubes to heat up and clear an image as through a fog. Though the box was a huge piece of furniture, the sound came from a tiny speaker and the volume didn’t go to 11.
These were our baby sitters. Mom and dad didn’t watch with us because they were doing mom and dad stuff somewhere else. Give us a bowl of cereal and we would just sit and watch for hours; eyes glued to the limited action on screen.
We didn’t know any of these people. They were not in our schools. They didn’t go to church with us, but they all somewhat seemed familiar. Everyone was good natured and trusting. We were growing up in the Fantasy Fifties.
There where clowns and farmers and some women who seemed like a distant aunt you stayed away from at family gatherings so you wouldn’t get you cheek pinched. There was a buckskin guy with a puppet and a sailor with a puppet. Seems there were a lot of puppets around back then.
Disney, who taught us classical music to cartoons, had a group of kids (just like us) who you wanted to be a part of. It was a Mouse Club and you got to wear mouse ears. They were not worn outside the house but when the Mouse Club came on, so did the ears. Everyone sing along.
 We gradually move onto reflections of daily life like “Father knows best” and “Leave it to Beaver”. “Ozzie & Harriett” was a favorite being about the same ages as David and Ricky and mom and dad knew their mom and dad from the ole music days. Still it was just white-bread suburban commercialism television.
There was no remote to mute the messages to buy a new refrigerator or sugar covered cereal. With only three channels, there was no need to surf because each had the same content at the same time. They all ended at midnight to the Star Spangle banner. Did we stand up?
Desegregation was still buried in the back papers of the newspaper, so the only indication of another population living among us was “Amos and Andy” and variety shows with Nat King Cole or Sammy Davis Jr. Chuck Berry, Fats Domino, Muddy Waters and Howling Wolf could only be found on late night shortwave radio.
Years would pass and television realized their audience was more sensitive to the young minds watching news clips of soldiers in foreign rice paddies and leaders of our nation warning us about nuclear annihilation. No wonder monster films became so popular.
Now the airwaves are full of high tech productions for young eyes to take in the calming messages that Mrs. Frances and Mr. Rogers tried to tell when they are not playing destructive video games. Will fluffy puppets convince you to not throw trash out your car window on the way to grandma’s house for Thanksgiving?

Friday, November 22, 2019

Be Patient


It is inevitable. There will come a time when you cannot take care of yourself. How are you as a patient to another?
It maybe a sudden event like a heart attack or a car crash when you wake up and you are in someplace unfamiliar with lots of people staring at you. You will have tubes and electronic gizmos attached all over your body to the sounds of beeps and whirs and you are not in control.
It is nice of our society to pick us up and cart us off to a medical center before the buzzards arrive, but other than mumbling to weird questions and trying to apply to directions, you are totally under control of others who tell you when to sleep and what to wear and what to eat without your consent. If that wasn’t good enough, they will pump stuff into your veins and make you swallow pills and then record you followed instructions.
Not having been to visit with a medical professional in (mumble) years, but have had a history of being part of the naked prisons in the sterile environment, self-medication has been the best policy. Total control; for better or worse. “No one to blame but myself” is a mantra.
Still of sound mind (questionable) and ancient body, one day the commands from the brain will not operate the functions required. At that point, someone else will have to step in to provide the services of eating, drinking, motion and (best of all) pooping.
Normally this is the time for family to step in. Just having the same last name does not legally require taking responsibility for this impaired relative.
Again, our guilt against destroying other people and places provides social services for those disadvantaged. Who can pass up a red bucket these days?
Lucky for the rest of us, those kind souls will pick us up, push us around, show us how to fill our time with entertainment and exercise, then go home to wash it down with wine for a paycheck.
Change your wardrobe for paper gowns open in the back to show everyone your ass. Put away those fine French patent leather shoes for some Wal-Mart slippers. Is it cold? Climb on your thin pad squeaky bed with its roller frame and pull up your paper-thin covers. Drink your water through a straw when handed to you.
Learn how to maneuver into the crowd at meal time as if getting to the table early will get you an additional napkin or package of crackers to take back to your room. This is the best you got.
You are now depending on another.
If that other isn’t a blood relative and possibly written into your will, what the heck do they care if you are comfortable or not? They are paid to clean up after you and if the insurance you purchased for so many years pays the exorbitant prices charged by the medical professionals, they will still get minimum wage. Sort of puts you in a bind.
It is easy to look behind with the photos and the memories, but there is no telling what tomorrow holds. Where is the breaking point when suicide seems to be an alternative? Even that at some point will be beholding on another.
At this season of gatherings, we get to see those who are older and weaker without much more time left and wonder when we will be sitting there too. Always courteously hold the chair for the elderly. Give them an arm when walking downstairs. You may show others how to reward you later.

Thursday, November 21, 2019

Holiday Shopping


It is time again to make that shopping list and venture out into the internet or brick and mortar stores to fill your carts with all the gifts to be wrapped and placed under the tree to be a surprise to family and friends. It is one of our best commercial traditions ever invented in the Lord’s name.
The twenty-fifth of December will be nothing more than a Wednesday to me. I’ll be thinking about the New Year’s taxes and the political nonsense going full tilt until the sunshine returns warming up the old bones.
Until then I’ll check out the ‘Black Friday’ specials to see what the cultural hits are this year.  Here is what I found.
The usual items are always popular.
Fleece is the new fur, so everyone cuddle up with hoodies and snugglies and a plaid union suit for those nights you are to cheap to turn up the heat.
Underwear. What says “Merry Holiday” more than a pair of tighty whities opened in front of everyone? Even if it some sex linguine, this is not the place for that.
Followed by the seasonal sweater or t-shirt or ridiculous hat with antlers that will quickly go to the back of the closet to rot. First take some pictures and post online at your poor taste.
Here is one I never understand. Male grooming items? Now this holiday is about a bearded guy (either one) and the guys get trimmers and shavers and smelly sauce to splash on their face to have the fragrance of a sailor or a ninja or a lumberjack. This is not the time to give the ladies some sweet perfume because that is for those intimate moments.
While we are talking about the guys, seems any hammer or screwdriver or belt sander is the perfect stocking stuffer. Since no one goes in the shop to realize the variety of rusting tools gathering dust in drawers or hanging on walls, what is one more to the collection?
Since this day is about the kids (right?) the search for the latest addiction in games or toys must raise the fog of congressional inquiries. Not having kids of my own, I cannot find the latest Cabbage Patch doll or Beanie Baby so maybe this year would be some sort of electronic computerized game? Just hand the kid a gift card and hope for the best.
What about the old folks? They are leftover from Thanksgiving and will last until the ball drops. They don’t like your opinions, love the children until they get their diapers changed (you figure it out) and whatever you offer is never good enough. Luckily they nap a lot. You could buy them a jet ski or yoga pants or Bluetooth headphones or a basketball or just throw the money out the window. Wrap them in a blanket and mash up the food until their meds kick in. Family.
What about that special gift?
Jewelry is always nice as a big surprise but it makes everything else seem shabby in comparison. Don’t propose on Christmas day. If the box is opened and not immediately cherished, move on.
If you really, really know that special person and have spent months and dollars finding the ‘perfect present’ only to be disappointed being distracted by the wrapping paper mounds, television flashes, passing cookies and eggnog, constant conversations on another subject, Christmas tunes blaring, dogs and children scattered about to lose focus of the moment.
Now if that ‘special gift’ is a car, it will make every other gift frivolous and worthless. Be careful what you present at the holidays.
Now kitchen appliances might seem a practical gift, but just like all the fondue cookers you got as wedding presents, no one wants to open the glittery paper and ribbons to find a vacuum or a washer/dryer. They may be very practical, but this is the season for rejoicing.
Spirits are always a fine gift. On the day of celebration, no one looks at the label to see how much you spent or even the alcohol content. Just pour it into the punch bowl and slush it down. Be sure to put away your kids before you begin for in the morning you’ll have no idea where they are.
This is the season where everyone feels heartfelt for the disadvantaged. Throw some change into the red pots or donate some time to your local charity or faith base organization to smile and fill some bowls with food you would not eat wearing rubber gloves then wash off before the family gathers. They will still be standing outside.
How about a cute cuddly animal? Kittens don’t sit still in stockings but puppies are a perfect photo moment. After they are named and slept on the sofa, they are still here. Just like birthing children, they are your responsibility to feed and shelter and clean up after until they are old enough…. Oh what, these furry critters are never old enough to clean up after themselves. They won’t learn French or travel to grandmas or care to decipher the Bible. When they barf, it is up to you to care for them.
After the piles of trash are gathered up filling the waste receptacles awaiting the big trucks to haul away, Christmas is done for this year.
There is still time to do something different.
Instead of spending your time putting up lights and cutting down trees, what about picking up trash? Maybe the neighbors won’t know why you didn’t join into their cultural traditions, but you will.
For the crafters, knitting a scarf or sewing a quilt and delivering it to a local shelter will mean more. Know someone with a problem to a house or car? If you have the expertise, a few hours without pay will be the most rewarding experience ever. Ever thought about getting a marker and a pad of paper and drawing a coloring book for the ones who would be surprised by the story they told you? Take a few crumbs and spread it out on the lawn. They will be appreciated.
While you are searching for that perfect gift, whether it be a gigantic television screen you can fall asleep in front of or some magic speaker who will turn on your lights and listen to you while you are snoring or some sort of shelter in place system who will record porch pirates taking your presents you forgot you bought.
I enjoy the hurry and rush of the season. People dressed in their layers of last years winter clothing, in a frantic hurry to gather the last bit of tinsel or a few sheets of poorly designed thin paper on a toilet paper tube. It is like the panic to get popcorn before the movie begins.
Still it is a tradition we all follow. There is something special about ending the year with a new teddy bear or smiles from those around you, if even for a moment.
Some say it is the season for hope and joy to raise us above from our daily drudgery of survival so let us get lost in our comics and fantasies. Hopefully the young will learn it is better to be kind to each other, but history shows we grow out of that. Even this holiday moved onto a cross. Not a merry ending.
While you and yours struggle through the masses grabbing items to please each other and complaining in lines while accumulating senseless debt, the sun will rise and the sun will set and another day will be marked off the calendar.
As for me, I’ll not adhere the custom of decorations but will appreciate the traditions. The one day that everything is shut down, I’ll venture out on the empty streets. This day is like no other.
The yard critters will always have a feast, even thought they don’t know it is Christmas. Everyday Santa brings them joy.
If I can help a neighbor or feed those lost in the winter, I’ll try. Station #16 will get a pie. No questions asked.
On December 26, the sun will rise and everyone will prepare for champagne, balloons and midnight kisses.

Wednesday, November 20, 2019

Will You Get Into Heaven?

 
Listening to the Congressional inquiry (or inquisition) one wonders how much do you really remember?
Without your notes and transcripts how can you answer Saint Peter’s questions?
What was your thinking during the moon landing of a human-made object to touch the Moon was the Soviet Union's Luna 2, on 13 September 1959? What was your reaction to the 35th president assassination on November 22, 1963, at 12:30 p.m. Central Standard Time in Dallas, Texas, while riding in a presidential motorcade through Dealey Plaza? Where were you went your father died? What final grade did you receive on the senior high school English class? How much did you pay for your first car and who was the dealership? On what day did you get baptized? How did you get out of jail? What was your SAT score?
I can barely remember what I had for lunch yesterday, much less the meeting held on Tuesday, 25, 1985 or who was in attendance. Without a group photo there is no proof of what I was wearing. How have my opinions and thoughts changed from experiences from then to now? I may have been barefoot?
I’ve kept copious notes and detailed records through the years to book note my opinions and verify questionable activities. At some point in time, they all went into the shredder because I no longer needed the evidence of my guilt or innocence.
I feel for these ‘witnesses’ being questioned before the nation and then having their testimony analysis by the media and talking heads. How many buttons was on your yellow blouse you wore to the 2003 meeting on the agenda no one remembers? Did you wear a red tie or a blue tie when you received the phone call from a former official who may have referred to a vague bit of information? Did you pay cash for that cocktail or put it on your business credit card? When did you reimburse the payment for that cocktail?
If history makes the foggy details vague and we have trouble refreshing who, what, when, where and how events happened; will Saint Peter let us in?
These grilling sideshows (even if the job description requires detail recollections of every moment in time) would be close to impossible for most of us normal’s.
I might as well push the down button.

Monday, November 18, 2019

LEARNING: Watching or Doing?


How do you learn?
In school there is this person who comes into the front of the room and spouts off information without presenting their degree of expertise in what he or she is saying. Is there a diploma on the wall disclaiming this person should be listened to, other than you have to sit there for an hour until the bell rings.
Books are assigned for reading as background for what is being taught in the classroom. Depending on your previous understanding of grammar, the text may be relevant or just confusing gibberish.
The test will show if you comprehended the lesson, like the instructions from IKEA.
Knowledge, like libraries, can be assembled but rarely used or understood.
The real test of understanding is the transfer of past experiences for you to try yourself. It is easy to watch a YouTube about a do-it-yourself, but until you try it, you’ll never know if you can accomplish the task.
Your grandmother’s recipe for the Thanksgiving turkey seems easy enough to follow, but never taste the same. Your father’s tools used to build the bookcase never seem to be level.
The written instructions and student driver testing doesn’t matter until you hit the highway. Porn can show you techniques but not in personal contact.
Each individual must “try it out” to see if the lessons were valuable. Maybe not everyone will become a carpenter or a chief or a chemist or a doctor or a pilot or a teacher or a cowboy.
With all the training techniques and Google searches, there is always something to learn. What would it take to make dim sum? How hard would it be to learn the guitar? Could I paint a picture?
Our species are curious and challenge ourselves to explore and try new things. Sometimes they work out successfully and sometimes not, but we tried.
It is not what you think you know; it is how you use it.

Assault and Battery



Recently on social media and even professional established journalist opinion pieces, there was a perturbation about a football play that raised a dire. From the video replays it seems two (or many) big guys bumping into each other went above and beyond the accepted rules of doing such mayhem. One player tore the helmet off another player and then swung the helmet onto the head with his own hat.
It is all part of the game?
 Sport includes all forms of competitive physical activity or games which, through casual or organized participation, aim to use, maintain or improve physical ability and skills while providing enjoyment to participants, and in some cases, entertainment for spectators. Hundreds of sports exist, from those between single contestants, through to those with hundreds of simultaneous participants, either in teams or competing as individuals. In certain sports such as racing, many contestants may compete, simultaneously or consecutively, with one winner; in others, the contest (a match) is between two sides, each attempting to exceed the other. Some sports allow a “tie” or “draw”, in which there is no single winner; others provide tie-breaking methods to ensure one winner and one loser. A number of contests may be arranged in a tournament producing a champion. Many sports leagues make an annual champion by arranging games in a regular sports season, followed in some cases by playoffs.
Sport is generally recognized as system of activities which are based in physical athleticism or physical dexterity, with the largest major competitions such as the Olympic Games admitting only sports meeting this definition, and other organizations such as the Council of Europe using definitions precluding activities without a physical elements from classification as sports.
However, a number of competitive, but non-physical, activities claim recognition as mind sports. The International Olympic Committee (through ARISF) recognizes both chess and bridge as bona fide sports, and Sport Accord, the international sports federation association, recognizes five non-physical sports: bridge, chess, draughts (checkers), Go, and limits the number of mind games which can be admitted as sports.
Sport is usually governed by a set of rules or customs, which serve to ensure fair competition, and allow consistent adjudication of the winner. Winning can be determined by physical events such as scoring goals or crossing a line first. Judges, who are scoring elements of the sporting performance, including objective or subjective measures such as technical performance or artistic impression, can also determine it.
Records of performance are often kept, and for popular sports, this information may be widely announced or reported in sport news. Sport is also a major source of entertainment for non-participants, with spectator sport drawing large crowds to sport venues, and reaching wider audiences through broadcasting. Sport betting is in some cases severely regulated, and in some cases is central to the sport.
The world’s most accessible and practiced sport is running, while association football is the most popular spectator sport.
Now talking about American Football (not soccer).
Football is a sport. Football is a game. Two teams try to get the ball down the field to score points. The person with the ball can throw it or run with it. To stop the play, the person holding the ball must be tackled or pushed out of bounds. There are offensive and defensive guards and tackles pushing each other and there is even a kicker.
It is a violent sport even with all the safety gear worn. When a player is injured all the fans applause and wait while the player is being dragged off the field for the game to continue. When players gets too rough the fans boo (or cheer). Yet every play has big burley guys knocking each other down until the whistle blows.
Fights break out and the fans cheer. It is not only football that gets this reaction. Baseball has bench-clearing rumbles, NASCAR has crashes, even tennis has swearing and racket throwing.

Sports are about competition and intensity, but when does it cross the line into a crime?

Assault and battery is the combination of two violent crimes: assault (the threat of violence) and battery (crime) (physical violence). This legal distinction exists only in jurisdictions that distinguish assault as threatened violence rather than actual violence.


At common law, battery is the tort of intentionally and voluntarily bringing about an no consented harmful or offensive contact with a person or to something closely associated with them. Unlike assault, in which the fear of imminent contact may support a civil claim, battery involves an actual contact. The contact can be by one person of another (the victim), with or without a weapon, or the contact may be by an object brought about by the tortfeasor. For example, the intentionally bringing a car into contact with another person, or the intentional striking of a person with a thrown rock, is a battery.
Unlike criminal law, which recognizes degrees of various crimes involving physical contact, there is but a single tort of battery. Lightly flicking a person’s ear is battery, as is severely beating someone with a tire iron. Neither is there a separate tort for a battery of a sexual nature. However, a jury hearing a battery case is free to assess higher damages for a battery in which the contact was particularly offensive or harmful.
Since it is practically impossible to avoid physical contact with others during everyday activities, everyone is presumed to consent to a certain amount of physical contact with others, such as when one person unavoidably brushes or bumps against another in a crowded lift, passage or stairway. However, physical contact may not be deemed as consented to if the acts that cause harm are prohibited acts.
Battery is a form of trespass to the person and as such no actual damage (e.g. injury) needs to be proved. Only proof of contact (with the appropriate level of intention or negligence) needs to be made.
Battery need not require body-to-body contact. Touching an object “intimately connected” to a person (such as an object he or she is holding) can also be battery. Furthermore, a contact may constitute a battery even if there is a delay between the defendant's act and the contact to the plaintiff's injury. For example, where a person who digs a pit with the intent that another will fall into it later, or where a person who mixes something offensive in food that he knows another will eat, has committed a battery against that other when the other does in fact fall into the pit or eats the offensive matter.
In the United States, the common law requires the contact for battery be “harmful or offensive.” The offensiveness is measured against a reasonable person standard. Looking at a contact objectively, as a reasonable person would see it, would this contact be offensive? Thus, a hypersensitive person would fail on a battery action if jostled by fellow passengers on a subway, as this contact is expected in normal society and a reasonable person would not find it offensive. Harmful is defined by any physical damage to the body.
Because courts have recognized a cause of action for battery in the absence of body-to-body contact, the outer limits of the tort can often be hard to define. The Pennsylvania Superior Court attempted to provide some guidance in this regard in Herr v. Booten by stressing the importance of the concept of one’s personal dignity. In that case, college students purchased and provided their friend with alcohol on the eve of his twenty-first birthday. After drinking nearly an entire bottle of Jack Daniels whiskey, the underage man died of acute ethanol poisoning. Reversing the decision of the trial court, the Pennsylvania Superior Court held that supplying a minor with alcoholic beverages, while certainly constituting a negligent act, did not rise to the level of a battery. In the words of Judge Montemuro, supplying a person with alcohol “is not an act which impinges upon that individual's sense of physical dignity or inviolability.”
The victim of a battery need not be aware of the act at the time for the tort to have occurred. For example, if a surgeon performing an appendectomy on an unconscious patient decides to take out the patient's spleen for his personal collection, the surgeon has committed a battery against the patient. Similarly, a battery occurs if the surgeon allows a cousin who is a plumber with no medical training to help fish out the appendix during the surgery. Although the patient has consented to being touched by the surgeon, this consent does not extend to people who the patient would not reasonably anticipate would be participating in the procedure.
The battery may occur even if the victim is unaware of the contact at the time and the defendant is nowhere near the scene at the time of the contact. If a tortfeasor puts an offensive substance in another person’s food, and the other person consumes the offensive substance, the battery has been committed even if the victim is not made aware that they have eaten something offensive until much later.
The degree and quality of intent in civil (tortious) battery is different from that for criminal battery. The degree and quality of intent sufficient for battery also varies between common law countries, and often within differing jurisdictions of those countries. In Australia, negligence in an action is sufficient to establish intent. In the United States, intention to do an act that ultimately results in contact is sufficient for the tort of battery, while intention to inflict an injury on another is required for criminal battery.
Intent can be transferred with battery, i.e. a person swings to hit one person and misses and hits another. He or she is still liable for a battery. Intent to commit a different tort can transfer in the same way. If a person throws a rock towards one person intending only to scare them (but not to hit them), they will be liable for battery to a different person who is hit by that rock.
The standard defenses to trespass to the person, namely necessity, consent, self-defense, and defense of others, apply to battery. As practical examples, under the defense of necessity, a physician may touch a person without that person's consent in order to render medical aid to him or her in an emergency.
Under the defense of consent, a person who has, either expressly or impliedly, consented to participation in a contact sport cannot claim in battery against other participants for a contact permitted by the rules of that sport, or expected to occur within the course of play. For example, a basketball player who commits a hard foul against an opposing player does not thereby commit a battery, because fouls are a regular part of the course of the game, even though they result in a penalty. However, a player who struck another player during a time-out would be liable for battery, because there is no game-related reason for such a contact to occur.
Self-defense as to battery can occur when a person reasonably believes that he or she is going to be attacked by another person, and involves engaging in a reasonable level of physical contact with that person in order to prevent that person from engaging in a physical attack.

I don’t know if a professional (or semi-pro) player has to sign a Release of Liability (Waiver Form) that is a legal document, which prohibits one party from suing another in the event of an accident. If one player knocks down another player, is that all part of the game? Or a crime? Assault and battery?
If the same action took place in a Wal-Mart parking lot; call the cops.