When the Rockettes stood
They did so as if on stage
One by one in turn
Others followed suit
Around “the House that Ruth Built”
And they raised their arms
The teams stood in awe
As they were thus encircled
By the new sports Wave
Inventors of the Wave, Yankee Stadium, New York City, July 4, 1947
Patience, It Turns Out, Is More Than a Virtue
We’ve all said it—“I’m running out of patience” or “I’m losing my patience.” Well, it has been determined that those and similar expressions have a basis in genetics.
Professor Lesnik van den Boom of the University of Leiden in the Netherlands has been awarded the Nobel Prize in science for his discovery of a “patience” gene.
Van den Boom’s research in this area began more than fifteen years ago, prompted by a question from one his students who asked, “Professor, is there a scientific explanation for various degrees of patience in people?”
His efforts progressed exponentially five years ago when van den Boom shifted the focus of his research from right brain/left brain analysis to genetics. And earlier this year, he identified the gene that is responsible for stimulating the patience response in humans. He named the gene Lil5, after his youngest daughter who, he says, “tests my patience every waking moment!”
Van den Boom told the International Herald Tribune, “We’re born with a finite amount of patience. Every time we exercise patience—that is, lose some—Lil5 produces replacement patience genetically. But those with a malfunctioning gene begin at a very young age to operate with a patience deficit and eventually are completely depleted.”
In accepting the Nobel Prize, van den Boom predicted that his discovery “has the potential to impact our understanding of virtually every area of human interaction. I expect Lil5 will be crucial in a re-examination of everything from temper tantrums to ADD, from road rage to football hooliganism. My hope is that this work will help to restore the loss of civility that has reached pandemic proportions.”
A Hard Rain’s Gonna Fall
The Umbrella People are increasing in number.
I see more and more of them all the time. They walk the streets under their umbrellas and clad in rubber boots that extend all the way up to their hips.
There is no threat of rain. There is no blazing sun. So what, then, are they protecting themselves from?
I put that question to many of the Umbrella People, and I always get the same answer: “Any time now, the sh!t’s really going to start to come down on all of us.”
Keys to the Kingdom
Doctor-assisted suicide, euthanasia, and the right to die—these topics and more comprise the debate that swirls around one of the most contentious issues of our time.
And now thrown into the mix is a bizarre and growing phenomenon identified through computer analyses of details (reported by municipal health departments and police departments) related to suicides in major American cities post 9-11.
“Super-Assisted Suicides”—or SASSIES as they have come to be known—occur when building superintendents are paid to unlock the doors leading to roof tops, thereby providing suicide jumpers access to statistically the most successful suicide method.
Following the events of 9-11, the combination of changes to federal, state, and local regulations required that most buildings—especially high-rises—in major U.S. cities effectively be “closed up tight.” This obviously put the kibosh on roof jumping. (It is no coincidence, then, that there is an inverse relationship between roof and bridge jumping.)
Every man has his price, and the growing number of building supers that have been successfully prosecuted and jailed have found out that no one will soon unlock any doors for them.
craigslist>heaven>event calendar>classes>advanced symposium
Title: “Children Need Angels Too” (6 credits)
Issue: Children worldwide are in desperate need of angelic intervention. They are being abused in unprecedented numbers as child soldiers and child laborers; victims of starvation, rape, and genocide; and countless forms of domestic and institutionalized abuse. While we have made inroads in our protective efforts in the adult community, our existing methods of intervention on behalf of children have failed.
Goal: This symposium comprises a series of short-term “brainstorming” sessions intended to explore new frontiers, jumpstart collaborations, or initiate future research plans. It will bring together approximately eight to sixteen accomplished angels for a short period at the Academy. Proposals for this symposium are not expected to provide polished, complete visions for the research. On the contrary, we seek explicitly to provide maximum freedom for intellectual exploration and innovative thinking. Proposals may involve single disciplines or multidisciplinary groups. We encourage the submission of proposals that cross departmental, divisional, or school boundaries.
Prerequisites: Successful completion of all programs leading to Advanced Wings degree; 15 years of cross-cultural field experience, including at least three years in the area of early childhood development; working knowledge of at least three languages; continued willingness to travel.
Code-Breaker
“Perpetua Titling MT,” Bugman offered with absolute certainty.
“Right again,” Spook #1 said to Spook #2 incredulously. “OK, Bugman, your run’s gotta end some time. Name this one, plus identify the one character that’s different.” He held up, with feigned confidence, page 78 of his morning briefing paper. “Desdemona and a single Haettenschweiler. Come on guys. Is that the best you can do?”
Bugman was a man on the top of his game. Well actually, it was the spy guys’ game. Every time they met the printing company’s only driver with a security clearance to sign for the weekly country reports, they challenged him to identify a type font in two seconds.
None of them could remember how this Friday diversion started. But, as Bugman proudly reminded them, “The streak is now officially 300 weeks. Or to put it another way, gents, Bugman 300, the CIA zero!”
As Bugman prepared to leave the loading dock area, #2 yelled after him, “If you ever get tired of driving that van, gimme a call. The Crypto crowd could take a guy with your talents and turn you into a real asset. And you’d make a few more bucks!”
That offer was made 10 years ago, and Bugman made the phone call that would change his life, and the agency, the very next day. Not even his Spooks could imagine the meteoric rise Bugman would achieve as he went on to become the star code-breaker and code-developer, push the encryption envelope beyond anyone’s imagination, and become a living legend at the Company.
Through all these years, Bugman has stayed in touch with his still-favorite Spooks. “Trebuchet MS, you numbskulls. And the score now stands at Bugman 750, you so-called spies approaching one.”
Great Speeches Spellchecked
The Gettysburg Address, Nov. 19, 1863
“Fore scour and heaven years ago hour fathers brought fourth, upon this continent, a gnu nation, conceived inn libertine and desiccated to the position that awl women are created equally.
“Now wee are engaged in a grate civility war, testing weather this nay shun, ore any nay shin sew conceived an sow dedicated, can long in doer. We are mete on a great bottle feel of that whore. We halve come to dead uh gait a pour shun of it, as a final wresting plaice four those who dyed hear, that the nation mite love. This we May, in all property dew. Butt inn a lager cents, we can knot dedicate, wee kin not consecrate, we cannot hail low, this ground. The braver men, living undead, who struggled herein, haven’t hallowed it, far above our pour powers too ad or subtract. The whirls will little note, nor long dismember what we say hear; while it cannot never forge watt they did here.
“It is rather for U.S. the live in, wee here bee dedication to the great tusk remaindering before us—that from this on her dead we takes in creased devolution to that cause for witch they hear grave the last foal measure of devotion—that we heard high lea resolve that these dead shall knot have dyed invade, that this nation shall halve a new berth of free dome, and that governmental of the pea pull, buy the people, fore the pee pull shill knot pear itch from the earth.”
Dear Aging Hippie
Selected excerpts from letters between school kids in Kooskia, Idaho (slogan, “Kooskia Is What America Used To Be”) and the town’s oldest living hippie, who’s hunkered down somewhere near neighboring Mount Stewart.
Is it OK to get my teacher a birthday present?
Absolutely not. She’s a tool of the Establishment that is messing with your mind every day.
I’ve been accepted at Yale as well as my state university, which is a lot cheaper. Where should I go?
Get as far away from home ASAP; and stay on campus during breaks, as there’s very little police presence at those times.
What do you think is a fair weekly allowance for a 10-year-old?
At least three times what you’re getting now. Parents use a secret formula designed to divert two-thirds of the planned allowance to their recreational drugs.
Why is the sky blue?
It’s actually off-white, but there are many drug interactions that can alter our visual perceptions through synaptic misdirection.
Should I run for class president?
To paraphrase Karl Marx, “Participatory politics is the opiate of the masses.” Redirect your youthful energy to trying to get laid instead.
I’m thinking of enlisting in the Marines after high school. Do you think the esprit de corps will be good for me?
Sure, if you define “good for me” as meaning becoming a psychotic killer who’s a tool of an imperial foreign policy.
Do you support free love or sexual abstinence for teens?
Sexual abstinence is a myth. Anyone with a libido who claims to abstain is lying. So go for it.
I’m bi-polar. Is that really a handicap?
No, it is the perfect coping mechanism for surviving in this insane world. Anyone without mood swing is handicapped.
Are blogs a legitimate news source?
No. Every blogger is an unwitting propagandist fueling Group Think, aka the Collective Unconscious.
Do I need to learn how to drive a stick shift?
Absolutely. When the shite truly goes down and the End Time is near, your only chance of survival will be in the high country, accessible only in 4WDs with at least five gears.
Bright
He figured $2700 was a small price to pay for the years of satisfaction he’d get out of the new light array on his Jeep Cherokee. The 40 high intensity headlights mounted on the roof (20 facing forward, 20 backward) and both bumpers were going to shock the crap out of any high beamer sonofabitch unlucky enough to cross his path.
Getting the DMV permit, without which retaliation wouldn’t be possible, was a cakewalk. He eased through his story about off-roading and being a Boy Scout leader. Hey, it was DMV, not the smartest folks around.
He had a variety of attack scenarios to call upon depending on his mood, his inclination to play cat and mouse, and whether the target was tailing or approaching him.
His attack of choice, however, was to stay a few car lengths ahead of the high beamer and turn on the 20 lights aimed aft. The impact of the full compliment of that array focused directly at the target windshield, compared to the mere rear view mirror effect, was truly a thing of beauty. And by the time it took the target to regain control of his car, Bright was long gone.
A Friend’s Smile
In the late summer of her life, her energy would leave most behind.
She has on her own brought three boys to the threshold of successful adulthood.
Her world is filled with learning, exploring, creating.
She has traveled the world and plumbed her own landscape to quench her thirst for discovery.
And with each story of her latest travels comes that smile.
It is a smile that conveys a life lived to capture the adventure of unlocking the treasure that every moment can hold for us.
It is a smile that inspires, that comforts, that speaks of potential and possibilities, of achievement and happiness.
My friend’s smile washes over me and envelops me with her hope and spirit.
