Poop lived in a small place. There weren't many people where Poop lived.
She was kind, courteous, cute. She was polite and smiled a lot. She was friendly to everybody, and she tried not to bother anyone. She was very considerate.
But some of the people in Poop's city-- if you could call a nest that small a "city"-- didn't like her. She didn't actually know if the people didn't like her, but what she knew is that they didn't act like they liked her. They would avoid her eye contact when they walked by her on the streets. They never came to her home when she invited them for parties, and they never invited her anywhere. Nobody called her. Often she would catch people talking behind their hands and looking in her direction, which made her believe they were talking about her.
She went to see a doctor, and he told her she was just making things up in her head. She hadn't heard anyone say anything negative about her so she couldn't really know if people hated her. It was probably her imagination.
Imagination or not, Poop didn't have anyone to confide in or talk with. She was alone often, and made friends with as many trees as she could.
She tried to make friends with people, but no one would talk with her. And after a while, it became pointless to ask "why?" because it simply wasn't going to be answered.
One day, Poop saw a book on the ground. It was The Ugly Duckling by Hans Christian Andersen. Knowing only that she loved books, she picked up the book and read. The story began with a mother duck and her nest filled with eggs about to hatch. When the eggs hatched, there was one particular bird who stood out as being ugly amongst her other ducklings. This bird was teased, bullied and abused by his siblings and family. He ran away from home to various other places, but he was only met with abuse and ridicule from those around him. At one point, he sees a group of migrating swans flying, and he becomes excited to join them, as he thinks it would be fun to fly, but he is too young to fly and simply watches them fly away. The more and more he's abused, the more he secludes himself and hides and runs away from everyone, until he finally can no longer take it. He decides to throw himself at the mercy of the swans, because if he's going to die he figures he might as well die at the hands of the most beautiful creatures he'd ever seen. So he went to the swans, but to his surprise they accepted him for who he was. And when he saw his reflection in the water, he saw that he had grown into a swan. He then spread his beautiful swan wings and took flight with the rest of the swans.
Poop finished the book and let her arm drop to her side.
She stared blankly ahead of her.
She was breathless.
Panting in rhythm with the book slapping her leg gently.
Slapant.
Slapant.
Slapant.
"What the fuck is wrong with you people??!!" Poop screamed at the tiny, tiny city. People poked their heads out of their windows to see what all the commotion was about. "You're all a bunch of fucking douches! You're all a bunch of fucks!!"
Poop pulled out a handgun from her waistband and let loose of a maelstrom of bullets. People dropped dead. Women's head's exploded into red mists of blood as they were separated by hot lead. Men cried and crumpled to the ground.
"We're so sorry!" the men screamed, but it was too late. Poop shot them in their knees, sending them into fits of agony. She then fired shots so close to their ears that their cheeks and scalps were burned with hot gunpowder discharge, and then she pressed the scorching gun barrel into their exposed ears, branding them for the remainder of their short, pathetic, painful lives. Poop laughed a releasing laugh as she killed the people of the town: the women who hadn't returned her calls or invited her to their parties. The school teachers who couldn't seem to remember her name even though she had participated in their classes for years and years. The store owners who always turned up their noses when she walked in. They boys who teased her. The girls who teased her. Her parents who ignored her and told her she was fat. Her school-yard peers who called her names and pushed her to the ground. All the people who beat her and kicked her and pushed her and committed horrible, horrible things to her. She released years and years of anger and repression as she bathed in the blood that she sent streaming into the sky. Everyone was in her cross hairs. And everyone, everyone, died that day with a mangled, tortured cry of agony as they realized the horrible error of their ways and understood how they had always been wrong and the pain they were feeling was justification. It was the price they were paying for their years of cruelty, and they no longer had credit cards.
Poop returned from her wonderful daydream.
She looked around at her tiny, tiny town and the tiny, tiny people who lived there.
And she took one step forward.
Away from the tiny town.
And the tiny people.
And all their tiny ways.
And that one step lead to another step.
And another step forward.
Not just away, but toward something else.
She took one more step toward something else.
She didn't know what was out there.
And she didn't know how long it would take.
But it was going to start with this step.
And this step.
And she kept stepping toward forward.
So you see, Poop was a metaphor. It was sorta like the story of the Ugly Duckling, but before the Ugly Duckling finds his group that he belongs to. And the name, Poop, was picked because it sounds like an ugly name to us, right? A person with the name Poop must be a pretty ugly person, huh? Well, Hans Cristian Andersen actually named his famous swan Poop. It's true. They just didn't include that in the original manuscript. Yeah, so now there's even more deepness to my story, right? Yeah, I'm a Literary Genius. And maybe, just maybe, we can look around and try to find those Poops that are around us, and maybe we could invite them to our parties and return their emails. Cuz they're not actually poop. They're named Poop, and they are beautiful swans. And you're pretty shallow when you don't say hi to them. And that's a way in which you can make our world a better place. You are welcome.
Friday, January 30, 2015
Thursday, January 29, 2015
On Judgment and Profiling
Some of my co-workers were emailing each other about a news article stating that there was a war on hoodies. Two men in particular were having words with each other. Let's call them A and B.
A was saying that the hoodies hadn't actually done any crimes, and declaring a war on a piece of clothing was a type of racial profiling because of the kinds of people who typically wear that piece of clothing.
B said that a piece of clothing wasn't a race, and to suggest that everything was a kind of racial profiling wasn't helpful for anyone.
A responded by asking B what he would think if he went shopping in a Walmart store and saw a fat, white man wearing torn flannel shirts and ripped jeans with three kids and a fat wife walking next to him who had chocolate stains on her cheek. A was trying to get B to admit that there was some kind of judgment B would make of the family just from looking at them.
B responded to this by saying he would see that family as just a typical American family practicing their right to be a typical American family, which was a right he had protected by serving in the military for 22 years.
A then responded by saying that B's eyes may be open but they're still glued shut, as no man can see that which he refuses to.
B then responded by saying that he was happy that he doesn't judge a person by the clothes they wear or the color of their skin, just by the stupidity that comes from their mouth, which was an old Puerto Rican proverb stated by him.
I then responded to B by asking if he was admitting to being an intelligence profiler.
No one has yet to respond to my funny, funny joke.
Before I go any further, I want you to honestly ask yourself this question: from the example above, what color/race are A and B? Did you assign a race to either or both of them? Be honest. Nobody but you will know, and nobody but you will judge. If you thought about their race, as I did, you're profiling.
Here's my take on the subject, since I don't trust or like these people enough to share my opinions with them.
Judgment works from concrete and goes to abstract.
Profiling works from abstract and goes to concrete.
Judgment: this apple looks red, so it will be delicious.
Profiling: delicious apples look red.
Judgment: those four kids walking towards me are dangerous.
Profiling: dangerous kids walk in groups.
Judgment starts with something you can see, hear, taste, touch, smell or move with your ESP powers, like a red apple or a group of kids.
Profiling starts with something intangible, like a feeling. Danger or deliciousness. Both are subjective and will not be defined by everyone in the same way in the same way.
I think it's impossible to live without judgment. Judgment happens all the time, and it gets a bad reputation. I think judgment gets a bad reputation because people make logical mistakes based on their judgments, and then take equally mistaken actions based on those incorrect judgments. My wife is pretty close to being blind, and in high school she didn't always wear her glasses, which meant there would be times when I would wave at her and she wouldn't even acknowledge my existence. "What's up with that cold shoulder??" In every day life, that typical judgment looks like this: you do something, something bad happens, you decide to never/always do certain things because of that situation. You get married, your husband beats you, you decide to never get married again. You get drunk, you get sick, you decide you're never drinking again. You saw Jaws, you hated it, you decide never to see another Stephen Spielberg film ever again. You wave, the Hottest Chick In High School completely ignores you, you decide you're never talking to her again because she's a bitch. These are all logical mistakes, and don't address the issues that have caused you pain. Your current husband beats you, not future husbands, yet you deny future husbands access to marrying you because of your past husband's actions=logical mistake. You got drunk (past tense), then you got sick and deny future drinks even in minimal proportions=logical mistake. Jaws made you sad, so you will not see any other movie which is not Jaws but was done by the same director=logical mistake. The Hot Chick didn't reciprocate, so you decide to cut off future experiences before understanding that she couldn't see you=logical mistake.
We think about judgment and profiling in the Michael Brown/Trayvon Martin/Eric Garner cases, and we instinctually feel there were obvious logical mistakes made with these three cases, even if we're not quite sure what they are. This is what we think of when with judgment and profiling-- it causes logical mistakes. Nobody wants to make a mistake, so they deny profiling and judgment all together. I don't judge people based on what they're wearing, says my coworker for fear of being seen as somebody who makes mistakes and, perhaps on the extreme, kills without reason. Trayvon's killer took notice of him and started a physical altercation with him because he was walking in a neighborhood at night. Michael's killer took notice of him because he was walking down the street in the daytime. Eric's killer took notice of him because he was breaking up a fight. There is a logical disconnect in the thinking when you see somebody walking down the street, walking in a neighborhood, or breaking up a fight, and go into a mode that leads to killing that person. Nobody wants to be thought of as a person who is crazy or paranoid enough to kill somebody just for walking down the street.
I need my cops to make judgment calls when determining who is a bad guy and who is a good guy. I need my soldiers to keep me safe and profile the enemy. We all need that. We also need sane soldiers, cops, public servants who don't judge you as a criminal simply for wearing a hoodie or walking through a neighborhood at night, or for being black. We need to stop that kind of insanity, that kind of paranoia. It cannot be acceptable any more for people to behave in ways that endanger people. And I think the first step to stopping the insanity is to admit that it's there.
It was insane that Trayvon Martin was killed for walking through his neighborhood.
It was insane that Michael Brown was killed for walking down the street.
It was insane that Eric Garner was killed for breaking up a fight.
It was insane that the grand juries decided not to indict in the Brown and Garner cases.
It. Was. Insane.
I find myself being worried that cops around the nation have the means to end life, and in some circumstances they are required to end life, and that life might be mine. I identify closer to Trayvon Marin, Michael Brown and Eric Garner than I do with any of the police officers involved in those incidents, which causes me to become concerned for my safety. And that, too, has a bit of insanity to it primarily because I'm white.
Now that we've admitted it's there, we all can work on getting treatment for this insanity.
And that is a subject for another day.
A was saying that the hoodies hadn't actually done any crimes, and declaring a war on a piece of clothing was a type of racial profiling because of the kinds of people who typically wear that piece of clothing.
B said that a piece of clothing wasn't a race, and to suggest that everything was a kind of racial profiling wasn't helpful for anyone.
A responded by asking B what he would think if he went shopping in a Walmart store and saw a fat, white man wearing torn flannel shirts and ripped jeans with three kids and a fat wife walking next to him who had chocolate stains on her cheek. A was trying to get B to admit that there was some kind of judgment B would make of the family just from looking at them.
B responded to this by saying he would see that family as just a typical American family practicing their right to be a typical American family, which was a right he had protected by serving in the military for 22 years.
A then responded by saying that B's eyes may be open but they're still glued shut, as no man can see that which he refuses to.
B then responded by saying that he was happy that he doesn't judge a person by the clothes they wear or the color of their skin, just by the stupidity that comes from their mouth, which was an old Puerto Rican proverb stated by him.
I then responded to B by asking if he was admitting to being an intelligence profiler.
No one has yet to respond to my funny, funny joke.
Before I go any further, I want you to honestly ask yourself this question: from the example above, what color/race are A and B? Did you assign a race to either or both of them? Be honest. Nobody but you will know, and nobody but you will judge. If you thought about their race, as I did, you're profiling.
Here's my take on the subject, since I don't trust or like these people enough to share my opinions with them.
Judgment works from concrete and goes to abstract.
Profiling works from abstract and goes to concrete.
Judgment: this apple looks red, so it will be delicious.
Profiling: delicious apples look red.
Judgment: those four kids walking towards me are dangerous.
Profiling: dangerous kids walk in groups.
Judgment starts with something you can see, hear, taste, touch, smell or move with your ESP powers, like a red apple or a group of kids.
Profiling starts with something intangible, like a feeling. Danger or deliciousness. Both are subjective and will not be defined by everyone in the same way in the same way.
I think it's impossible to live without judgment. Judgment happens all the time, and it gets a bad reputation. I think judgment gets a bad reputation because people make logical mistakes based on their judgments, and then take equally mistaken actions based on those incorrect judgments. My wife is pretty close to being blind, and in high school she didn't always wear her glasses, which meant there would be times when I would wave at her and she wouldn't even acknowledge my existence. "What's up with that cold shoulder??" In every day life, that typical judgment looks like this: you do something, something bad happens, you decide to never/always do certain things because of that situation. You get married, your husband beats you, you decide to never get married again. You get drunk, you get sick, you decide you're never drinking again. You saw Jaws, you hated it, you decide never to see another Stephen Spielberg film ever again. You wave, the Hottest Chick In High School completely ignores you, you decide you're never talking to her again because she's a bitch. These are all logical mistakes, and don't address the issues that have caused you pain. Your current husband beats you, not future husbands, yet you deny future husbands access to marrying you because of your past husband's actions=logical mistake. You got drunk (past tense), then you got sick and deny future drinks even in minimal proportions=logical mistake. Jaws made you sad, so you will not see any other movie which is not Jaws but was done by the same director=logical mistake. The Hot Chick didn't reciprocate, so you decide to cut off future experiences before understanding that she couldn't see you=logical mistake.
We think about judgment and profiling in the Michael Brown/Trayvon Martin/Eric Garner cases, and we instinctually feel there were obvious logical mistakes made with these three cases, even if we're not quite sure what they are. This is what we think of when with judgment and profiling-- it causes logical mistakes. Nobody wants to make a mistake, so they deny profiling and judgment all together. I don't judge people based on what they're wearing, says my coworker for fear of being seen as somebody who makes mistakes and, perhaps on the extreme, kills without reason. Trayvon's killer took notice of him and started a physical altercation with him because he was walking in a neighborhood at night. Michael's killer took notice of him because he was walking down the street in the daytime. Eric's killer took notice of him because he was breaking up a fight. There is a logical disconnect in the thinking when you see somebody walking down the street, walking in a neighborhood, or breaking up a fight, and go into a mode that leads to killing that person. Nobody wants to be thought of as a person who is crazy or paranoid enough to kill somebody just for walking down the street.
I need my cops to make judgment calls when determining who is a bad guy and who is a good guy. I need my soldiers to keep me safe and profile the enemy. We all need that. We also need sane soldiers, cops, public servants who don't judge you as a criminal simply for wearing a hoodie or walking through a neighborhood at night, or for being black. We need to stop that kind of insanity, that kind of paranoia. It cannot be acceptable any more for people to behave in ways that endanger people. And I think the first step to stopping the insanity is to admit that it's there.
It was insane that Trayvon Martin was killed for walking through his neighborhood.
It was insane that Michael Brown was killed for walking down the street.
It was insane that Eric Garner was killed for breaking up a fight.
It was insane that the grand juries decided not to indict in the Brown and Garner cases.
It. Was. Insane.
I find myself being worried that cops around the nation have the means to end life, and in some circumstances they are required to end life, and that life might be mine. I identify closer to Trayvon Marin, Michael Brown and Eric Garner than I do with any of the police officers involved in those incidents, which causes me to become concerned for my safety. And that, too, has a bit of insanity to it primarily because I'm white.
Now that we've admitted it's there, we all can work on getting treatment for this insanity.
And that is a subject for another day.
Wednesday, January 28, 2015
Turtle and Tortise and The Stupid Story
Turtle addressed her class.
"I am very disappointed in you. I asked you all to finish your homework, and only 3 of you actually did that I asked you to do. There are 400 of you in here! I don't know what your problem is, but you had better get your act together!"
Most of Turtle's students turned their noses up at her.
"What a bitch."
"She has no idea what we're going through."
"Fuck her, I'm not listening to her anymore."
"I did my homework, but I don't like getting yelled at. I know she's not yelling at me. But she's yelling at all of us, and I'm a part of all of us. This doesn't make me want to do anything for her again."
The next time Turtle asked her class to do their homework, only 2 completed their work. Again, Turtle chastised them, telling them they had all fallen short of her expectations and they were disappointing to her. Ultimately, none of Turtle's students did their homework. They all failed school. And they were all put on welfare. All because they didn't finishe their homework in Turtle's class.
Tortise addressed her class.
"Well, I noticed that only 3 of you were able to complete your homework, leaving 397 of you who weren't able to finish your homework. So you know, I'm going to continue to assign homework, and it is part of your grade in this class. So I need to make sure you guys do as much of your homework as you can. I'd like to see what's going on with you guys so that I can adjust things as needed to give you all the best chances to succeed that I can."
And Tortise then guided a respectful class discussion.
The students didn't say much, but most of them would say they felt respected.
And none of them were yelled at.
And the following week, more students turned in their work.
And more continued to turn in their work as the semester continued.
And they all passed.
And they all went on to be happy and wealthy and President of the United States of America.
"I am very disappointed in you. I asked you all to finish your homework, and only 3 of you actually did that I asked you to do. There are 400 of you in here! I don't know what your problem is, but you had better get your act together!"
Most of Turtle's students turned their noses up at her.
"What a bitch."
"She has no idea what we're going through."
"Fuck her, I'm not listening to her anymore."
"I did my homework, but I don't like getting yelled at. I know she's not yelling at me. But she's yelling at all of us, and I'm a part of all of us. This doesn't make me want to do anything for her again."
The next time Turtle asked her class to do their homework, only 2 completed their work. Again, Turtle chastised them, telling them they had all fallen short of her expectations and they were disappointing to her. Ultimately, none of Turtle's students did their homework. They all failed school. And they were all put on welfare. All because they didn't finishe their homework in Turtle's class.
Tortise addressed her class.
"Well, I noticed that only 3 of you were able to complete your homework, leaving 397 of you who weren't able to finish your homework. So you know, I'm going to continue to assign homework, and it is part of your grade in this class. So I need to make sure you guys do as much of your homework as you can. I'd like to see what's going on with you guys so that I can adjust things as needed to give you all the best chances to succeed that I can."
And Tortise then guided a respectful class discussion.
The students didn't say much, but most of them would say they felt respected.
And none of them were yelled at.
And the following week, more students turned in their work.
And more continued to turn in their work as the semester continued.
And they all passed.
And they all went on to be happy and wealthy and President of the United States of America.
Tuesday, January 20, 2015
My Arcade Dream
My arcade would have the following games (in no particular order):
Gorf
Q*Bert
Donkey Kong
Donkey Kong Jr.
Pac-Man
Ms. Pac-Man
Tron
Cyber Sled with two functional audio seats for players one and two
Tempest
Space Invaders
Phoenix
Qix
Gauntlet with 4-player controls
X-Men with 6-player controls
Asteroids Deluxe
Bagman
Frogger
House of the Dead
Spy Hunter with the steering wheel and pedal controls
Tetris
Street Fighter II
Barrier (the first video game I remember getting a high score on)
Missile Command
Jungle King (with the original audio)
Moon Patrol
Galaga
Battlezone
Centipede
Karate Champ
Yie Ar Kung Fu
Punch Out!!
Crystal Castles
Burger Time
San Francisco Rush 2049: Special Edition 4 seat version
Robotron
Wizard of Wor
Berzerk
Joust
Commando
Pole Position
Mappy
Dig Dug
Star Trek
Star Wars sit down version
Tapper
Journey with a working tape deck playing Journey music
The Simpsons Arcade Game 4 player version
Vanguard
Tekken
I would serve beer and soda. I would have a real popcorn maker. I would serve good pizza and really good burgers. No food or drinks would be allowed in the arcade. I would have skee ball and ticket games and prizes. I would have music playing from a solid jukebox with rad tunes inside. There would be lots of black lights so your shoe laces and teeth look like they're glowing. It would have great temperature controls, so you'd never get too hot, and you'd never get too cold. High scores would be posted on large screens around the arcade, showing daily, weekly, and all-time high scores. Big screen TVs would be around the arcade, bathing the players in the moderate light from movies like Tron and Halloween. Maybe not that. Scratch that, it would negate the mood lighting and black lights. And it would be so much fun. And you'd want to drink and eat and much popcorn and bring your friends to play games. You'd have so much fun at my arcade, you wouldn't want to leave and you couldn't wait to come back. You'd have a favorite food and drink, but you'd try them all, but you would have one that was delicious to you. You'd have a lot of favorite games, but you'd have just one or two that you were really good at. And you'd meet people at the arcade who were like you, and they would help you get better, and you'd help them get better. And every game would only be a quarter, no $0.50 games here! And there would be change machines and drink rails. And you could rent the arcade for special occasions. And it would be a blast. And the music of all those machines would play all night long and be glorious. And the beer would be cold and crisp and fresh. And the food would be hot and flavorful. And the popcorn would be like movie popcorn, but better. Buttery and salty and melt-in-your-mouth good. And people would have fun and love it and be happy. And it would be so great. Yeah... ... ... ...
Gorf
Q*Bert
Donkey Kong
Donkey Kong Jr.
Pac-Man
Ms. Pac-Man
Tron
Cyber Sled with two functional audio seats for players one and two
Tempest
Space Invaders
Phoenix
Qix
Gauntlet with 4-player controls
X-Men with 6-player controls
Asteroids Deluxe
Bagman
Frogger
House of the Dead
Spy Hunter with the steering wheel and pedal controls
Tetris
Street Fighter II
Barrier (the first video game I remember getting a high score on)
Missile Command
Jungle King (with the original audio)
Moon Patrol
Galaga
Battlezone
Centipede
Karate Champ
Yie Ar Kung Fu
Punch Out!!
Crystal Castles
Burger Time
San Francisco Rush 2049: Special Edition 4 seat version
Robotron
Wizard of Wor
Berzerk
Joust
Commando
Pole Position
Mappy
Dig Dug
Star Trek
Star Wars sit down version
Tapper
Journey with a working tape deck playing Journey music
The Simpsons Arcade Game 4 player version
Vanguard
Tekken
I would serve beer and soda. I would have a real popcorn maker. I would serve good pizza and really good burgers. No food or drinks would be allowed in the arcade. I would have skee ball and ticket games and prizes. I would have music playing from a solid jukebox with rad tunes inside. There would be lots of black lights so your shoe laces and teeth look like they're glowing. It would have great temperature controls, so you'd never get too hot, and you'd never get too cold. High scores would be posted on large screens around the arcade, showing daily, weekly, and all-time high scores. Big screen TVs would be around the arcade, bathing the players in the moderate light from movies like Tron and Halloween. Maybe not that. Scratch that, it would negate the mood lighting and black lights. And it would be so much fun. And you'd want to drink and eat and much popcorn and bring your friends to play games. You'd have so much fun at my arcade, you wouldn't want to leave and you couldn't wait to come back. You'd have a favorite food and drink, but you'd try them all, but you would have one that was delicious to you. You'd have a lot of favorite games, but you'd have just one or two that you were really good at. And you'd meet people at the arcade who were like you, and they would help you get better, and you'd help them get better. And every game would only be a quarter, no $0.50 games here! And there would be change machines and drink rails. And you could rent the arcade for special occasions. And it would be a blast. And the music of all those machines would play all night long and be glorious. And the beer would be cold and crisp and fresh. And the food would be hot and flavorful. And the popcorn would be like movie popcorn, but better. Buttery and salty and melt-in-your-mouth good. And people would have fun and love it and be happy. And it would be so great. Yeah... ... ... ...
Thursday, January 15, 2015
Pig, Peacock, Panther (Huh-huh-huh... I Said, "Cock"... Huh-huh-huh...)
Bird stood in front of everyone.
"Everyone, listen up! Things are going to change. I know you've become used to how things are, but they aren't going to stay that way. I know we'd all like things to stay the same, but they're not going to. They're going to change."
Pig became excited. "I'm excited for this change! It means that we will all have an adventure!" And Pig started to list very well-thought, intelligent possibilities for how things could get better because of this change.
Peacock was less than happy. "You have no idea what's coming, and things could be horrible. Here, let me list for you the ways in which things will become worse than they are now." And Peacock started to list very well-thought, intelligent possibilities for how things could get worse because of this change.
Panther was unfazed. "I'm not changing. They can't make me." Panther dug in his heels.
The Change Happened.
Some good Change, some bad Change, some Change was neither good nor bad.
Pig went through the Change with everyone else and felt how Pig felt.
Peacock went through the Change with everyone else and felt how Peacock felt.
Panther went through the Change, because even though Panther decided not to change, there is no escaping Change.
"Everyone, listen up! Things are going to change. I know you've become used to how things are, but they aren't going to stay that way. I know we'd all like things to stay the same, but they're not going to. They're going to change."
Pig became excited. "I'm excited for this change! It means that we will all have an adventure!" And Pig started to list very well-thought, intelligent possibilities for how things could get better because of this change.
Peacock was less than happy. "You have no idea what's coming, and things could be horrible. Here, let me list for you the ways in which things will become worse than they are now." And Peacock started to list very well-thought, intelligent possibilities for how things could get worse because of this change.
Panther was unfazed. "I'm not changing. They can't make me." Panther dug in his heels.
The Change Happened.
Some good Change, some bad Change, some Change was neither good nor bad.
Pig went through the Change with everyone else and felt how Pig felt.
Peacock went through the Change with everyone else and felt how Peacock felt.
Panther went through the Change, because even though Panther decided not to change, there is no escaping Change.
Clam and Fish
Fish and Clam sat talking.
"It's cold in here," said Clam.
And Fish knew how to fix it!
Fish ran to the thermostat and turned on the heat. That would help Clam. Fish returned to Clam, proud that Fish was able to help.
"It's not cold anymore," said Clam. "Now it's hot."
And Fish knew how to fix it!
Fish ran and got a fan, plugged it in, pointed it at Clam, and turned it on. That would help Clam, Fish thought.
"It's a little breezy," said Clam. "My toupee is kinda flying off."
And Fish knew how to fix it!
Fish ran and got tape, the stickier the better, and neatly placed it on Clam's head, and then stuck Clam's toupee to the sticky tape. Aha, though Fish. This will fix Clam's problems.
Clam sat and thought.
Clam was glad to have a friend like Fish, seemingly dedicated to fixing Clam's life.
Clam also took stock of the silly, silly mess Clam was currently in. Clam sat in a cold room, with the heater on, a fan blowing on Clam, and Clam's toupee strongly stuck to Clam's head with tape.
None of the things Clam had said were in need of fixing.
Clam had enjoyed things the way they were, and Clam hadn't asked for anything to change in any way.
Fish had seen problems where there were no problems.
Clam was just talking, but Fish heard the words as complaints. Which Clam had not intended.
And now Clam was confused about how to proceed.
Should Clam say something which will get "fixed" by Fish, even though it's fine the way it is?
Or should Claim say nothing, which still could be "fixed" by Fish, seeing everything as a complaint.
Clam looked at Fish.
Fish, eager to fix the things Clam complained about, looked back at Clam.
"Thank you for your kindness," Clam said to Fish.
"It's cold in here," said Clam.
And Fish knew how to fix it!
Fish ran to the thermostat and turned on the heat. That would help Clam. Fish returned to Clam, proud that Fish was able to help.
"It's not cold anymore," said Clam. "Now it's hot."
And Fish knew how to fix it!
Fish ran and got a fan, plugged it in, pointed it at Clam, and turned it on. That would help Clam, Fish thought.
"It's a little breezy," said Clam. "My toupee is kinda flying off."
And Fish knew how to fix it!
Fish ran and got tape, the stickier the better, and neatly placed it on Clam's head, and then stuck Clam's toupee to the sticky tape. Aha, though Fish. This will fix Clam's problems.
Clam sat and thought.
Clam was glad to have a friend like Fish, seemingly dedicated to fixing Clam's life.
Clam also took stock of the silly, silly mess Clam was currently in. Clam sat in a cold room, with the heater on, a fan blowing on Clam, and Clam's toupee strongly stuck to Clam's head with tape.
None of the things Clam had said were in need of fixing.
Clam had enjoyed things the way they were, and Clam hadn't asked for anything to change in any way.
Fish had seen problems where there were no problems.
Clam was just talking, but Fish heard the words as complaints. Which Clam had not intended.
And now Clam was confused about how to proceed.
Should Clam say something which will get "fixed" by Fish, even though it's fine the way it is?
Or should Claim say nothing, which still could be "fixed" by Fish, seeing everything as a complaint.
Clam looked at Fish.
Fish, eager to fix the things Clam complained about, looked back at Clam.
"Thank you for your kindness," Clam said to Fish.
Tuesday, January 13, 2015
Doctor's First Experiment
The Doctor was doing an experiment, and Patient came into the room.
Doctor handed Patient a piece of paper.
"On that paper," said Doctor, "I have written a name. I want you to tell me what the name is."
"Your handwriting is atrocious," said Patient, looking at the paper, "I can't tell what it's supposed to be."
"Take a guess," said Doctor, gently. "This is the experiment."
Patient took a long look at the paper, trying to decipher each individual letter. The first letter was definitely an R. After that, everything was one large squiggly mess. What names start with R? Robert? No, it doesn't look like Robert because there aren't any twigs sticking up that could be the B or the T. Ricky? No. Ramona... okay, yeah, I could see that. It might be Ramona. And now the last name... Sampson? No. St... Ste... I have no idea! I just can't read this writing. I'm gonna make the best educated guess I can.
"Ramona Stetson?"
"No," Doctor said calmly. "It's Rinkley Stotzen."
Patient looked at Doctor.
Doctor smiled.
Patient beat the shit out of Doctor.
"What the fuck kind of test is this, you fuck?!"
Doctor tried to shield his head from the vigorous beating he was getting. "It's to show you what's possible! You didn't know that name existed mere moments ago! Now you know that name exists! What new things will exist in the next few moments for you that you never knew existed before?? The world has more possibilities than you can even imagine!"
Patient lifted the exam table over his head and knocked Doctor unconscious with it. It was a sturdy table. Made from, I dunno, hard wood. Or really, really hard granite.
Doctor lay on the floor.
"That's a dumb test," Patient said to Doctor's motionless body. "You're a dumb test."
And with that, Patient walked out of the room, down to the corner deli, and ate a sandwich, pissed. It was, you know, something common. Like pastrami, or something you eat when you're pissed at a deli.
And as Doctor's warm, red blood slowly oozed onto the floor, he dreamed of the brand new, exciting world of possibility that was now open to Patient because of Doctor's experiment.
Doctor handed Patient a piece of paper.
"On that paper," said Doctor, "I have written a name. I want you to tell me what the name is."
"Your handwriting is atrocious," said Patient, looking at the paper, "I can't tell what it's supposed to be."
"Take a guess," said Doctor, gently. "This is the experiment."
Patient took a long look at the paper, trying to decipher each individual letter. The first letter was definitely an R. After that, everything was one large squiggly mess. What names start with R? Robert? No, it doesn't look like Robert because there aren't any twigs sticking up that could be the B or the T. Ricky? No. Ramona... okay, yeah, I could see that. It might be Ramona. And now the last name... Sampson? No. St... Ste... I have no idea! I just can't read this writing. I'm gonna make the best educated guess I can.
"Ramona Stetson?"
"No," Doctor said calmly. "It's Rinkley Stotzen."
Patient looked at Doctor.
Doctor smiled.
Patient beat the shit out of Doctor.
"What the fuck kind of test is this, you fuck?!"
Doctor tried to shield his head from the vigorous beating he was getting. "It's to show you what's possible! You didn't know that name existed mere moments ago! Now you know that name exists! What new things will exist in the next few moments for you that you never knew existed before?? The world has more possibilities than you can even imagine!"
Patient lifted the exam table over his head and knocked Doctor unconscious with it. It was a sturdy table. Made from, I dunno, hard wood. Or really, really hard granite.
Doctor lay on the floor.
"That's a dumb test," Patient said to Doctor's motionless body. "You're a dumb test."
And with that, Patient walked out of the room, down to the corner deli, and ate a sandwich, pissed. It was, you know, something common. Like pastrami, or something you eat when you're pissed at a deli.
And as Doctor's warm, red blood slowly oozed onto the floor, he dreamed of the brand new, exciting world of possibility that was now open to Patient because of Doctor's experiment.
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