Saturday, November 6, 2010
this made me cry...
This appeared in the Saturday, November 6, 2010, Boston
Globe in the QUOTES OF NOTE section:
"I've realized that love is the most complex
sensation in the world, partly because it's a
mix of everything there is to feel. Finding a
definition for it could take a lifetime, and in
the end it's still only a theory."
From a poem written by 17-year old
Arlington resident GRACIE JAMES,
who was killed last month in an SUV
rollover accident in Utah.
I couldn't help myself, and just started crying trying to
imagine the loss of this life to her family and the world.
Globe in the QUOTES OF NOTE section:
"I've realized that love is the most complex
sensation in the world, partly because it's a
mix of everything there is to feel. Finding a
definition for it could take a lifetime, and in
the end it's still only a theory."
From a poem written by 17-year old
Arlington resident GRACIE JAMES,
who was killed last month in an SUV
rollover accident in Utah.
I couldn't help myself, and just started crying trying to
imagine the loss of this life to her family and the world.
Saturday, December 12, 2009
Ray Solomonoff
Grace called me yesterday to say that Ray died on Monday, December 7, 2009.
Here are photos and video from an event celebrating and remembering the life of Ray:
http://flickr.com/photos/rlg/tags/rays/show
Here are photos and video from an event celebrating and remembering the life of Ray:
http://flickr.com/photos/rlg/tags/rays/show
Monday, October 26, 2009
The end of the world? - June 17, 2005
What would I do if the world were to end tomorrow, or next week, or after the playoffs?
The same thing I did on learning that the world was going to, was scheduled to, end yesterday. You can find somebody, somewhere, who says the world is going to end on any given day. But obviously, in spite of thousands of years of predictions with exact dates and circumstances... it, just as obviously, hasn't happened. And my bet is that it won't happen. On any given day the world just as obviously ends for lots of people via death in accidents, from old age, war, disease, etc. But the end of the world as in everybody going, uh-uh, ain't gonna happen. Its just wishful thinking on the part of depressed people without the energy to change their own personal circumstances, who then have fantasies about a catastrophic change that will force them, and everybody else, to change. There is often a religious tint to these desires, where the predictor imagines that evil is about to overwhelm the world and it is time for dog (sorry--I'm lisgexic), god, to change the whole kit and kaboodle. So I'm not going to do anything the next time somebody says the world is going to end. Chances are, just like every prediction in the past, they will be wrong.
Does the Bible Predict the End of the World?
How Jehova's Witnesses have been predicting the "end of the world" for over 100 years.
Apocalipse now? 30 days when the world didn't end.
The same thing I did on learning that the world was going to, was scheduled to, end yesterday. You can find somebody, somewhere, who says the world is going to end on any given day. But obviously, in spite of thousands of years of predictions with exact dates and circumstances... it, just as obviously, hasn't happened. And my bet is that it won't happen. On any given day the world just as obviously ends for lots of people via death in accidents, from old age, war, disease, etc. But the end of the world as in everybody going, uh-uh, ain't gonna happen. Its just wishful thinking on the part of depressed people without the energy to change their own personal circumstances, who then have fantasies about a catastrophic change that will force them, and everybody else, to change. There is often a religious tint to these desires, where the predictor imagines that evil is about to overwhelm the world and it is time for dog (sorry--I'm lisgexic), god, to change the whole kit and kaboodle. So I'm not going to do anything the next time somebody says the world is going to end. Chances are, just like every prediction in the past, they will be wrong.
Does the Bible Predict the End of the World?
How Jehova's Witnesses have been predicting the "end of the world" for over 100 years.
Apocalipse now? 30 days when the world didn't end.
when your scanner goes KABLOOEY! - October 20, 2004
when you are scanning leaves and your scanner goes...
KABLOOEY!!!
More screwy scans can be found here: http://flickr.com/photos/rlg/search/tags:scans
Here's samples of scanned leaves (click a leaf to see a life-sized version)...
More scanned leaves can be found here: http://flickr.com/photos/rlg/search/tags:leaf/?page=4
Saturday, October 24, 2009
The Phone rang a bit before 1am - June 20, 2003
Take a look out your front window, she said. And outside, directly in front of the building, her silver car, looking pregnant (the car), compared to the previous model. But not her. She is all hot flesh, tight fitting clothes and enticing breasts covered by more restraining, but at the same time, uplifting and enhancing materials. OH! Yet another miracle of modern science and technology!
Anyway, there she sat, but me in my bare feet, and the dog, behind me on the sidewalk. The parking permit is in my hands, but she doesn't go for it. Her desire is to be elsewhere on this warm summer evening after an earlier evening of experiencing the results of having men exposed to the estrogen cloud the wafts around her oh-so-very-fine figure and electric, vibrating, hunting-for-something figure.
But I digress. She wants something. The plan is to stop by this place, ring the bell, and see if entrance, so to speak, is possible. Will another woman be there, if not, will he be receptive? That's the question for all of us and the ages. Will the person we want have us? Will they embrace us completely, totally, without reservation? She wants that too--but, as she knows, she holds back, waiting for the object of desire to be vulnerable and accepting and wanting--while she avoids those things until she knows the other will give her those things. Then she will, maybe, become vulnerable, accepting, wanting, towards him. But really, not until he demonstrates himself capable of doing those things. And so it goes. The wait for the other to step forward with an offer of unconditional love, forever, always, in every way. Who in their right might would want to take that first step? But we all ask it of others.
Myself, being much too old for her, and over the hill besides, throw my usual caution to the wind and make numerous offers of myself that mostly get some good laughs from her. Well, being able to make a woman laugh is always a good sign, from my experience. For some unknown reason it seems I am this lovely woman's sweetie pie. Perhaps some day, in the far future, when all our DNA is online, and cross correlated, and calculated, it will be obvious what keeps this odd couple together. In the meantime there is no hesitation on my part to say any and every naughty thing that comes to mind and nether parts of the corpse. And, odd as it may seem, she gets a perverse, and even disgusting pleasure from words poured over her from this desirous mouth.
But enough of that. Her plan, with my guidance, is to show up at Clint's house, ring the bell, and see if she can get him to get in, so to speak. If another woman is there, then she will be cool and exit. If he sends her away, she will be cool and go. If he lets her up then she will eviscerate her pent up longings.
She goes. Upstairs with the two us. The phone rings a few minutes later. A call from Harvard Square. She can't bring herself to it. Turns around and heads home. Too late. Traffic. Other excuses. But she knows all that.
She now knows what good sex is. But she had to go to men with no soul that she could fall into. There was no well of life into which she could willingly, freely, fall, give herself, melt, disintegrate, evaporate, have the feeling that you have become... us, we. Only with these men could she give herself up. She knew there was no real chance, on her part, to have that feeling of merging. They didn't let her in and she didn't let them in.
Well, at least the sex was fun. It was good. But then it isn't everything. Not with me, of course. But then the imagination is such a wonderful pleasure.
And me? There's been a hankerin fer this gal for a long time. But what's and old guy, old enough to be her father, and actually older, not much money to speak of--certainly not enough to compensate for the age, who knows her tears and the storm clouds of trying to make a life with somebody who has a chance at economic success, a smidgen of a conscience when it comes close to trying something, and... there you have it. But she is very nice to look at, in any case. So I will keep looking and revealing all the lewd thoughts in my mind. Which she seems to like, by the way.
To be continued, most likely...
Anyway, there she sat, but me in my bare feet, and the dog, behind me on the sidewalk. The parking permit is in my hands, but she doesn't go for it. Her desire is to be elsewhere on this warm summer evening after an earlier evening of experiencing the results of having men exposed to the estrogen cloud the wafts around her oh-so-very-fine figure and electric, vibrating, hunting-for-something figure.
But I digress. She wants something. The plan is to stop by this place, ring the bell, and see if entrance, so to speak, is possible. Will another woman be there, if not, will he be receptive? That's the question for all of us and the ages. Will the person we want have us? Will they embrace us completely, totally, without reservation? She wants that too--but, as she knows, she holds back, waiting for the object of desire to be vulnerable and accepting and wanting--while she avoids those things until she knows the other will give her those things. Then she will, maybe, become vulnerable, accepting, wanting, towards him. But really, not until he demonstrates himself capable of doing those things. And so it goes. The wait for the other to step forward with an offer of unconditional love, forever, always, in every way. Who in their right might would want to take that first step? But we all ask it of others.
Myself, being much too old for her, and over the hill besides, throw my usual caution to the wind and make numerous offers of myself that mostly get some good laughs from her. Well, being able to make a woman laugh is always a good sign, from my experience. For some unknown reason it seems I am this lovely woman's sweetie pie. Perhaps some day, in the far future, when all our DNA is online, and cross correlated, and calculated, it will be obvious what keeps this odd couple together. In the meantime there is no hesitation on my part to say any and every naughty thing that comes to mind and nether parts of the corpse. And, odd as it may seem, she gets a perverse, and even disgusting pleasure from words poured over her from this desirous mouth.
But enough of that. Her plan, with my guidance, is to show up at Clint's house, ring the bell, and see if she can get him to get in, so to speak. If another woman is there, then she will be cool and exit. If he sends her away, she will be cool and go. If he lets her up then she will eviscerate her pent up longings.
She goes. Upstairs with the two us. The phone rings a few minutes later. A call from Harvard Square. She can't bring herself to it. Turns around and heads home. Too late. Traffic. Other excuses. But she knows all that.
She now knows what good sex is. But she had to go to men with no soul that she could fall into. There was no well of life into which she could willingly, freely, fall, give herself, melt, disintegrate, evaporate, have the feeling that you have become... us, we. Only with these men could she give herself up. She knew there was no real chance, on her part, to have that feeling of merging. They didn't let her in and she didn't let them in.
Well, at least the sex was fun. It was good. But then it isn't everything. Not with me, of course. But then the imagination is such a wonderful pleasure.
And me? There's been a hankerin fer this gal for a long time. But what's and old guy, old enough to be her father, and actually older, not much money to speak of--certainly not enough to compensate for the age, who knows her tears and the storm clouds of trying to make a life with somebody who has a chance at economic success, a smidgen of a conscience when it comes close to trying something, and... there you have it. But she is very nice to look at, in any case. So I will keep looking and revealing all the lewd thoughts in my mind. Which she seems to like, by the way.
To be continued, most likely...
RICHARD NIXON CAME TO MY BIRTHDAY PARTY - May 23, 2009
He even brought a present. Then the alarm clock rang and you all know what happens after that. Some of us turn it off and go back to sleep. Some of us turn it off and get up. Next thing you know the person writing this has clothes on and is putting cold coffee in the microwave (left by the MSSO). Others came to the party. A number of women who this writer imagines are sexually interested in him. Wishful thinking. That's a thought this writer has about many women. But that's only because sex is often on his mind. You are welcome to offer yourself, should you be a woman, in this manner.
Anyway, a call from my dad's stepson via his (my dad's) third wife. Doesn't that sound suspect already?
So they cut his dilantin back from 400 units to 300 units per day. That improved his state of... mind. How can you call a pharmeceutical company prop a state of mind? Ok, so he's still alive and in a state that appears to be a human being.
A woman is interested in becoming his fourth wife. She has been married four times already. A Southern Baptist--the kind who doesn't believe in divorce. She's not interested in sex. He is. She wants to live in her trailer in a small Tennessee town. He doesn't. She has a continuing ficuciary relationship with her fourth husband. His last wife is dead. The current woman of interest was a caretaker in his assisted living home. There's the money he has in the bank. There's his VERY good pension. So what does a person do? Ideas considered.
Anyway, a call from my dad's stepson via his (my dad's) third wife. Doesn't that sound suspect already?
So they cut his dilantin back from 400 units to 300 units per day. That improved his state of... mind. How can you call a pharmeceutical company prop a state of mind? Ok, so he's still alive and in a state that appears to be a human being.
A woman is interested in becoming his fourth wife. She has been married four times already. A Southern Baptist--the kind who doesn't believe in divorce. She's not interested in sex. He is. She wants to live in her trailer in a small Tennessee town. He doesn't. She has a continuing ficuciary relationship with her fourth husband. His last wife is dead. The current woman of interest was a caretaker in his assisted living home. There's the money he has in the bank. There's his VERY good pension. So what does a person do? Ideas considered.
Friday, October 23, 2009
Rush Limbaugh - May 19, 2003
Rush Limbaugh says Democrats are the party of racism. That implies that Republicans are the party of diversity and against racism. Imagine me sitting here pondering on his view of the world (assuming it has been accurately described for the moment).
A signal, an image hits my eye. It shows an average group of Democracts. More of them are minorities and women than a similar view of an average group of Republicans. That signal goes to MY brain and hits the Democract spot. In Rush's brain that same image seems to turn on the Republican switch. Not being a moralist about wiring, it would seem that the two of us are wired differently. In this case, exactly the opposite. There appears to be a lot of people wired like both of us. We look at the same scene and see very different things.
As someone who thinks himself to be a bit of an engineer and scientist, my AHA! light goes off and wonders if this way of seeing the world isn't genetic. Rush and I simply can't help but see the same scene in two different ways--because we are wired in two different ways. And if it is genetic, just how easy is it going to be to change any person's ideas about what they see right in front of their noses...
The political arena seems to be filled with scenes that are somehow seen as... something and the opposite of something. And how can I be sure of my own vision and explanation of what's going on if my own wiring inverts something right in front of my nose?
Anyway, what might change Rush's opinion, assuming for a moment, that he's the one who sees reality the opposite of my seeing? For this argument let's assume he makes $10,000,000 a year. If his audience disappeared there would be no advertising money to pay him. That money would disappear if his listeners could not buy those products. It would take a depression to do that. That is, the economic environment would have to nearly fail to put Rush out of business--or get him to reconsider his views. It took the Great Depression for voters to switch from Republicans to the Democrats. So let's get out there and cause a great depression! Just kidding.
Now, you are probably wondering, what would happen to me if I suddenly started making Rush's kind of money every year. Would I become a Republican? Sure, that could hapen. Wasn't it Cindy Lauper would said that money changes everything?
Its left as an exercise for the reader to perform the same neurological thought experiment on Rush's Democrats-are-the-crony-party view/wiring.
A signal, an image hits my eye. It shows an average group of Democracts. More of them are minorities and women than a similar view of an average group of Republicans. That signal goes to MY brain and hits the Democract spot. In Rush's brain that same image seems to turn on the Republican switch. Not being a moralist about wiring, it would seem that the two of us are wired differently. In this case, exactly the opposite. There appears to be a lot of people wired like both of us. We look at the same scene and see very different things.
As someone who thinks himself to be a bit of an engineer and scientist, my AHA! light goes off and wonders if this way of seeing the world isn't genetic. Rush and I simply can't help but see the same scene in two different ways--because we are wired in two different ways. And if it is genetic, just how easy is it going to be to change any person's ideas about what they see right in front of their noses...
The political arena seems to be filled with scenes that are somehow seen as... something and the opposite of something. And how can I be sure of my own vision and explanation of what's going on if my own wiring inverts something right in front of my nose?
Anyway, what might change Rush's opinion, assuming for a moment, that he's the one who sees reality the opposite of my seeing? For this argument let's assume he makes $10,000,000 a year. If his audience disappeared there would be no advertising money to pay him. That money would disappear if his listeners could not buy those products. It would take a depression to do that. That is, the economic environment would have to nearly fail to put Rush out of business--or get him to reconsider his views. It took the Great Depression for voters to switch from Republicans to the Democrats. So let's get out there and cause a great depression! Just kidding.
Now, you are probably wondering, what would happen to me if I suddenly started making Rush's kind of money every year. Would I become a Republican? Sure, that could hapen. Wasn't it Cindy Lauper would said that money changes everything?
Its left as an exercise for the reader to perform the same neurological thought experiment on Rush's Democrats-are-the-crony-party view/wiring.
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