I suspect fowl play...

A woman returns to her home to find a near perfect imprint of an owl on her window.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-cumbria-14111152

Happy Birthday Neptune!

Normally, Pluto gets all of the attention and it's not even a planet! Well not today! Neptune has just completed its first orbit around the sun since its discovery in 1846. One Neptunian year is equivalent to approximately 165.5 earth years.

source

Coolest Seashell/Rock Collection Ever...?

Not a collection of coral, but grains of sand magnified 250 times their true size.

source

Random Cell Phone Pictures: These aren't the droids we're looking for....

The Art of Observation

"From a drop of water," said the writer, "a logician could infer the possibility of an Atlantic or a Niagara without having seen or heard of one or the other. So all life is a great chain, the nature of which is known whenever we are shown a single link of it. Like all other arts, the Science of Deduction and Analysis is one which can only be acquired by long and patient study nor is life long enough to allow any mortal to attain the highest possible perfection in it. Before turning to those moral and mental aspects of the matter which present the greatest difficulties, let the enquirer begin by mastering more elementary problems. Let him, on meeting a fellow-mortal, learn at a glance to distinguish the history of the man, and the trade or profession to which he belongs. Puerile as such an exercise may seem, it sharpens the faculties of observation, and teaches one where to look and what to look for. By a man's finger nails, by his coat-sleeve, by his boot, by his trouser knees, by the callosities of his forefinger and thumb, by his expression, by his shirt cuffs -- by each of these things a man's calling is plainly revealed. That all united should fail to enlighten the competent enquirer in any case is almost inconceivable."

-Sir Doyle

Milk Cookies and Pixies

Foolishly, the young and now slightly bruised boy thought he could make his way through the house by memory alone. Somewhere along the line his memory had failed him, and his left elbow had paid the price. This was of little concern, if in the morning it was still raw mother would gingerly apply a Band-Aid and all would be well.  In the meantime however, there were more pressing matters at hand. The most concerning of which being this tooth fairy business; the other children at Mansfield’s school for boys might buy into this nonsense, but Peter knew better. Of all the stories that adults had told, the tooth fairy was the hardest to swallow. A pixie that trades in international currency to satisfy her unquenchable thirst for the teeth of small children? Not only was this story utterly ridiculous, it was told differently to each child whom Peter had questioned on the subject. Edmond for instance, claimed that the tooth fairy left a one pound note for each tooth she took, but Peter had been told she left fifty pence in place of her stolen treasures. This and many other inconsistencies led Peter to the conclusion that definite action must be taken to find out who or what was behind the web of deception. Thus Peter had hatched a plan; he had attached a bell to his tooth with a string, and hidden the bell a little further under the pillow. This was done so that the culprit would strike without fear of being detected, only to have the bell ring just as he or she pulled the tooth from under the pillow. When this happened Peter would spring from his sleep and finally get to the bottom of this mystery. In celebration of his grand scheme, Peter decided to go downstairs and have a glass of milk and a chocolate chip cookie or two. Foolishly, the young and now slightly bruised boy though he could make his way through the house by memory alone.

Tragedy at the Lincoln Street Hotel: The Red Cup Rager

It was 4:00 A.M. by the time I got to the Lincoln Street Hotel. Fancy cars filled the parking lot. A beautiful fountain with colorful lights complimented the flashing hues emitted from the top of cop cars, yet the ornate architecture was almost mocking the dismal scene. These kids were having a real rager. Apparently some party-goer either jumped or was thrown from the fourth floor; my job was to figure out which one it was. I didn’t really want to see what was left of the kid, but they wouldn’t call it work if it was easy. Talk about a mess. What can you really learn by looking at the smashed body of drunken party boy? Usually in the homicide/suicide question, you’re looking for evidence of struggle, but how can you pin anything on a shattered skull lying in a pool of blood. This is why beer and balconies are a bad mix. Ok, let’s see what we’ve got upstairs. What was I looking for, smashed-face’s suicide note? Ha, he was smashed before he even knew the room had a balcony. This guy was probably so drunk that he couldn’t even hold a pen, much less put a sentence together. So, what do I just find his mother and say “hey, Johnny got a little drunk and had an accident, sorry.” That would sure be easier than trying to sort out this jumbled mass of foggy intoxication. Inebriated women with runny mascara lined the hallway. The boys in blue were still hauling out passed out bros. One of these tank-top twits might be a murderer. Maybe Johnny kissed the wrong Suzy before Billy was too wasted to notice, but something tells me that by the time Johnny was attempting flight there wasn’t a Billy in the room who could walk ten feet, much less throw someone over a balcony. These kids were doing more than boozing here. I waded through the red cups, vomit, and glass bottles onto the balcony. I looked over the rail right above where the kid splattered. There I was where Johnny was standing four floors and several beers ago. Behold America’s wasted youth.

Sliced Bread on Facebook!

Now you can like Sliced Bread on the Facebook!

Music Snobs #3: Back Off!

Music snobs for a long time have hunted down and tried to eradicate the two note chord. Formally known as the power chord this tonic and dominant combination has become the outcast of music snobs and haters throughout the centuries. The emotional context and lack of complication has made this chord a pest in the eyes of the "mature musician". In reality, the power chord is just completely misunderstood. It never intended to be colorful or complex. It never promised harmonic diversity, but it does provide the back bone of almost all modern music. Parallel fifths are a joy to the dramatic angst filled teenager as he plucks out a simple melody to chronicle the sorrows of the world.

The power chord is raw and immature. It carries with it the power to sway the masses and bring cultural revolution. Although it may be harmonically boring the power chord has the ability to contain as much emotional content as the performer can muster. The power chord can be played by even the most minimally proficient guitarist. This opens the opportunity for anyone that ever wanted to express themselves musically a convenient outlet.

The bottom line is that music is just a collection of frequencies and rhythms that are played together in order to evoke an emotional response. With this in mind, music can be simple and still be highly effective. So go ahead and be freed from the criticism of the music snobs. Write a song, brighten someones day, or chronicle the depressing state of your pathetic love life. It's your thing... do what you want to do.

The Marvels of Wikipedia... Or maybe just your entertainment for the next 15 minutes.

If you click on the first link that is not in italics or parentheses of any article in Wikipedia and repeat on subsequent passages, you will without fail end up on the piece regarding Philosophy.

Don't believe me?

doorknob: 22 clicks

Spongebob Squarepants: 14 clicks

earthworm: 21 clicks

Lady Gaga: 19 clicks

quadrumvirs: 15 clicks

Please attempt yourself and reply in the comments with your root subject and how many clicks! Can't think of something outlandish to test? Use the random article feature!

p.s.

quadrumvirs were "a group of four leader that led Benito Mussolini's March on Rome in October 1922."

Source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Quadrumvirs

The boy who wore a dress to the zoo

As a child, I feared not the boogeyman, nor the dark, for me they were easily conquered. No, for me true fear struck in the form of road trips. There was little I feared more than getting in and staying in that mobile, stuffy, and often crowded closet for more than short amounts of time. This fear was only multiplied by my generally negative disposition and tendency to get motion sick extremely easily. These terrible ingredients stirred and boiled at the proper temperature for the correct amount of time produce a porridge Goldilocks wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole. This is not to say I didn’t suffer through a road trip here and there for a trip to the Nashville zoo or Atlanta Aquarium.

One such trip to the Birmingham zoo started innocently enough; there was a shortage of children attending this trip, affording us the opportunity to fold down the middle seat of the shiny silver minivan to stage elaborate battles for the freedom of the Green Army. Ever the underdog, always horribly outnumbered, yet still undefeated in battle, the Green Army put on show after show of determination and grit in the face of the tyranny posed by the Tan menace. The terrible Tan army, scorned by all good, truth-loving communist-hating American boys, were dealt horrific defeat after horrific defeat by the Green Army. These bloody skirmishes entertained me just fine for the better part of the trip, my mind too occupied with the lives I held in my hand to think about the potential throw-up I held in my stomach.

As we drew nearer to our destination though, my eyes were called into service to search for the exit sign. It started as a mere slight churning, but soon I was asking if we could pull over. Then begging. My cries, however, fell on deaf ears as I was informed that “We’re almost there, you’ll be fine for a few more minutes!” The minutes felt like hours as we drew closer and closer to the zoo, where I would be granted sweet relief from my pain.

We had finally crested the final hill and pulled into the parking lot when suddenly I could no longer hold it. Within moments I was not only drenched in a mixture of what used to be 6 chicken Mc-nuggets and a medium sprite (supposedly good for upset stomachs), but so was the entire seat in front of me. After a few moments of horrified staring followed by frenzied crying, we decided that the best course of action was to send one or more members of our group into the gift shop to explore the possibility of purchasing new clothes for me so that our journey could continue.

“Pardon me sir, do you sell clothing here, pants and shirts?” my faithful friend Steven asked the clerk. “Well, no pants, but we do have a line of zoo Birmingham zoo themed t-shirts over there. What size were you looking for?” the clerk answered. “No pants? We’ll have one extra-large, sir.”

"I'm just not sure this long distance relationship is going to work..."

F. Y. I.

Candid Cell Phone Pictures: I feel uplifted already!

Wonder Bread Sessions with Steve

Mona Lisa Pales

The Sun Maid girl is a babe. For reals, this chick has moves. It's not just her perfect complexion, rosy cheeks, brilliant brown eyes, and thick brown locks that make her so attractive; nor is it her soft smile and the gentleness in her eyes. Don’t get me wrong, all the afore mentioned traits are absolutely part of what makes her such a fox, but what really gives her swag is found in her title. She is the sun maid. Adding to her simple gorgeousness is the fact that this girl has been laboring in the sun all day and still has that kind smile. That’s flat out hot. She’s been picking grapes all day, the sun is setting, and she’s still beaming. She’s happy to toil beneath the oppressive rays of the relentless sun. A lesser woman would use her beauty to shirk manual labor, and manipulate her way into a life of ease. Not this girl, no way. She’s no sellout. She’s not looking to depend on anyone, but she’s not so proud that she won’t work in a field. She’s content to do menial work, but why? Does she have infirmed parents to provide for? Were her husband and father-in-law killed defending their homeland, and she’s chosen to loyally support her mother-in-law and follow her back to her homeland, so she works the only job a foreign woman can find? Is her name Ruth? Could be… The point is, she is obviously noble. And pretty. So, to recap, the Sun Maid girl is basically the girl of my dreams. Curse fiction.

A low class review of a high class establishment

Kickin' it old school

The problem with restaurant reviews is that they’re typically of ultra-ritzy bite sized portion type places. The kinds of places that if you’re rich enough to eat at, you’re likely busy enough to not waste time reading reviews anyways. So I propose bringing said reviews down to earth, way down.

Atmosphere, 6 of 10.

The addition of two big screen TV’s has really done wonders for an otherwise drab atmosphere. The only real issue with them is that they only play the Taco Bell channel, throwing a little ESPN on once in a while wouldn’t kill anyone. I would suggest using the drive through as it will improve the atmosphere considerably.

Service, 4 of 10.

Should I ever meet a Taco Bell employee who’s brain didn’t turn off the second I attempted to change my order in any way, I may marry them on the spot. The service was however redeemed when the cashier complimented me on my sweet airplane shirt. One thing to note about the previously mentioned drive through option is, while it may be more pleasant, will almost certainly result in a botched order.

Food, 5 of 10.

The food was edible, but the fire sauce, the hottest sauce available, hardly packs the punch its name might suggest. The rest of the menu on the other hand packs more punch then you might think; sadly it’s more of a kidney shot that has you doubling over in pain than a delicious knuckle burrito.

Overall impression, 5 of 10.

The food was tolerable, the service was average, and the atmosphere was enjoyable. Not exactly enough to solidify itself as a mainstay on my fine dining list, but I’ll definitely keep it open as a place for a romantic first date, when I’m trying to avoid a second one.

-Stever

Jokester of The Forrest Foliage

Didelphimorphia have the weirdest sense of humor. I would bet they are the most sarcastic rodents in the animal kingdom. These small to medium-sized marsupials are truly the jokesters of the forrest foliage. Many years ago, while travelling in the Ozark Mountains, I encountered my first Didelphimorphia comedian. His name was Casper. His white and black little body would twitch and shake when he laughed, and he always carried a ambiguous grin on his pointed face. We would walk down to the local watering hole and let me tell you, Casper had jokes. He would have four or five of us rolling with laughter all night. Get a few beers in the little guy and he was untouchable. He would hang from the rafters and chatter like and ape and then drop down on unsuspecting customers and scare the cotton off their backs.

He would work his jokes up to a climax each night, and if Casper got really worked into a frenzy he would passout like he had a heart attack or something. This joke was his Magnum opus of sorts, and he would use it to get a rise out of the locals. Apparently, Casper was on the run and laying low. Had a few warrants out for his arrest, mostly for failing to pay child support on his 127 children. He had already served a few weeks time for it and never wanted to go back into captivity. One fateful night Casper came into the bar with a new lady friend. He was greeted by an angry mob of marsupial mothers demanding he stop his drunken life style and look after his children. "My life is far too short to deal with any of yal" he yelled in a high squeaky voice. Then all of a sudden he dropped dead on the spot. We waited, because everyone in that tiny bar was sure he was faking again. After five minutes of awkward silence I knelt down to check his pulse. He really was dead. He had lived only 3 short years, and his last joke was on all of us.

-Stevie

People of Public Transit: The nicest homeless man you'll ever meet

Mack traveled the world as a navy signalman, and regrets leaving the navy as it would have provided him with a better retirement. 

Mack was also by far the nicest person I've met on the suntran thus far, and was very interested in my photography project. I very nearly missed my stop due to his friendly banter.

A little bit of outer space photography for a Thursday night...

The Nile River Delta at night

Top News: Lettuce Production Exceeds Human Population

A recent report from the International Lettuce Growers Association (ILGA) shows that lettuce production last year exceeded 6.5 billion heads. ILGA spokesperson Ron Duckland says that the number would likely exceed 8 billion heads if the number included indigenous plants, private gardens, and discarded low-quality lettuce not reported to the ILGA.

Duckland reports that the demand for lettuce is at an all-time high. Susan Green, who owns a small deli in New York, says that her top-selling item is salad. Green attributes salad sales to America's healthy-eating craze. "Americans are tired of being fat, so their eating salad," says Green. The restaurant owner also confessed that, with the rising cost of meat, she stuffs her sandwiches full of lettuce to try to give her patrons a large sandwich at a low price.

Alejandro Gonzales, owner of a Mexican restaurant, says he goes through three-hundred to five-hundred heads of lettuce a day, but he can remember the last time he had five-hundred customers in one day. Gonzales says most of the lettuce he puts on any given dish, will come back to the kitchen to be discarded by the dishwasher. Despite the incredible amount of wasted lettuce, Gonzales says he "can't help but feel every plate needs some lettuce on it."

Duckland and the ILGA say they are pleased with last years reports, but they are not yet satisfied. ILGA Director, Carl Fitzpatrick, is encouraging growers to produce even more lettuce, and continue to push sales.

When asked about Fitzpatrick's directive, Duckland said "We won't be satisfied until lettuce heads, in terms of annual production, doubles human heads, in terms of total population."

-Steve

If your into art and all that stuff...

Found a pretty awesome artist whilst stumbling through the inter-webs recently, definitely worth checking out.


http://www.topdesignmag.com/interesting-satiric-artworks-made-by-pawel-kuczynski/

If you're famous you can't let all your stuff be found until you die.

Come out! Come out! Creatures large and small.
Calling all grox, grotz, gussets and galls.
I want sneedles, sneetches and the sala-ma goox
Come out, for I, Steve, have a message for you.

Dr. Charles Cohen, a Massachusetts dentist,
a Seussologist, and a cavity menace,
earlier today has brought to my attention,
 there are stories missing from every Seuss collection.

"Gasp!" "What?" screeched the animals in a unisoned call.
 Don't worry my friends, communist radio reports they will be published this fall.
http://www.npr.org/2011/04/13/135378436/the-bippolo-seed-the-lost-dr-seuss-stories

-Steve

As our masked heroes have proven, it is only the skin directly surrounding the eyes that make a person identifiable.

Proceed with caution, fellow haters.

A serious problem I’ve found with hating something or someone is you often become what you hate; or something much worse. This thought first came to me during the peak of Twilight's popularity, when rabid Twilight fans roamed the streets informing anyone who would listen (and those who wouldn’t) that they really enjoyed half naked vampires over half naked werewolves. This of course was extremely frustrating to those of us who didn't really care, (pretty much everyone). This resulted in an ever growing amount of anti-Twilight sentiment, which wasn't so bad at first. Eventually though, the most vehement among them began to drown out even the most fanatical of tween girls. There are only so many times someone can hear the phrase "Twilight is so freaking gay!" before they start to think even the disturbingly detailed descriptions of Taylor Lautner's washboard abs would have been preferable. Now, Twilight is only one example, but this can apply to haterism across the board. More and more I find that haters are often more annoying than the annoyance that caused their hate. So fellow haters, please heed my words and proceed with caution.

Hilter's Poem

The world is mine!

The world is mine!

My grand scheme so very fine.

I stuck at Poland like a viper, a snake,

Soon all of Europe would be mine to take!

Next came smaller countries one by one,

Then France, England, Russia!  were coming undone.

Did the world really think the first German defeat?

Would keep us again from rising to our feet?

We had merely been bruised, a small set back

But I knew how to put us again on track

I knew who it was, who deserved all the blame,

I knew how to spread my political fame.

I knew how to bring us all under one roof

I knew how to build an army of youth!

Italy had been shrewd, Italy had been wise,

For long ago Mussolini had joined my side.

My obligation to China soon fell apart,

Now an alliance with Japan, my plan from the start.

Now all the world, I was ready to face,

As I watched all the pieces, fall into place. 

Oh but toil, it was all for naught,

For even in my own ranks my life was sought.

Then on beaches with sandy sands,

Came the accursed army of the Americans.

For Japan, being so proud, so defiant,

Had woken and challenged the sleeping giant.

His advances, have caused my retreat, 

His victory, has marked my defeat.

The world was mine.

The would was mine.

My grand scheme failed with time.

It is said that Hitler wrote this poem at a

somewhat depressing time in his life. We cannot

be sure but experts estimate that is was

probably written between who knows when

and some other time.

People of Puplic Transit: Jeff. A little nostalgia on Thursday.

"When I went to school, that's when this country meant something, music was better and people were respectful." Jeff graduated from Pueblo high school in 1991.

I've heard that one before.

Thinking and Greatness

We've all heard the saying that great minds think alike, but do they really?

Let’s assume, for a moment, that every mind could be categorized in one of these three groups: simple, good, or great.
Now, let’s describe each of these categories, starting with good minds. Good minds have a homogenous definition of logic and esteem said logic highly enough that it guides their thinking and practices on an everyday basis. It would not be a huge leap to believe that two minds operating on conventional logic would often reach similar conclusions. We can extrapolate from this assumption that good minds think alike. Touché, good minds think alike; but great minds?
Before we get to great minds, let’s look at simple minds, just to be clear.

Simple minds would probably give logic little authority in their decision making and would be reduced to animal-like instincts: rage, passion, lust, hedonism, instant gratification, etc... In this sense the simple mind is as predictable as a domesticated-animal. We can learn what instincts an animal has and thereby predict what they would do in given circumstances. No matter how many times you throw the cat off the bed, it keeps running back because it has no device for evaluating its choices, it just does whatever its little feline instincts command. Every simple mind is governed by the appetites and desires common to human nature. We are rarely surprised to hear what some idiot did when we read about it in the newspaper, because we know they all think alike, as long as not thinking at all count as thinking alike. So, recap: good minds think alike and simple minds, all alike, do not think.
Now we build to a crescendo as we discuss great minds. Great minds do not ignore conventional logic, nor do they adhere to it. They transcend conventional thinking. They are the originals. The ones who think of things no one ever quite thought of before, and/or in ways others never thought. We remember people like Shakespeare, da Vinci, Newton, Plato, Vygotsky, and Einstein and put them in a class of their own because they were unique. They thought of something new, therefore we deem their minds great. If necessity is the mother of invention, then brilliance is the father. Great minds make it happen; they change the world.
So, out of our three categories, it is actually only great minds that DO NOT think alike. So, the next time you’re making plans for lunch and you say “I was thinking Quiznos,” and your friend, with wide eyes, pulls their hands to their open mouth, and exclaims “ME TOO!” –go ahead and let out an excited “great minds think alike!” and laugh about it, then go crazy with your Pesto Turkey Toasty Torpedo, but when the indigestion settles and you find yourself alone again, be sure to reflect on whether you have actually done anything brilliant lately, and use your great mind to hatch an original idea that will be useful.

-Stevie

A Few Reasons You should be Fat if You Love God and America

1. Is credit card debt bumming you out? You’re not alone. 10 out of 9 Americans are so deep in the hole they can almost see China. It’s unfortunate that so many of us don’t a clue how to make good financial decisions. Fortunately, our local fast food guy’s put their heads together and found a way to help us out. Super-sized combo meals for only 20 cents more. That’s a lot of food for just a little money. If every American pledged to eat nothing but super-sized combo meals every day for a year, think of how much money we’d save. That is money that could pay our bills off. Or cover an extra sundae or two.


2. Global warming. That’s another thing to worry about. And if you don’t buy into the Global Warming scare then maybe you should worry about Global Cooling. But if you’re fat, you can rest easy. No matter the crisis, you’re going to be safe. Your fat will give you buoyancy which will enable you to float when the ice caps melt due to a rise in the earth’s temperature. Your fat will also act as an insulator and keep you from freezing to death should we enter into another ice age. I promise you, if you’re fat, you are totally safe in any climate.


3. Earthquakes are serious business. They leave a big huge mess everywhere they go. And there is hardly any way to prevent an earthquake. Until now! Scientists believe that as Americans get larger, the risk of us catching one goes down. Simply, our massive weight will hold the country firmly in place if mother-nature tried to throw an earthquake at us, causing minimal damage.


4. Finally, as your mother accurately told you when you were growing up, there are starving kids in Africa. So I urge you, please eat an extra plate or two for their sake. It’s the least you could do.

Candid Cell Phone Pictures: A Man and His Harp

People of Public Transit: Dennis

"Tell them I'm a part of the hippy and lippy group, tell them that, tell them I'm a part of the hippy and lippy group"

Dennis is a 60 something year old Vietnam vet, he told so many stories in such rapid succession that I forgot almost every single one of them.

Beware of V-Necks

Beware of V-neck tee shirts! Yeah, I said it, V-necks make you suspect. You may ask: "what's so bad about a different collar on my tee shirt." The answer is complicated. So.. first we must examine the usual suspects: Bros, Hipsters, and little Asian break dancers. The v-neck has a specific function for each one of these fashion conscious elitist.

Suspect #1 The Bro: Right when he walks in the room the first thought that creeps into your mind is: "look at this tool!" For the bro, a v-neck provides the opportunity to show his carefully crafted and waxed "man cleavage." He can be very confident that his ability to lift heavy things repeatedly will not go unnoticed. The v-neck gives his body the ability to speak volumes without having to open his primary alcohol receptacle.

Suspect #2 The Hipster: For the hipster a solid pair of tight jeans and a v-neck are part of the required uniform that they agreed to wear when they signed the contract that allows them to be presumptuous haters of everything popular. It also lets a hipster show off his "ironic" man carpet. Its as if the closer you are to looking like a bear the more hip you become. Give a hipster a hairy plunging neck line, a creeper stash, an iphone, and a fixed gear bike and he will become immortalized. His name will be spoken in hushed tones all over the kingdom of haters and Pabst drinkers.

Suspect #3 The Little Asian Break Dancer: I swear there must be a height requirement to be in one of these dance crews. Now if the hipsters were searching for an ironic way to dress they should take some notes from these guys. The LABD meshes a bizarre mix of hip-hop culture and spoiled prep school boy into a symphony of fashion worthy of John Cage's approval. The v-neck is just like a modern day adaptation of a karategi. It allows these little guys to spin and twirl like the modern day Ninjas they are.

The bottom line is: a normal cotton tee with a normal collar just isn't good enough! This makes everyone that wears a v-neck an elitist. We all know that everyone hates an elitist. So v-neck wearers don't act like you were never warned. When a freak gardening accident takes the life of your house pets it is just the cosmos adjusting your karma for being such a arrogant bat weed.

-STeVE

Dayglow paint meets animal cruelty....

Moon's Over My Hammy

But for a Moment

"A principle is the expression of perfection, and as imperfect beings like us cannot practice perfection, we devise every moment limits of its compromise in practice." 
-Mohandas Gandhi


Our principles are a description of who we want to be. Our actions, however, describe who we are. Or do they? Believing I should treat others with kindness does not make me kind. Only by practicing kindness can I be kind. Every act of kindness that I exhibit pushes back the threshold of compromise to some degree, but unkind actions have an even greater affect on that threshold. When it comes to principle, there is nothing more damaging than hypocrisy. The word hypocrisy comes from two Latin words: hypo- "beneath" and krinein- "crisis." Essentially, it means a crisis within. The word is used to describe the phenomenon we witness when one's actions conflict what they believe. This word actually gives the benefit of the doubt to whoever bears its namesake. We usually call it hypocrisy when someone does not "practice what they preach," but the word implies more than disagreement between speech and action. It actually implies disagreement between belief and action. When we see incongruence between thought and action, we say "oh, they must not really believe in what they said." We are generally disappointed if not appalled to witness the disparity between word and deed, but what is even more astounding is the assumption that someone can actually believe in a principle, yet fail to practice it. Calling someone a hypocrite, it turns out, is more like calling them a schizophrenic than a liar. It is an incredible attribute humans have called "imperfection." The monitor doesn't always show what the computer is doing. Should we therefore conclude that principle is meaningless? I say not, because "we devise every moment limits of its compromise..." How? "In practice." Every time that we make a decision that aligns with our principles, we defy imperfection. Can we be perfect for a moment? Absolutely. Even if those moments are rare, they are the worth-while fruit of principle. Know what you believe, and practice it as often as you can.


-SteVe

Aliens Made Me Cut Off My Ear

I love being passionate. I’m not talking about some hyper-sensual emotion or action. For me passion is the manifestation of a singular purpose and goal that drives me to take action. Once my responsibilities have been fulfilled my passion is the only thing I think about.  These passions are random whimsical actions that I have a hard time explaining but dominate my mind. I frequently will lie awake in bed for hours looking up at the ceiling and think about my project, idea, or goal. When pursuing a passion my priorities become easier to fulfill and I am able to prioritize my time to accommodate the extra time needed to pursue what I love. It seems like I become much more effective, in every area of my life, when I have a goal that I am happily pursuing. Everyone has a list of priorities they need to fulfill. Things like: school, work, homework, sleep, etc. All fall under the category of priority. I envy the people that are passionate about their priorities. My brother is one of those people. He gets excited about mastering the concepts involved in his homework. I on the other hand, am happy if I understand the concepts involved in my homework.


-sTeVE

........

Breath in and then out. Repeat as needed.

WOle GraiN BreAD

As we live our lives the “norm” haunts everything we do. We generalize, assume and reach conclusions based on a set paradigm. Most people, including myself, live a life of foolish consistency in which we generally follow the path of least resistance. Ralph Waldo Emerson writes: “A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds, adored by little statesmen and philosophers and divines.” Consistency fosters comfort. Men are drawn, like water, to the path of least resistance. Once a man has found a comfortable method of living; he will live in this path until an easier one is presented to him. We refuse to branch out of our comfort zone that is the established “norm”, and we judge every situation with a set of predetermined variables that force the same conclusions. When we feel an emotion we check the variables that contribute to these feelings and then draw a conclusion. If we always consider the same variables we limit our conclusions. An effective experiment limits variables to help draw a single conclusion. But living is very different than experimenting. You can never consider or limit all the variables in a fleeting real life situation. The event is constantly happening and only by limiting the variables that you want to consider do we interpret the events around us. When you are forced to consider a different set of variables you can then possibly arrive at a completely different conclusion. As one of my close friends incessantly says; “When you change the way you look at things, the things you look at change.” If you like living a comfortable normal and boring life then…..

*Listen to a story my friend about a boy named Ben.

Ben was the coolest kids in school. He had many a friend.

Khaki pants and a pocket shirt, he was always setting the trend.

But Ben was always wishing that he didn’t have to pretend…

That life is…. something he had…. figured out today,

And that…. he had an answer… yes an answer left to say.

Ben walked to the end of the sidewalk one fateful day.

He saw the hurts and longings of everyman on his way.

Black haze and a broken heart, he tried to look away.

But Ben knew that most men tried to ignore the decay….

Of life… and the problems…the problems he saw that day.

Ben knew….there was only….one man that could suspend his dismay.*

-STeVe