Saga of the Fidget Spinner

spinners have reached the value of dragon treasure

I ordered mine for a couple of dollars on Amazon

deep blue plastic with weighted inserts of bronze

the great treasure took more than a moon to arrive

hour by hour

day by day

week by week

in the end a month of days

I am not a fan-boy, I am autistic, it is medicine

does it help, can it help, will it help

I spin it and and watch the speedy toy go round

the spinner has not been here long enough to know

hour by hour

day by day

week by week

the sooner I can say

Delta V of My Listening Experience

For years, I have happily listened to music and films with a pair of old Grado SR60s. I can listen no more. Several weeks ago, the cable on the 60s gave up the ghost.

I purchased new Grado SR125is for $150 on Amazon. Why the SR125s? I had some money and needed an upgrade. I cannot afford the SR325is or higher. That left the SR125is or the SR225is in the cost for capability sweet-spot. After exhaustive web research, I could not justify the additional cost of the SR225is.

I am aware that the Grado SR60s are repairable. Long term, I will see to them.
Today, I am just feeling happy-happy-joy-joy over the sound of my new cans.

New Year's Resolutions

I do not normally approve of New Year's resolutions, one should not save making changes to life to only one time of the year. Yet changes have occurred in the last several weeks and wish to address them.

I need to post here more often. I have much I wish to say and have said little. My Multiple Anxiety Disorder has always gotten the better of me. I woke a week ago to find I am in better control than I have been in a decade.

My other resolution, to not forget to take my meds.....

mater familias mortuus est

In the first week of February, my mother Patricia finally succumbed to the , Huntington's Disease; she had been fighting for more than a decade. In the end she was in a great deal of pain and simply wanted an end to her struggles.

My mother had always put great faith in her own humor. She saw it as her bounden duty to see herself and others through any of life's little mishaps with laughter.

I remember when I and my sister were children she had a rule that if we were to get into trouble and then make her laugh we would get out of it. She said if she laughed, it could not possibly be to bad.

I find myself with no one to babble at.

My Apologies

I have no nude selfies.

Another Rejection

Rejection, rejection number 999, who is the crappiest writer of all time?



Let give you a hint, his patronymic begins with G.

Postmodern Jukebox

Tesla, the Great Sandworm of Apple's Innovation Desert?

Reports began last week that Elon Musk spent a day meeting with Apple executives, and the interwebs went nuts.

Tesla!

Apple!

You have your Tesla in my Apple.

Get your iTesla off my Lawn!

My take is the sale does not seem likely. Unless Musk can get something major out of the deal. Remember Tesla was not started to sell cars, it was started to disrupt the status quo in the auto industry. A success, I would say.

Tesla is not Musk's baby, taking humanity to Mars is.

If Apple can offer a pile of money AND sign on as the the first corporate sponsor? Then it is a possibility.

Congratulations

I would like to congratulate Ensign Andrew Dahl and wish him luck on this new posting.

Dian Fossey

I would like to celebrate the birth of male, and some female, gorillas favourite pin-up girl, Dian Fossey.

An Intervention...

Since hearing the news, yesterday, I have been near inconsolable. The news was reporting that The Powerpuff Girls are returning to the Cartoon Network on or about 20th of January 2014.

So close to my birthday, it must be a sign from the Universe that I am special.

Chosen.

What am I to to?  I no longer have any friends with little girls to conveniently blame, when asked why the girly show was on.

I answer it was the girls and I was too busy with my fantasy football league and HALO to change the channel. My remarks always elicited a round of high fives.
 
I remember, when my addiction began to interfere with my life. I remember as if it was only yesterday. It was winter and I was taking entry level bioanthropology class my professor was distributing graded exams, the non human primates.

I did not get mine.

My professor called me aside and asked me to her office. She wanted to know what was my problem, I had answered all the questions with Mojo Jojo quotes.

I turned pale and panicked, I could not her the truth.

How could I? How could anyone?

I made up some spiel, something about being high on the bud during the test.

As a result of my fib, I was suspended from school and I went to jail for a few days.

Fibonacci Sequins? So, why does Ringo Starr get to be on The Powerpuff Girls?  He is nothing special, just rich, famous, and talented. That is it.

My greatest quandary: Buttercup is my favorite, but Bubbles wears blue.

They (not the voices) tell me to buck up and be a man. They (not THE voices, I tell you) tell me that the first step to  getting better is to admit I have a problem.

Perhaps, I am ready.

Hello my name is Christopher and I have been Bubbles, Blossom, and Buttercup free for 20 hours.

(It is a beginning)

Blizzard of '78

Following years of crappy, short-term employment, my father had at last been hired on to Caterpillar. In 1977 Peoria, Illinois, Cat was the sanctum sanctorum of employers. It was by far the largest employer in central Illinois. EVERYONE worked at Caterpillar or their family members worked there. All businesses were oriented to servicing Caterpillar's ravenous industrial hunger.

With the new job and an enormous boost in pay, my parents were finally able to save a little money to use as a down payment on a starter home. In a short time, they managed to scrape together enough to purchase, on a contract for deed, a tiny house on Krause Avenue. The very official deed, described the house as having two bedrooms. It did have two but only if you count the shoddily constructed one room addition, originally added as a mudroom, pantry, etc.

The room had a door so that was close enough to a bedroom.

Remember, this was before Reagen broke the unions and destroyed American industry, times were different. Small Midwestern cities and their discrete industries operated in a mutually beneficial symbiosis: John Deer, Oshkosh, International Harvester, Caterpillar, etc. No more unions and the relationship shifts from symbiosis to predatory.

Generations of Peorians had been employed at Caterpillar. Lifetime employment, graduate high school, get hired by Caterpillar, retire. Simple. My parents were certain that now they would have a permanent and regular income. They signed on the dotted line, happily. The house that was not exactly the nicest in the world, but, had some upgrade potential or that could, easily, be sold to some other smaller family. 

They signed on the dotted line for their cut of the American Dream©, get yours while supplies last only 42 payments of $19.99. And if you act now, you can super size your American Dream© for no additional charge!

What, I remember most is that I nearly died that night.

While, I would turn four in a few days, my sister was not yet even two. That night in January, I was asleep in my bed, my little sister was in her crib on the far side of the room. Earlier in the day, I had played in the snow and payed to no mind, it was only snow.

I woke to creaking that sounded like a woman screaming, so loud my ears hurt. It was the house tearing itself apart. Then came the explosion and not from RDX or gas, the snow had become so deep it had piled up to nearly 2 meters. Much snow had melted against the walls of the house. The water had gotten into and soaked the cheap 'wood' door and walls, and then refroze with predictable, if catastrophic results.

I made my way into the hall, where bits of door were still falling when the roof of your shared bedroom finally gave way. It whooshed like the house had been punched in the gut.

Before, I could even get my head around what had happened my parents were in the hall outside our room. By this point, I could hear my sister crying and my parents yelling. My father was investigating that horrible sound.


I house was continuing to moan and groan. It was becoming louder all the time. Small cracks and pops of a continuing process. An enormous noise, I do not mean some crack-pop of a pencil breaking but a noise so loud, it felt as if the very world had shattered asunder.

The door had shattered, the frame and and parts of the wall went as well.

There was no way out the back. The front of the house had been buried by the city tractors earlier in the evening. We could not get out of the house.

We are going to die.

After the failed attempt out the front, my father got on the phone, working, and called on of his friends to come over to assist. He had us climb out the crawlspace window, the one above the trashed room and four foot deep snow.

Joy.

I have never been able to remember exactly what happened next, but, I do know my sister and my mother went to the hospital. My sister was not exactly damaged but the obsessed nuns made her spend the night. While my parents stayed at the hospital, I was farmed out to my great-aunt. I was always happy to head to her house, it always smelled of her gingerbread men.

When we returned a week or so later, the parents investigating the damage They found house on Krause could not be repaired for any amount of money we could afford. In a show of absurd over-compensation, my parents went and rented over large house on Arago Street. The house felt so huge to a 4 year old, Tesla would have to install a Supercharger to power the trek from one side to the other.

The new place was not even two blocks away from the old. So close in point of fact, my electric toys had the range to travel on their own, if I had ever had any batteries.

Another Day, Another Form-letter II

Some days, I feel like the baboon at the zoo lobbing my carefully hoarded turds at the screaming children.

They just keep lobbing it back.

Hugos

aka, I hate John Scalzi.

I hate John Scalzi. I hate John Scalzi. I hate John Scalzi. I hate John Scalzi. I hate John Scalzi. I hate John Scalzi. I hate John Scalzi. I hate John Scalzi. I hate John Scalzi. I hate John Scalzi. I hate John Scalzi. I hate John Scalzi. I hate John Scalzi. I hate John Scalzi. I hate John Scalzi. I hate John Scalzi. I hate John Scalzi. I hate John Scalzi. I hate John Scalzi. I hate John Scalzi. I hate John Scalzi. I hate John Scalzi. I hate John Scalzi. I hate John Scalzi. I hate John Scalzi. I hate John Scalzi. I hate John Scalzi. I hate John Scalzi. I hate John Scalzi. I hate John Scalzi. I hate John Scalzi. I hate John Scalzi. I hate John Scalzi. I hate John Scalzi. I hate John Scalzi. I hate John Scalzi. I hate John Scalzi. I hate John Scalzi. I hate John Scalzi. I hate John Scalzi. I hate John Scalzi. I hate John Scalzi. I hate John Scalzi. I hate John Scalzi. I hate John Scalzi. I hate John Scalzi. I hate John Scalzi. I hate John Scalzi. I hate John Scalzi. I hate John Scalzi. I hate John Scalzi. I hate John Scalzi. I hate John Scalzi. I hate John Scalzi. I hate John Scalzi. I hate John Scalzi. I hate John Scalzi. I hate John Scalzi. I hate John Scalzi. I hate John Scalzi. I hate John Scalzi. I hate John Scalzi. I hate John Scalzi. I hate John Scalzi. I hate John Scalzi. I hate John Scalzi. I hate John Scalzi. I hate John Scalzi. I hate John Scalzi. I hate John Scalzi.

Quote

"Christopher Columbus, as everyone knows, is honored by posterity because he was the last to discover America."

by James Joyce, 1912

Snow. Really?

Not Mother Nature fault, the n00b Earth forgot to first install the correct repository first

sudo add-apt-repository ppa:mothernature/seasons

sudo apt-get update

sudo apt-get install spring

You Can't Take It With You

Recently, a most interesting medieval burial was unearthed in Edinburgh, Scotland. A male in an engraved stone casket. He was discovered on the location of a presumed Dominican monastery.

The casket lid had been engraved with a cross and a sword. Both appear to be by the same hand. The latter was crowded and crimped in its rendition as if it had been added later.

Now, I would like to make a WAG and shoot it up the old flagpole:)

Someone came to the monastery and died. They utilized an already existing decorated casket. By adding the sword they made it minimally appropriate for a noble or a solder.

Another Day, Another Form-letter

I just received another form-letter. I am annoyed.

I know that everyone starting out at any profession can get frustrated.

I can, to some extent, understand that editors may see this as a most cost effective answer to actually doing their jobs.

This may sound a little harsh, but the form-letter is an insult to authors.

Space Marines

My name is Christopher Geoffries. Until recently, I worked as an archaeologist/anthropologist in South Asia. A bit of a breakdown and a diagnosis of Asperger's syndrome.

I needed a new gig or I wasn’t going to be able to by the ramen.

The only thing I have published, so far, is a single haiku. I am working HARD to become proficient at my new profession.

I was shocked and dismayed to read of Games Workshop's attack on our shared cultural heritage. They are attempting to steal our very words.

'space marines' indeed.




In protest, I have put together a little 100,000+ novel about space marines. I call it Chris's Space Marine Extravaganza! It is available at Smashwords here for free.

Bears No More

Today, the 10 and 6 Chicago Bears fired their head coach Lovie Smith.

Today, I fired the Chicago Bears as the icon of my warship.

I will never have anything to do with the disgusting and reprehensible Chicago Bears. Did they tire of evicting children and old people?