Notes from the Petting Zoo

I would invent a time machine. I would.

I would use it selfishly. I admit this. I cannot be an ivory tower of intellectual purity if I have a time machine at my beck and call. No, no, that will not do.

Time to start making some positive changes in my past life, to correct the errors that made me the loser I am today. Time to guide my earlier self into making better decisions. Time to be more careful as a wee lad. Time to buy up those PowerBall tickets.

Wait a sec…

When I correct errors made in my youth, I still make them, but I make them later, when the repercussions are more severe. As it turns out, to be the person I am today requires that I made that exact error at that time.

When I guide myself into making better decisions, I discovered that I grew up expecting to receive guidance. As a result, I grew really spineless. What a miserable failure, only because I listened to some big voice in the clouds.

When I make myself be more careful, it turns out that, too, has a profound effect on me. I am less adventurous. I’m a homebody, staring out the window and pining for the adventures I vaguely feel I missed somehow. that won’t do!

And those PowerBall tickets? Tricky. When I just handed the numbers to my younger self, the numbers were treated suspiciously and never used. D’oh! So, I tried tricking my younger self by entering the numbers myself and then slipping the winning ticket into an obvious place. But even that had bad consequences — I became so accustomed to money falling out of the sky that I stopped trying to do things. Why bother? I could just buy what I needed. Plus, I thought I was just “lucky” and I developed a helluva gambling habit. The best I could do was place very subtle reminders of the numbers around and hope my younger self sees the right combination.

So, basically, if I could travel in time, I would probably pretty much appear and act exactly as I do now. Except I’d have a time machine. Which I would dismantle and forget. Forever.

I have no proof I have not already done this, in fact.

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I would invent a time machine. I would.

I would use this machine to study historical events of interest to me. I would be very careful to leave no traces or proof that I had traveled in time. I would only observe. I would take no photographs or movies. In fact, to make sure that my knowledge of the event is proper, I would arrange that the event be witnessed or otherwise recorded using the technology of the time. Then, what I know wouldn’t be considered anachronistic. Plus, as an added bonus, other people who are interested can learn without using a time machine (which is a tricky piece of equipment).

After I was done, I would probably dismantle the infernal thing. Mankind ought not to go traipsing about in Time. It’s too dangerous. To make sure I did a clean job, I would have that part of my memory erased, or at least replaced with the understanding that I only imagined my journeys.

Then, I would consider my tracks covered — even from my own prying eyes.

I have no proof I have not already done this, in fact.

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Stegosaurs have just the worst rap.

Those of you who were dinosaur freaks (and you know who you are), remember all the things about stegosaurs?

Plates on the back? Check.

Spikes on the tail? Check. (and yeah, cool in Jurassic Park 3, but I digress)

Brain the size of a walnut? Check.

Wait a second. Let’s look at that last one again…

Brain the size of a walnut makes an animal stupid? Well, I’m not so sure about that. First of all, I’ve seen a lot of really clever animals who have brains significantly smaller than a walnut. Rats, for example. Unless a rat is keeping a portion of the brain in another dimension (and cleverly so), then it has managed to achieve quite a reasonable level of intelligence on a brain much smaller than a walnut. Hell, the rat’s head is smaller than a walnut (except for mutant underground rats, but we shall not speak of them). And other creatures clearly demonstrate problem solving skills, yet are saddled with a brain that is below the Walnut Threshold. Even planarian worms can learn mazes and thousands of the little buggers can fit in a walnut shell!

Shall I discuss animals who have brains that are measurably larger than a walnut, yet consistently act in stupid, self-destructive ways? No, no, for we all can watch daytime TV and we all know people who would not be responsible if they had large spinal plates and a spiked tail.

And whales. Whales have huge brains, as well as do squids and octopi, but they have yet to gang up and reclaim the sea for their own. Maybe a lack of intelligence, or maybe they’re plotting something…

Finally, there are animals who do have brains that are, to use the popular nomenclature, the size of a walnut. In fact, I happen to know of a creature who is very well known with a brain the size of a walnut. Cats. You might remember cats. People claim their cats are “sooo intelligent!” and “wise” and how their cats always “know just what I’m thinking” and so forth. Cats. Stegosaur. Same intelligence. So, either cats are really stupid or stegosaurs were “soooo intelligent”. I look at my cat and I think “You have a brain about the size of a stegosaur’s brain. How does that make you feel?” and he just studiously licks his ass (you never see stegosaurii doing that in the Natural History Museum recreations).

Still, I’m glad we don’t have stegosaurs as housepets — I’d hate for a stegosaur to hop into our bed and I definitely don’t want to clean out the litterbox.

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There’s something funny about this phrase. More (or less, perhaps) precisely, there’s something funny about the way people use it.

I was, years ago, talking with a co-worker about some minor inconvenience from earlier in the day. A cashier had made some counting glitch, or something just really inconsequential that had been corrected within a few moments and without fuss. The co-worker seemed a bit surprised at this and asked me something like “Oh, weren’t you pissed?” I thought it was an odd question because, well, I had just finished telling the story and there was no anger in it. It was some sort of goof, fixed, done, and over with.

She persisted: “Well, I sure would be pissed.”, at which I vaguely recall shrugging and saying “It really wasn’t a big deal.”

Then she nods at me knowingly and says “Oh, I understand. Choose your battles.”

The more I thought about it, the more bothered by that phrase I became. There was no battle — it was just one of the many bumps in life that we all tumble around as we go. These things aren’t exactly “battles”, unless you have the sociological version of immune deficiency. They’re just… life.

Choose my battles?

I don’t think I like the idea that everything’s a battle and that it’s up to me to choose in which ones I participate. I just don’t think it’s all a battle. I just don’t think the world is out to get me and I’m constantly dangling from the precipice above Edgar Rice Burrough’s “mad Virginian fighting rage”. What a crazy way to look at life!

And then I noticed something else about the phrase.

The people I’ve heard use it use it in a very particular way. They use it as a sort of last-word flick-off, as if to tell the supposed opponent “Well, the only reason your ass isn’t kicked nine ways from Sunday right now is because I choose my battles.” Suggesting that, perhaps, the other person just isn’t important enough to fight, as if somehow the act of fighting conveys value.

Wow. That seemed even more screwed up.

So, I think I’ll probably knock off using that phrase. First of all, it’s a cliché and that alone is enough to doom it. Second, it suggests that I’m always just on the lip of fighting anyway, which plain isn’t true. And third, it’s just a spiteful little fucker-phrase. If I’m going to say something spiteful, I can do better than a cliché.

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Is it wrong of me to suggest that one can opt in or opt out of the Organ Donation Program — and that such opting works both ways? In other words, if you’re willing to let other people use yours when you’re done with ‘em, then if you need one, we can get you one. If you’re going to opt out, though, you don’t get one if you need one.

And if you do receive one, then that’s an automatic opt in forever.

That seems fair, at least for adults.

For minors, maybe it’s important for the adult guardian to opt in. Not sure on that yet — it’s easy to be sanguinary about adults because they’re old enough to make their dumb-ass decisions.

Maybe it’s best to just consider everyone opted in, unless they choose to opt out (or their guardian chooses to opt out)?

I mean, this is only until we can grow our own organ-clones and steal those organs. No one’s gonna object to that.

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I think this is an interesting exercise. I do it every time I think about it. I like doing it. I learn a lot.

Every once in a while, ask a partner one of these questions:

“How can I be a better partner/husband for you?” (modify as per your situation)
“What have I done lately that you really enjoyed?”
“What would you like me to do more of?”
“What have I done lately that you didn’t like?”
“What would you like me to do less of?”

Then, listen to the answer. You may ask questions only to help make the answer clearer to you, but this is not a time for explaining or equivocating or rationalizing. This is a chance to receive a relatively unfiltered opinion from a person you’re involved with. Simply listen. When they are done, thank them. Thank them because they have given you a great gift — their truths as they see it.

You don’t have to act any differently once you learn this, but you might discover that you can make a difference in ways you wouldn’t have otherwise seen.

If one of these questions is asked of you, answer it as honestly as you can. Speak your truth, and realize that you are speaking to a person who wants to know your truth.

Accept that they might choose to not act any differently afterwards, but understand that they listened, that they heard your words. If they ask questions to understand better, feel free to elaborate a bit. The goal is to help them understand you. This is why they asked.

At the end, thank them. Thank them because they offered you something remarkable — an open face, an open hand, and ears willing to listen entirely to your truths. This is a gift, too.

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There are Great Thinkers in history and there are Great Writers in history, but only on rare occasions will one single person embody both traits, combined with the softly brutal one-two punch of Humor and Simplicity.

Cecil Adams is that man.

If you have never heard of Cecil Adams, or never read The Straight Dope, or visited the website, prepare yourself for one of the most mentally stimulating moments of your life.

Browse through the archives, if you like. I can lose a day there if I’m not careful. Three days if I am.

I recommend you start out slow. Visit the site once per day and read the new column that day, and then pick up a few articles from the archives. Browse around the archives or go through in linear fashion, however the spirit pokes you. Do this for just a week, maybe two. You can afford the time. Think of it as another tribe or yahoo group, but smaller and less inane.

Quick, visit and bookmark it now: The Straight Dope

I promise, no matter how smart you feel now, after a week of Cecil Adams and the archives, you’ll feel both more humble and yet smarter at the same time.

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I love these little guys. When you have enough of ‘em going in the Spring, they sound like the phasers on Star Trek. It’s uncanny!

I had one drop on my head one night during a video shoot. Talk about surreal. We stopped everything until the frog was safe.

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Mystery is neat. We all like a good mystery and we all enjoy solving a good puzzle, especially if it provides us with an understanding or a way of thinking that had been alien to us before. Brain stretches. Nice.

And sometimes, things are mysterious. We just don’t understand them. We might never understand them. What is Dark Matter, exactly? What is consciousness? What are those little holes at the end of the plugs of an electrical device?

Sometimes, things that used to be mysterious are no longer mysteries. Their cause becomes understood. They can be duplicated in the lab. They are no longer mysterious.

This is a good thing.

I read this great article about Spontaneous Human Combustion. More specifically, a description of the supposed phenomenon, and a collection of theories. In particular, one theory that was tested and the results were amazing. A simple theory showed exactly how humans could seemingly combust in mid-sit. Each incident had evidence supporting the theory, too.

Now, the funny part is, there are people who still think there are other people who just spontaneously combust. They see this, and they seem to understand it, but they can’t let go of their own theories. This seems dishonest. There are still plenty of real mysteries to contemplate — why cling to this one? Frankly, as a person who enjoys a good mystery, I’m glad there appears to be no cases of spontaneous human combustion, that all of this has a perfectly logical explanation.

I’d rather dismiss a false mystery and focus my energies on the real ones.

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I like candles. I’d probably have more candles if I thought about it, or if I didn’t have a cat or if I wouldn’t spend all my time playing with the damn things. But I like them. They give off a nice light. They help make a room cozy. They’re nice.

Tapered candles are cool. Those seem to be pretty efficient at burning the wax. It’s neat to finally toss out a little stub.

The fat candles, though. Oh, those fat candles… Fat candles are annoying. I can see no easy reason to have a candle fatter than the specified distance from a flame such that the wax will melt. If the candle’s any fatter than that, then you don’t burn all the wax. The wick simply tunnels through the candle like a mussel, until you can’t light it anymore without burning the hairs off the top of your hand (how romantic-smelling that is!), assuming you can even get the lighter in there. Ever seen the candles at the thrift store? Almost all of them are fat, tunneled candles with an acquired taste for charred human flesh. It’s no coincidence they are in the thrift store. No coincidence at all.

When I have fat candles, I wait until the wax is soft and I try to bend the walls in a little, but that’s only a half-ass maneuver. I sometimes carve away the walls before I light the candle and then I slowly feed the slivers into the growing wax reservoir. This does the trick, but it requires so much time spent keeping an eye on the candle.

Candles with three (or multiple) wicks are a slight improvement, but it seems as if all the industry did was make the candles even fatter to accommodate the triple flames. Same problem.

Here’s my solution: spiraling the wick.

It doesn’t have to be a huge spiral, just enough so that during one entire rotation, all of the candle above the level of the wick will receive sufficient heat to melt and feed the wick.

Spiral wicks will not only use the candle up more efficiently, but they will last longer. Candles can sure use a dose of longevity anyway.

Spiral wicks.

How hard can this be?

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We mock what we think is acceptable to mock. We decide what is acceptable to mock when we see other people mock it without recrimination.

Sometimes, we are the in the unique place to stop this sequence. Sometimes we are in the equally unique place to propagate it. Our choices in both instances have consequences that reach farther than we think.

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I received a fortune today. I don’t know where it came from — it popped into my head fully formed this morning.

Someone today will try to take something from you. They will not do this maliciously, it will be casual, perhaps even friendly. They will mean no harm. But that loss will become a problem for you. Prevent that loss. Maybe just for one day, but there’s no crime in just conserving yourself a little today. Your time, your energy, your resources. You don’t have to be rude or even impolite, but be firm. Don’t let them take that from you today. Not today.

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So many changes in life, and so many things shifting and all I can think of right now, the only thing that comes into my mind is to urge everyone to just be a little kinder today than they planned, to wait just a few seconds more before blowing their tops, to be just a little more careful to walk softly, to thank the people who haven’t been thanked, and to just keep the place a little bit neater. Just, y’know, for a day. That’s all I’m asking.

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I have seen too many people get screwed by being unable to communicate (myself included). The usual pattern of events ends in something that can best be summarized by “I didn’t know what was going on”. Now me, I hate being ignorant, so I started taking a look at social interactions. There seemed to be a pretty limited number of basic rules. The basic methodology behind successfully communicating in any environment can be pared down to these four rules:

1. Know yourself and your own desires
   If you don’t take care of this one single thing, then you will very likely have a lot of unhappy experiences in social settings. When you know yourself, your desires, and your purpose (which can include “no purpose, really, just hangin’ ’round”), then you can’t be knocked awry by things that might interfere.
2. Understand your current environment
   Pay attention fer Pete’s sake! If you’re going somewhere, think about what you expect of that environment. Get references if you have to. When you’re there, compare against your expectations. Observe. Sure, it’s possible to blow into, say, a party, in an explosion of social energy, but that can be tiring on a 24/7 schedule. Spend a lot of time in “infiltrate mode”. Watch. Observe. Learn.
3. Learn how to effectively communicate in your current environment
   I think I would consider this part of point 2, but it’s just so damn important that I’m giving it its own point. Observe how others are communicating. You already have a good repertoire, right? Now’s a chance to see which tools you already have work and what new tools you can discover. Are you seeing drawn-out discussions, subtle body language, flamboyant gestures? Do these methods produce results? Then that’s how people are communicating!
4. Be willing to communicate using the prevailing methods
   Now I remember why I made point 3 a separate point. If people are only getting communication across by bashing each other in the heads with beer steins, then — if you want to communicate in the same group — you must be willing to knock a few skulls in. Use what you’ve observed to understand how to communicate and compare that against your own desires to determine if you wish to participate.

When I review my past (and present!) errors, each and every time I run right into a violation of one of these rules. Maybe I didn’t fully understand what I wanted, maybe I didn’t understand my environment, or maybe I learned that I wasn’t willing to communicate in the manner that seemed most appropriate.

Every single time — at least one (if not more) of those rules — broken like a glass hammer.

Now’s a great chance to learn from someone else’s mistakes for once!

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Sometimes, it’s unbelievable the amount of damage a person can cause once they decide the people around them are no longer people, but just disposable characters in the tragi-comedy of their own minds.

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