Normal? I doubt it.

A friend said, "Normal sucks!"

I think she is close but slightly off the mark.

Normal is purely a statistical fiction, an average, a mathematical representation of a group of some sort. I would venture to say there are no normal people, although there are- by mathematical definition- a great many people clustered nearby that point. But that's just math, not people. If there are any normal people they are statistical anomalies, either accidents or miracles depending upon your viewpoint.^[1]

Normal doesn't suck.

Trying to become something you are not sucks.

Trying to make people normal sucks.

Worshiping normal sucks massively- more than the output of all the Hoovers, Electroluxes, Rainbows, and Kirbys put together.

But if you need to distill all of that down to a few words, a slogan, a reaction, then "Normal sucks!" works as well as anything.

 

NOTES
[1] None of us are accidents, but the fact that any of us fall smack dab onto the point labeled "normal" could well be. Although God does have a sense of humor.

Stop the presses, Merriam-Webster, I have a new word!

headline

Head-lie [hed-lie]
noun

1. a lying headline, i.e., most headlines today, esp. those linked by social media.
2. the largest lying headline on the front page, usually at the top.

verb (used with object)

3. to furnish with a headlie
4. to mention or name in a headlie.

 

Copyright 2014 Triple R Publishing, Round Rock, TX. All rights reserved.

Yet Another Open letter to Facebook

Dear Facebook,

What's on my mind is that you appear to have lost yours. You have confused "most recent stories" with... I'm not sure what. I'm not accusing you of drug usage, but a comparison to opium nightmares would not be without merit.

I was initially appreciative when you returned the ability to select between "most recent stories" and your twisted concept of "top stories". But someone liking a status or commenting on one does not make it a recent post. The algorithm that selects which "recent stories" I will see is equally as stupid and pathetic as that choosing "top stories", a phrase which in any other context most English speakers understand. In the Facebook context, however, it appears to mean, "things selected somewhat at random after weeding out what we think you really want to see".

Is this another social experiment to see how much abuse your user base (a.k.a. merchandise) will put up with? That plot actually fits the data really well.

Sincerely,
A bunch of confused users

Who Are You?

Life is so much easier if people are just real.

The great desire- and fear- of our society today is to be known. It's hard because so many don't know who they are, are afraid to be themselves, or they are convinced who they are is second class... at best.

God doesn't make mistakes or have accidents. You matter. You. Be you. Be the gift to the rest of us you are. There's your impact on the world around you, your legacy, your heritage.

You don't need to be someone else. They will do the best job of being them. You will do the best job of being you. Learn who you are, what you like, what you're good at, what you care about. Ask God to show you. Try things and see.

But be you. You will absolutely be the best at that, and the best you anyone could be.

MoPac Madness (Why T-Rex Should Not Drive)

He looked pretty much like anyone else on the highway, just another guy trying to get to work on time.

The left lane was actually the fast lane today, if not by much. Suddenly he saw a wall of brake lights, from the car in front of him all the way across to the exit lane. He hit his brake, sparing a quick glance in the mirror to be sure the guy following hard on his tail was braking.

"What's wrong with you people?" he screamed inside his head. "Why are you stopping? There's no reason to stop!!!" In his mind he was beating tiny T-Rex fists ineffectively against the steering wheel.

He glanced at his speedometer. Technically they were in a construction zone, though there were clearly no workers, and there was clearly no construction. But this had been true the last five miles. Why had everyone stopped?

"Well, not exactly stopped," he thought. They had just slowed down from 70 to 60. In what was currently a 55 zone. He grinned mockingly at himself in the mirror. "Dude, you need to calm down."

True story. I crack me up.

Traffic is my nemesis. We hates it, my Precioussss, WE HATESSS IT!!!

Still More Random Facts

By popular request or something: 8 more, more or less random facts about me that you have a reasonable chance of not knowing. Feel free to post yours! Just pick a number between 5 and 15, and post that many random facts. Or ask and I'll pick a number. Or ask someone around you. The first rule of this game is that there really aren't any!

Full disclosure: It's possible this was a Facebook post. It's possible this was not a Facebook post. After watching X-Men: Days of Future Past I realize it's possible that it both was and wasn't a Facebook post. I suspect Schrodinger's cat hates me. I hope he's not a Sentinel.

1. I like most styles of music from country to rock to metal to big band to hip hop to western swing to... but even in the genres I generally loathe (opera, pop) there are always gems I love. Caveat: If Slim Whitman is a genre, I haven't heard anything I liked.)
2. If I like a song or album, I may well just put it on repeat.[4] Earlier this week I listened to U2's "Gloria" at least a half dozen times before putting _Under a Blood Red Sky_ on repeat. I once left the same CD in my car's player for at least three months, and listened to it on my thirty to sixty minute each way, every day I worked.
3. In 1966 Aunt Betty (my Mom's sister) and her family came to visit. My teenaged cousin, Steve, had a 45[16] with the just released "Secret Agent Man". He played that non-stop[6] on the stereo morning to night, singing and playing his (or maybe Mom's) guitar, except when they made him stop for meals, or to watch the news or a ball game. I loved it but it drove my parents nuts. Dad claimed Steve wore out the brand new $10[2] diamond needle on the turntable.
4. Even unloaded, guns and mind-altering things don't mix. During my hippie daze, a housemate brought a couple of lovely, old family rifles back after a trip home. While I'm pretty sure we were not actually high at the time, we were still impaired as it had become a way of life. When another housemate got home, we dove behind a sofa and chair. When he came into the room looking for us we jumped up with rifles aimed at him and yelled, "BANG!" He died on the spot. Or thought he had. He was tripping, and it seriously froke him out. Stupid idea. Don't do it.
5. When I took that job as a paper boy[8] I really wanted to buy the previous route owner's Honda Cub 50 scooter, but Dad wouldn't let me. Nor would he let me get a ten speed. I ended up with Schwinn's[11] beefiest road bike, a single speed, with heavy duty baskets front and back. The baskets turned out to be a lifesaver, especially on Sundays when the papers were huge. The baskets would have looked stupid on a ten speed... but man was that bike a pig to get up some of those Augusta hills! On the other hand, my legs were in *great* shape after a few weeks.
6. A friend with a route and I threw parts of our routes together. One of us had James Brown's[12] grandmother[13] as a customer[14]. We went down a gravel driveway past a covered stoop; the paper had to be exactly in the middle of the doormat or our manager would get a complaint, and the paper's attitude was that the customer was always right and the paper boy wrong-- even if the customer said they wanted to maul the paper boy for fun. Then we continued down the gravel drive, around a sharp corner, and out into a busy street. We did this at top speed, sliding the bikes like dirt bike pros, because this house included the biggest German shepherd I have ever seen. He loved to hide in bushes and attack. He hated boys on bicycles. I once (LONG after I was no longer a paper boy) fantasized that I should have let the dog bite me and sued; I'd have been set for life. But in reality the dog would likely have devoured me and the Schwinn. And the extra papers. There would ha ve been no evidence.
7. My twin[15] brother Jon and I shared an apartment for a few months before Sharon and the kids were able to move to Austin. We were really into slingshots, BB guns, the predecessors to AirSoft, etc. We spent hours in the back yard shooting, starting with cans and working our way down to empty CO2 cartridges (the size of my middle finger) at ~20 feet. We got really good. When it was rainy we set up an indoor BB gun shooting range in the hallway. When I get one of my BB guns fixed, I am thinking indoor range again.
8. As a geek and long time software engineer, it annoys me that an "8" next to a ")" turns into a smiley face in browsers. It also delights me.[1] It also annoys me that it does this in browsers but not in apps. That does not delight me.

NOTES [1] I was putting Easter eggs in things before we called them that. [3]
[2] Per the government's inflation calculator, today (2014-06-05) that would be $72.29.
[3] Yes, I sometimes number these as I add them, not in order of appearance.[5][7]
[4] See #3.
[5] Why, no, I don't get confused about these. Why?
[6] You did read #2, right?
[7] If you are reading these, raise your hand.
[8] In a previous "random facts" post; go read it after this one, if you haven't![9]
[9] Or else![10]
[10] Or else what? I have no idea. Or else you won't?
[11] Which my friends who had discovered lightweight, Italian, racing bikes called a "Schwine".
[12] Yes, that James Brown!
[13] Hopefully I didn't tell this story before. If so, let me know and I will throw in a bonus fact.
[14] We never saw the lady. Or Mr. Brown. Just the dog, and once, a housekeeper. She shook something at us because the paper was an inch or two off center, but at least she didn't call the paper.
[15] Twins born to different sets of parents in different cities in different years, but so what? It's what's inside the head and heart that counts. There, we're twins.
[16] That's a record, a thing with music on it, not a pistol!

Side Effects of Watching Winter Soldier in 3D Late at Night

The latest Captain America is, of course, intense. Watching it late at night in 3D intensifies that. How much? Consider the following truths:

1. The only other guy watching the showing I attended sat down directly behind me, two rows back. I spent parts of the movie waiting for his garrote or knife attack.
2. I felt the need to run full tilt through the exit doors to knock down whoever was waiting on the other side with drawn weapons.
3. I needed to scan the parking lot on the way to my car.
4. I might have flinched as I opened the car door, waiting for an explosion or attack.
5. I wanted to tear out of the parking lot to not be an easy target like Fury's car.
6. I really wanted an EMP to take out my house's outside lights so I could sneak in.
7. I wanted to creep through my darkened house, stealthily closing blinds while staying out of view through the windows.
8. I want as little light inside the house as possible.

I will say that some subset of these happened. I have (so far) not been taken by-- or even engaged-- anyone: SHIELD, Hydra, Wilco Sheriffs, or my neighbors.

It's going to be a long night.