Packaged for posterity...

Maybe the madness began with strapping tape. Its invention seemed to excite people, so that packages arrived more and more impenetrably wrapped, in layer upon layer of the tough, string-reinforced stuff. Where tearing fingers used to do the job, a blade-knife and a surgical precision had to be mustered. Domestic injuries mounted, but the tape kept coming, along with flesh-coloured plastic tape that wouldn't tear - just stretched, like tortured flesh - no matter how hard you pulled.

Then one day, the cereal and detergent boxes that had always said "Press Here" ceased to yield, when pressed, the little pouring holes we remembered from childhood. Rather, our thumbnails broke, and turned purple overnight. Padded book envelopes, which used to open with an easy tug on the stapled turned-over flap, were now taped over the staples. The taping was tenacious, multi-layered. Postal regulations, some said: too many assistants were calling in sick after cutaneous contact with half-bent staple ends.

All this time, childproof pill bottles had been imperceptibly toughening and complicating, to the point where only children had the patience and eyesight to open them. Though the two arrows were lined up under a magnifying glass and superhuman manual force was exerted, the top declined to pop off. Similarly, the screw-tops on cans and bottles refused to slip into the grooves that in theory would lift them up - up and free. Instead, they rotated aimlessly no matter how much simultaneously downward and sideways, or semicircular, pressure was applied.

Occasionally, an isolated householder did enjoy a moment of success with these resiliently-sealed and reluctant containers; manufacturers, swiftly striking back, printed the instructions in even smaller type or, less readable yet, in raised plastic letters. The corporations, it seemed, did not want their products released into use - any upsurge in demand might interfere with their lucrative downsizing programmes.

The little bags of peanuts with which the downsizing airlines had replaced in-flight meals became impossible to open. The minuscule notch lettered "Tear Here" was a ruse; in truth, the plastic-backed tinfoil, or tinfoil-backed plastic, had been reinforced in that very place. Mounting frustration, intensified by the normal claustrophobia, cramping, and fright of air travel, produced dozens of cases of apoplexy and literally thousands of convulsively spilt peanuts. Even the transparent sacs of plastic cutlery for aeroplane meals proved seamlessly resistant, and yielded up their treasure only when pierced from within by a painstakingly manipulated fork.

Such consumer-resistant packaging devices were all as bows and arrows before the invention of gunpowder, however, once the maker of "VANISH", a brand of mysterious crystals alleged to be able to clean toilet bowls, came up with a red child-resistant cap, shaped like a barred "O," a three-dimensional "O," whose accompanying arc-shaped directions read, "To open: Squeeze centre while pulling up." Well, good luck: squeeze until your face turns red, white, and blue. No amount of aerobic finger exercise will ever pack in the squeeze power needed to release those crystals into that murky toilet bowl.

Either we have grown feeble or the policy of containment, once preached as the only safe tactic for dealing with the growing terrorist menace, has now refocused upon the output of capitalism, in all its sparkling, poisonous, hazardous, variety. They - the corporate powers that control our commercial lives - have apparently decided, with regard to one product after another, to make it, advertise it, ship it, but not let us into it - be it aspirin, salted peanuts, or 'Vanish', it is too wonderful for us - too potent, too fine.

We rub the lamp, but no genie is released. It seems, we live surrounded by magic caskets that keep their tangy and convenient goodness sealed in forever! Now don't get me started on modern vehicle on-board 'safety' electronic measures... (",)

April's Fools... May's Woes...

April Fool's Day started on the Indian sub-continent as a day set aside for people to escape from their caste restrictions, but it was quickly taken over by the princes as a state occasion, a time for princes to play state jokes on other princes. The classic example, according to George Summers in his book 'April Fool', is the story of Prince Jehawar, who massed his entire army outside the city of a rival prince at dawn. As the sun rose and the frightened citizens watched, Jehawar's army charged, passed by the city without so much as a sidelong glance and vanished into the distance.

The tradition percolated through the Middle East into Europe, re-emerging in medieval times alive and flourishing. An example of the commercialised April Fool joke is that of the butcher of Shrewsbury, England,who ran through the town, early one April 1, yelling that the Welsh were coming down from the hills in force. The entire citizenry gathered on the walls overlooking the River Severn, waiting to repulse attackers. For half an hour nothing happened. Then the butcher floated downriver in a boat which sported a large sign: "Apryl fooles - buye your sausages from Richard Harris in ye Highe Streete."

Tudor jokes tended to the sophisticated - Ben Jonson presented a sonnet to one of his patrons on April 1 with a faulty rhyme that almost drove him demented - but under the Stuarts the custom grew cruder, more physical. Once the Earl of Rochester disguised himself as Charles II and burst into Nell Gwynne's bedroom very early one April 1. No doubt he would speedily have attained his purpose, had not the real monarch already been lying in bed with her.

By 1800 this valuable and creative tradition had started to wilt, with occasional flashes of ingenuity here and there. The Prince of Wales, one April 1, persuaded all his cronies to snigger at Beau Nash whenever he appeared; the celebrated dandy, after enduring five hours of snickering at what he thought was a perfect costume, went home and replaced his entire wardrobe.

And so to today, and to a sad feeling that we have lost the knack for irreverence on a large scale. I for one have not much hope of being spoofed on April Fool's Day, of having the wool pulled over my eyes, my leg pulled or my hood winked. I can't talk, I suppose. After all, this could be a completely fictitious article...

40 WINKS - The Story of The Honest Magician

- a story by RICARDO TORRES

A few days ago, a painting titled "The Scream" was sold at an auction for one hundred and twenty million dollars: the highest price ever paid for a composition on canvas, even though some of Picasso's works have come close in recent years.

There used to be a lot of discussion about the actual artistic value of the cubist and abstractionist movements: not anymore. Nobody really cares except, ironically, those who are willing to pay millions of dollars for a Pollock.

The following is a true story, more or less. It is also an involuntary compilation on my part: the lead character has more than just one prototype. I can't remember which one of them gave the interview, which (the interview) is the most important part of the story (at least to those who have ears (in the biblical sense) and have a soft spot for the dramatic).

Art forgery is nothing new. Those who want to know a thing or two about the nature of the business can watch the mildly entertaining film called "Incognito." It beats any other movie depicting a painter at work in that some benevolent soul took the trouble to teach the actor the basics; i.e. how to hold the brush and how to lay paint on canvas. Normally, actors squeeze the brush "artistically" between their thumb and index fingers, close to the bristles, dip it in paint once, and "tickle" the canvas, choosing a random spot on it and pretending to cover it with tiny strokes, one over another, forever, which is very annoying to watch. F-ng amateur hour. With some exceptions, you don't touch the same spot with your brush again until the paint is dry, unless you want your work to look as if it were created by an over-zealous five-year-old.

Anyway, there was this dude who lived in the Twentieth Century, and for all I know he may still be alive. He was Swiss. Or maybe he just owned real estate in Switzerland and spent his summers somewhere near Geneva; I can't remember; it doesn't matter. Let's just assume he was Swiss.

Unlike most of the Swiss folks, he was born wealthy. Early on he discovered he had a talent for drawing and painting. He took lessons and studied on his own, doing what any honest artist should do when he's just starting out: copying the originals of some old masters. It's the easiest thing in the world to arrange; most museums, in fact, are pretty hospitable like that: just make sure you notify the right people in the administration, explaining that you want to learn from the best; bring your easel; bring something to cover the floor under the easel; bring your canvas, paints, and brushes, and knock yourself out. Someone will even bring you coffee. You'll get more attention from tourists than the actual paintings in all the rooms combined. A man performing a meaningful task in public is a magnet for loafers. They love to ask cretinous questions and take pictures with their cheap cameras. But I digress.

This Swiss dude discovered he was a very able technician - among other things. He didn't merely copy a Hals or a Goya: he copied them very, very precisely. It came naturally to him.

After painting a few pictures of his own and reading some negative reviews about them, he decided he'd show that the critics were idiots. This is interesting, and goes a long way to explain a number of things; but hardly the important part. I'll tell you when the important part comes on. But read on, or you won't "get it."

He locked himself up in his studio and painted a whole bunch of things after the manner of Titian, Velasquez, Rembrandt, Lebrun, and some of the other usual suspects. He did a few Turners, I think; and a few impressionists: Monet, Manet, Renoir, and so forth. And then a few cubists and abstractionists: Kandinsky, Picasso, Chagall, etc.

No, he didn't copy any of the existing works. He created NEW Rembrandts and NEW Manets. Because he was wealthy, he was able to pose as a collector, as well as a hunter for "lost" or "hitherto unknown" masterpieces. He aged his canvases accordingly, and did many other things to them - I'm not going to bore you with the details. He started selling them - to private citizens, and then to museums. He made a lot of money. I mean, A LOT of money. Really. Museums and auctions hired well-known experts who established beyond all doubt the authenticity of each canvas. There was a legend attached to each work. "This one languished in the cellar of a Sicilian farmer for three centuries," etc.

The money isn't important. The legends aren't very important either.

He got carried away; he got careless; reckless; he erred, screwed up a deal, was rude to the wrong person at the wrong moment; someone decided to investigate; evidence began to mount, and the Swiss dude was arrested.
As expected, many museums that had bought "Rembrandts" and "Renoirs" from him refused to admit it, since admitting they had paid a few million bucks for a fake would reflect badly on them and the experts they employed and paid a lot of money to. This isn't very important either.

They didn't put him away for many years. He got off lightly (sort of), mostly because many of those who could testify (his former clients, purchasers of his product) refused to do so. Nobody wants to look like a moron.

Now comes the important part: the interview.


It was a fluke: a stroke of genius. The reporter who visited the Swiss dude at the Swiss dude's castle after the trial was imaginative enough to ask just the right questions; and got honest replies.


The first question was:


How long did it normally take you to do a "new" Hals or Rembrandt?

The answer: It varied. You have to factor in the size of the painting and the amount of detail. Anywhere from four months to a year.

And the next question was:

And a "new" Picasso or Chagall?

And the answer was:

About forty minutes...

”Perfection is not attainable, but if we chase perfection we can catch excellence.” - Vince Lombard

You can leave your hat on... and other fallacies

Stop! Are you about to eat a scoop of onion dip? It could cause meningitis. Showing some kids around work? Be careful, please, keep them away from the stapler. Planning a walk? Bring plenty of water or you could end up in a coma!

And let’s not even talk about what could happen if you take the kids to the shopping centre and find yourselves contemplating an escalator ride. You should tie their shoelaces, insist they hold the handrail, and place them in the centre of the step, and say your prayers (but not on your knees, for obvious reasons). “Perhaps most important, learn where the emergency shut-off button is so you can turn off the escalator if someone gets trapped while riding. That’s right: if you want to be safe - and who doesn’t? - Every time you ride the escalator with a child, you should first make sure you can leap into action and slam off the contraption, mid-mangle. That’s not too much to think about when you’re on a shopping trip, is it? Yeah, right…

We are being warned about the weirdest, wildest, least likely and most far-fetched, ill-founded and downright bizarre possibilities to the point we are being scared stupid.  “Watch out” mania rules the media. All the warnings above are real; the stapler one came from an interoffice memo. But they’re just the tip of the iceberg. (Watch out for those, too!) Do some research - watch TV; cruise the internet, read books, magazines and email “tips” to see what the average person gets warned about in the course of everyday life.

The result..? Please continue to read this from inside a giant safe-deposit box. They can feed you - but no onion dip, please - from a hole you can drill in the side. Don’t take a cell phone, because it could give you a brain tumour. Don’t have a bottle of water, because the plastic could disrupt your endocrine receptors and switch your gender. Don’t have a mattress; it could be toxic. Don’t eat meat; it could give you asthma.

But you can’t leave the box and go to the supermarket, because you might be tempted to put your kid in a trolley. Parents are strongly urged to seek alternatives to transporting their child in a shopping trolley until an effective revised performance standard for shopping trolley safety is implemented.

 That’s right: the modern shopping trolley is just too dangerous. Parents must come up with an alternative. A dogsled, maybe? A mini Hummer?


You probably shouldn't leave your box, because if you go out in the sun, it could give you cancer. Then again, so could sunscreen. Then again …

Let’s look at some of the warnings:

Recently, TV health guru Dr Oz had a woman serve dip at a function and then he sent the remains to a lab to see what was in it. Guess what? The lab discovered Group B streptococcus, bacteria that are generally found in the intestinal tract and can probably be traced to the detested double-dippers. Furthermore, said Dr Oz, these bacteria can lead to things like.., meningitis! He neglected to add that strep B is usually a hazard only to newborns (who aren’t big dip enthusiasts), and bacterial meningitis is quite rare. Instead, he left viewers ready to lynch the next guy who sticks a half-chomped chip in the guacamole. But it’s not just dip that’s going to kill you.

 Dr Oz has devoted other segments to the dangers of cosmetics- counter make-up, shoes, nail salons, and that silent scourge: the complimentary mints next to the cash register in restaurants. Really, he did a whole big thing on these and his grossed-out audience swore off them forever. As if so many millions have been felled by free mints…

 Warning! “Hot weather can have a dire effect on senior health!”  - So what are the symptoms of overheating? You’ll never guess. Tops on the list: thirst! Then come those ever-so-subtle hints, including staggering”, “fainting”, “high body temperature”, and, in case you still didn’t get the message, “coma”. Really now, is there any way to avoid this stealthy danger? Thankfully, yes. Try these obscure but possibly helpful remedies: “Drink plenty of liquids”. Also: “Avoid exercising in the heat”. And: “Cover windows that are in direct sunlight”. Do you reckon? Not that I ever want to see seniors suffer from overheating, but I also don’t want to see seniors suffer from being treated as if they have bingo chips for brains. Anyone over 60 has probably worked out by now that when you’re thirsty, you should drink, and when you’re staggering, it’s time to take a break. Same goes for when you’re in a coma…

You don’t want your child to live in a bubble.., but remember that the more chances you take, the more likely your child will be injured or killed by an accident,” reads the passive-aggressive Hidden Dangers to Your Child’s Safety page on about.com. And so it warns about the “hidden dangers” of jumping castles and parade floats (“which can run over a child”) and my favourite new fear, “musical instruments, such as a guitar, that can hurt a young child... If one of the strings that is under high tension breaks, flying into his eye, or scratches his face”. That is the gold standard of warnings: a warning about an item that has been around almost forever and never been associated with any danger, except to the eardrums of parents and music teachers. And now it’s a bona fide health hazard!

One cell phone company issued instructions encouraging customers to “use your phone in a safe and sensible manner”. One of these “sensible” tips? “If your device rings and you discover it’s in the backseat, do not crawl over the seat to answer it while driving”.

 That’s verbatim. And it illustrates the whole problem. We get so many warnings flying at us that the real dangers (drunk/drink driving) and the almost hallucinatory ones (backseat-climbing driving) are jumbled together.

The fact is, the stranger and striking the warning, the less likely it is to be true. We tune in to the shocking studies because for some reason, we like to be scared. As children, we had ghost stories. As adults, we have health stories. Either way, we listen because something that seemed innocent is about to kill us! But shouldn’t it have killed us already? And why are we living longer than ever before?

Turns out, we live in very safe times. Not perfectly safe, but safe enough that instead of worrying about diphtheria, we’re worrying about dip. Pay attention to your health - and a little less to the health scare of the day - and you’ll be fine. Provided you watch out for that onion dip, and the shopping trolleys, and your kids’ plastic toys, and the top button on your shirt, and…

Gottaluvit! ~ Stafford (piece condensed from Lenore Skenazy)

Palm Sunday revisited

This was shared by a friend, about a year ago - I don't know if that friend still exists - but the message still rings so true...

Some donkeys were in the field nearby Jerusalem. One young donkey said: 'I just don't understand it, just yesterday everyone was throwing their clothes and palms on the road when I was carrying Jesus on my back, but now I am back to being a nothing. Those people don't even see it's me Jesus was riding.' Another donkey said: 'It works like that brother, without Jesus you are a nothing in this world!'

GottaluvHim! - God bless ~ Stafford

"The fool says in his heart, “There is no God.” They are corrupt, their deeds are vile; there is no one who does good.” -Psalm 14:1

It begins...

HOW TO SURVIVE A HEART ATTACK WHEN ALONE

Let's say it's 6.15pm and you're going home (alone of course), after an unusually hard day on the job. You're really tired, upset and frustrated. Suddenly you start experiencing severe pain in your chest that starts to drag out into your arm and up into your jaw. You are only about five miles from the hospital nearest your home. Unfortunately you don't know if you'll be able to make it that far. You have been trained in CPR, but the guy that taught the course did not tell you how to perform it on yourself..!!

NOW, HOW TO SURVIVE A HEART ATTACK WHEN ALONE...

Since many people are alone when they suffer a heart attack, without help, the person whose heart is beating improperly and who begins to feel faint, has only about 10 seconds left before losing consciousness. However, these victims can help themselves by coughing repeatedly and very vigorously. A deep breath should be taken before each cough, and the cough must be deep and prolonged, as when producing sputum from deep inside the chest. A breath and a cough must be repeated about every two seconds without let-up until help arrives, or until the heart is felt to be beating normally again.

Deep breaths get oxygen into the lungs and coughing movements squeeze the heart and keep the blood circulating. The squeezing pressure on the heart also helps it regain normal rhythm. In this way, heart attack victims can get to a hospital. Contribute by Sharing this can save a person's life!!


Quit worrying about your health - it'll go away... - Robert Orben

Vegan Until Six

On first glance, the title may mislead you to think that the subject program involves being a vegan until the age of six (6). In fact, it actually champions the modified eating habit of avoiding animal products everyday until 18:00 (6 p.m.).

I’m not a small person, so I don’t look that heavy (I think so anyway), but I am overweight and have developed some health issues. My cholesterol is up, as is my blood sugar (there’s diabetes in my family), my back plays up occasionally and I’ve developed sleep apnoea. I have no intention of becoming a vegetarian, but I can see the writing on the wall: industrial meat production had gone beyond distasteful and alienating to become disgusting and dangerous (its link to global warming doesn’t help). Traditional, natural ingredients are becoming rare, and respectable scientific studies point towards the health benefits of eating more plant-based foods and fewer meat-based ones.

For me, the combination of cholesterol, blood sugar and apnoea was the real trigger. My problems are scary and, according to my doctor, easily remedied. For the cholesterol, I can take cholesterol-lowering drugs or eat less meat; for the blood sugar, I must eat fewer sweets; for the apnoea, I have to lose 15% of my body weight. Everything points to a simpler style of eating. So I’ve started following a diet that is nearly “vegan until six”.

Now, until dinner, I eat almost no animal products and no simple carbohydrates (no white-flour products, junk food, or sugar-heavy snacks). At dinner, I eat as I always have, sometimes a sizeable meal including animal products, bread, dessert, a glass of wine or a beer.., or sometimes just a salad and a bowl of soup. Late night snacking; I’ve switched from potato-crisps to maize-based crisps (love my Nik Naks). I’m also taking several long walks each week, going to attempt to be more active in my workplace and making better use of the gym membership.

Though few nutritionists would disapprove, this plan may seem counter-intuitive. The opposite schedule (eating the day’s heaviest meal for lunch or breakfast) may make more sense for many people, but it suits me. I detest overly prescriptive diets, and the point is to eat more vegetables, fruits, legumes and wholegrains, and less meat, sugar, junk food and over-refined carbohydrates, without giving up the foods I love.

I’ve just started applying this ‘diet’ to my lifestyle from the beginning of this year, 2012; so it's just been a few days and can’t speak to any personal results or benefits thereof yet. But I’m going to let you in on the expected results; as related by the author and protagonist of the program, MARK BITTMAN (aged 57, weak-kneed and weighing in at 97kg):

“My results were striking. I had little trouble eating this way, I began feeling and sleeping better, and I didn't think much about it for a month or two. It just made sense. A month later, I’d lost 7kg. A month after that, both my cholesterol and my blood sugar were down, well into the normal range (my cholesterol went from 240 to 180). My apnoea was gone, and I was sleeping through the night.

Within four months, I had lost 16kg and weighed less than I had in 30 years. In fact, of all my diet-related ailments, only my knees didn’t respond. (Oh well, one does age.) My weight has stabilised, and - perhaps more importantly - I’m at home with this way of eating. My doctor was very happy with my progress. (Check with yours first.)

Today I eat about a third as much meat, dairy and even fish as I did a few years ago. (Farmed fish has many of the same issues as farmed land animals, including antibiotic use and environmental damage.) I eat few refined carbohydrates. But if there’s good white bread at dinner, I attack it, and I still have pasta a couple of times a week. I eat almost no junk food. I eat about three or four times more plant foods (such as green leafy vegetables) than before; probably 50% of my kilojoules now come from non-animal sources.

For some people, a shift of 10% of kilojoules from animal to plant may feel significant, though I doubt it. It would be the equivalent of maybe not having chicken on a Caesar salad at lunch. A person making that kind of shift, along with cutting way back on junk food and carbohydrates, might still see positive health changes. But a shift of 50% - replacing half your animal kilojoules with plant ones - would be a significant change and need a conscious effort.

The goal of eating sanely is not to cut kilojoules; it will happen naturally. Nor is it to cut protein, though again, you’ll end up eating less. The goal isn’t to save money, though you probably will. Rather, the goal is to eat less of certain foods and more of others - specifically, plants, as close to their natural state as possible. Above all, this is a shift in perspective, one that means better eating for both your body and the planet.”

Let’s see how it goes – please say a little prayer for my future efforts folks! You’re welcome to join me. Thanks and God bless ~ SB

Love Online

Dear Tech Support, Last year I upgraded from Boyfriend 5.0 to Husband 1.0 and noticed a distinct slowdown in system performance, particularly in the flower and jewellery applications, which operated flawlessly under Boyfriend 5.0. Husband 1.0 also uninstalled other valuable programs, such as Romance 9.5 and Personal Attention 6.5, and then installed undesirable programs such as Rugby 5.0, Football 3.0 and Golf Clubs 4.1. Conversation 8.0 no longer runs, and Housecleaning 2.6 simply crashes the system. I have run Nagging 19.12 to fix these problems, but to no avail. What can I do? - Desperate

Dear Desperate, First, keep in mind, Boyfriend 5.0 is an entertainment package, while Husband 1.0 is an operating system. Please enter command: "ithoughtyoulovedme.html", try to download Tears 6.2 and do not forget to install the Guilt 3.0 update.
If those new applications work, Husband 1.0 should then automatically run the applications Jewellery 2.0 and Flowers 3.2.  However, overuse of the above application can cause Husband 1.0 to default to Grumpy Silence 2.5, Happy Hour 7.0 or Beer 6.1. Do not attempt to reinstall the Boyfriend 5.0 program. This is an unsupported application and will crash Husband 1.0
In summary, Husband 1.0 is a great program, but it has limited memory and cannot learn new applications quickly but with the right plug-ins will provide you with many years of pleasure. Good luck! - Tech Support

Distractions for the bored...

Sound familiar?

Research shows that those at the cutting edge who find themselves between a rock and a hard place after someone has moved the goalposts should not give a knee jerk reaction. Life's a bitch, but it's not a train smash and it's no use crying over spilt milk! They should park off, remember that it ain't over till the fat lady sings and that in actual point of fact, when the going gets tough, the tough get going. At this particular moment in time, it's a new ball game... a whole new can of worms; they've got to put people on the ground at grass roots level, begin by leveling out the playing fields and see who comes to the party. The bottom line is, if they give it their best shot and don't drop the ball, they'll find themselves on a roll and soon be flavour of the month. Then they can say, "Been there, done that, sent the postcard, bought the T-shirt.

 On medical grounds

The patient has been depressed ever since she began seeing me in 1995.

The patient was released without dressing.

Discharge status: Alive but without permission.

The patient has no history of suicides.

The patient was in his usual good health until his airplane ran out of fuel and crashed.

The patient ate a little jelly and vomited a trifle.

The patient experienced sudden onset of severe shortness of breath while having sex which gradually deteriorated in the emergency room.

 A contrary language

We'll begin with box and the plural is boxes, but the plural of ox is oxen, not oxes.

Then one is a goose, and two are called geese, yet the plural of mouse is never called meese.

You may find a lone mouse or a whole nest of mice, but the plural of house is houses, not hice.

If the plural of man is always called men, why shouldn't the plural of pan be called pen?

If I ask for a foot and you show me your feet, and I give you the boot, would two be my beet?

If one is a tooth and a set my teeth, why shouldn't the plural of booth be called beeth?

Then one may be that and three would be those, but the plural of cat is cats and not cose.

We speak of a brother and also of brethren, but though we say mother we never say methren.

Masculine pronouns are he, his and him, but imagine the feminine... she, shis and shim.

So English, I fancy you all will agree is the funniest language you ever did see!

Have a beautiful day! Love ~SB

Myth: The Internet Is Making Us Dumber

If you're familiar with the term "sweeping generalizations," this myth is one of them. Any claim that takes on a large entity and attempts to boil it down to a single, simplistic conclusions is bound to be wrong. This is how we end up with stereotypes. Claiming that the internet is making us dumber could have the glimmer of truth under specific circumstances, but so far no research points to any significant 'dumbing' down of the sort.


The reason we find it easy to believe the internet is making us dumber is because, in some ways, it's making us less self-reliant. Our GPS devices navigate for us and we neglect to remember things because we have Google search. That doesn't make us dumber, necessarily, but rather causes us to rely more on transactive memory. This type of memory is actually very useful because it allows us to, in essence, store more data in less space. Instead of remembering the contents of an entire article, we can simple remember the name or a few key words that we can entire into a search engine to pull it up.

This comes with the obvious downside of lacking the full recall for actual information in your brain, which is why many people feel the internet is turning us into idiots. When our access is cut off, suddenly we're bereft of our knowledge because our transactive memories are rendered useless. The reality is, without actual proof that the internet is making us dumber, so far it appears that the entire idea hinges on the evolving manner in which we interact with and access information as opposed to any sort of fact, making this more of a cultural claim than a scientific one.

Myth: Alcohol Kills Brain Cells

A little bit of brain damage goes a long way. If you were actively killing brain cells when consuming alcohol, you'd notice some permanent side effects pretty quickly. Although alcohol does have a significant effect on your brain and body, brain damage isn't a given. You'll have to drink yourself into a coma to go that far.
The proof comes from a 1993 study by Grethe Jensen that matched brain samples from both (deceased) alcoholics and non-alcoholics and found no difference in the density of brain cells. (You can read more about this study here.) What alcohol actually does in inhibit the functionality of brain cells.

What alcohol can and does do to your brain is affect the way your neurons get their firing triggers from glutamate. It infiltrates the glutamate receptors in your synapses, hurting their ability to send off their normal "fire" messages. Alcohol has this impact all across your brain—the parts that control muscles, speech, coordination, judgment, and so on. Keep that in mind the next time you or someone else claims that they drive, golf, or otherwise perform some task better with alcohol's help.

In the end, you just need to worry more about your choices than the lifespan of your brain.

God Bless and grant you fortitude for temperance ~ SB

IT'S MY BIRTHDAY?

As you well know, we are getting closer to My birthday. Every year there is a celebration in My honour and I think that this year the celebration will be repeated. During this time there are many people shopping for gifts, there are many radio announcements, TV c

ommercials, and in every part of the world everyone is talking that My 

birthday is getting closer and closer.

It is really very nice to know, that at least once a year, some people

think of Me. As you know, the celebration of My birthday began many

years ago. At first people seemed to understand and be thankful of all

that I did for them, but in these times, no one seems to know the

reason for the celebration. Family and friends get together and have a

lot of fun, but they don't know the meaning of the celebration.

I remember that last year there was a great feast in My honour. The

dinner table was full of delicious foods, pastries, fruits, assorted

nuts and chocolates. The decorations were exquisite and there were

many, many beautifully wrapped gifts. But, do you want to know

something? I wasn't invited. I was the Guest of Honour and they didn't

remember to send Me an invitation.

The party was for Me, but when that great day came, I was left outside; 

they closed the door in my face.... And I wanted to be with them and

share their table. In truth, that didn't surprise Me because in the

last few years all close their doors to Me. Since I wasn't invited, I

decided to enter the party without making any noise. I went in and

stood in a corner. They were all drinking; there were some who were

drunk and telling jokes and laughing at everything.

They were having a grand time. To top it all, this big fat man all

dressed in red wearing a long white beard entered the room yelling

Ho-Ho-Ho! He seemed drunk. He sat on the sofa and all the children

ran to him, saying: "Santa Claus, Santa Claus”, as if the party were

in his honour!

At 12 Midnight all the people began to hug each other; I extended My

arms waiting for someone to hug Me and ... do you know ... no one hugged Me. Suddenly they all began to share gifts. They opened them one by one with great expectation. When all had been opened, I looked to see

if, maybe, there was one for Me.

What would you feel if on your birthday everybody shared gifts and you 

did not get one? 

I then understood that I was unwanted at that party and 

quietly left.

Every year it gets worse. People only remember to eat and drink, the gifts, the parties and nobody remembers Me. I would like this Christmas that you allow Me to enter into your life. I would like that you recognize the fact that almost two thousand years ago I came to this world to give My life for you, on the cross,

to save you.

Today, I only want that you believe this with all your heart. I want

to share something with you. As many didn't invite Me to their party,

I will have my own celebration, a grandiose party that no one has ever

imagined, a spectacular party. I'm still making the final arrangements.

Today I am sending out many invitations and there is an invitation for

you. I want to know if you wish to attend and I will make a

reservation for you and write your name with golden letters in My great

guest book.

Only those on the guest list will be invited to the party. Those who don't answer the invitation will be left outside. Be prepared because when all is ready you will be part of My great party.

See you soon. I Love you! ~ Jesus.

Gotta luv it..!

All creatures great and small...

Tips of the Slung

Rear deeders, how your beds...                   Let us salute the eponymous master of the verbal somersault, the Reverend William Archibald Spooner. He left us all a legacy of laughter. He also gave the dictionary a new entry: spoonerism. The very word brings a smile. It refers, of course, to the linguistic flip-flops that turn ‘a well-oiled bicycle’ into ‘a well- boiled icicle’ and other ludicrous ways, speakers of English get their mix all talked up.

English is fertile soil for spoonerisms, because our language has more than four times as many words as any other - approx 750 000 and growing at 500 a year. Consequently, there’s a greater chance that any accidental transposition of letters or syllables will produce rhyming substitutes that still make sense - sort of. Spooner gave us ‘tinglish errors and English terrors at the same time.’

Born in 1844 in London, Spooner became an Anglican priest and a scholar. During a 60-year association with Oxford University, he lectured in history, philosophy and divinity. From 1876 to 1889 he served as a dean and from 1903 to 1924 as warden, or president. Spooner was an albino, small, with a pink face, poor eyesight and a head too large for his body. His reputation was that of a genial, kindly, hospitable man. He seems also to have been somewhat of an absent-minded professor. He once invited a faculty member to tea “to welcome our new archaeology Fellow.” “But, sir,” the man replied, “I am our new archaeology Fellow.”
“Never mind,” Spooner said, “come all the same.”

After a Sunday service he turned back to the pulpit and informed his student audience: “In the sermon I have just preached, whenever I said Aristotle, I meant St Paul.” But Spooner was no feather-brain. In fact his mind was so nimble, his tongue couldn’t keep pace. The Greeks had a word for this type of impediment long before Spooner was born: metathesis. It means the act of transposing or swapping things around. Is not spoonerism a more playful word? It means the same thing.
Reverend Spooner’s tendency to get words and sounds mixed up could happen at any time, but especially when he was agitated. He reprimanded one student for ‘fighting a liar in the quadrangle’ and another who ‘hissed my mystery lecture.’ To the latter he added in disgust, ‘You have tasted two worms.’

Patriotic fervour also excited Spooner. He raised this toast to Her Highness Victoria: ‘Three cheers for our queer old dean!’ During the First World War he reassured his students, ‘When our boys come home from France, we will have the hags flung out.’ And he lionized Britain’s farmers as ‘noble tons of soil.’
His goofs at chapel were legendary. “Our Lord is a shoving leopard,” he once intoned. He quoted I Corinthians 13:12 as, ‘For now we see through a dark, glassly…’ (For you lazy lot; lol – the verse actually reads: “For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.”) Officiating at a wedding, he prompted a hesitant bridegroom, “Son, now it is kisstomary to cuss the bride.” And to a stranger seated in the wrong place: “I believe you’re occupewing my pie. May I sew you to another sheet?”

Although he might simply have been concealing a dry wit, all of the professor’s slips seem to have been accidental. So if you come across one with too much meaning, it’s probably not authentic. For instance, ‘a scoop of boy trouts’ for ‘a troop of boy scouts’ seems contrived and was probably invented by one of his students. A sign in a tavern notes: ‘Our customers enter optimistically and leave misty optically'. That’s beautiful, but it was obviously contrived. Here’s another often attributed to Dorothy Parker: ‘I’d rather have a bottle in front of me than a frontal lobotomy.’ That’s genius. Did Spooner really say, ‘Which of us has not felt in his heart a half-warmed fish?’ He certainly could have - he was trying to say ‘half-formed wish.’

A few more offers; (probably) authentic spoonerisms:  At a naval review Spooner marvelled at ‘this vast display of cattle ships and bruisers.’ To a school official’s secretary: ‘Is the bean dizzy?’ Visiting the country cottage of a friend: ‘You have a nosey little crook here.’

 Two years before his death in 1930 at the age of 86, Spooner told an interviewer that he could recall only one of his trademark fluffs. It was the one he made announcing the hymn “Kinkering Congs Their Titles Take,” meaning to say, “Conquering Kings.” He obviously could have made many others. According to the Oxford English Dictionary, the word “spoonerism” began appearing in colloquial use as early as 1885, when Spooner was 41. Once when a group of students clamoured outside his window for him to make a speech, he called down: “You don’t want to hear a speech; you just want me to say one of those . . . things.”

So if you make a verbal slip, rest easy. Many have. A radio announcer once introduced the US President as Hoobert Heever. And British minister Sir Stafford Cripps was once presented as ‘Sir Stifford Craps’. Thanks to Reverend Spooner’s style-setting somersaults, our own little ‘tips of the slung’ will not be looked upon as the embarrassing babblings of a nitwit, but rather the whimsical lapses of a nimble brain.

So let us applaud that gentle man who lent his ‘tame to the nerm’. He had a habit of ‘spewing up his screech’, but this was a ‘finer malt’ and he was ‘well miked by everyone who let him.’ May ‘sod rest his goal’ lest all this just be 'a lack of pies!'

Thank You God -

in Your wisdom You created such colourful delights for us to enjoy, use and remark upon. ~ SB