The next time you find yourself arguing with a fool, remember…
From The Dhammapada:
If a fool be associated with a wise man even all his life, he does not perceive the truth even as a spoon does not perceive the taste of soup.
38 hours, 16 minutes and counting until the Galileo space probe goes screaming into the Jovian atmosphere at 108,000 miles per hour.
Galileo mission recap:
2.9 Billion miles traveled
First spacecraft to rendezvous with an asteroid
First glimpse of a tiny “moon” orbiting an asteroid
Sent home dynamite pictures of the Shoemaker-Levy impacts
Detected a salt water ocean under the moon Europa
Now, in order to keep from accidentally contaminating a moon (like Europa) with any stowaway Earth germs, NASA/JPL has flung the craft on a collision course with a planet so massive that its core is believed to contain metallic liquid hydrogen.
So long, Galileo. Now, it’s on to Saturn with the Cassini-Huygens probe. And if you thought the Europa fly-by was cool, just wait until we land on Titan!
I’ve just gotten back from a trip outside to see this whole big Mars thing. I’m pretty sure I saw it. I just looked for the brightest thing in the sky that was not a moon. And as that object happened to be in the southeast (as Mars is wont to be at 10:00pm at this time of year), I’m just going to call that object “Mars” and consider it good and seen.
Earthlings have historically had quite a fascination with Mars. To ancient astronomers, Mars would certainly have been significant. Firstly, it is red. Secondly, these astute observers would surely have noticed that Mars moves around quite a lot in comparison to the far-flung stars and galaxies that appear as its neighbors from our vantage. Much later, magnification in the form of early telescopes would reveal the mysterious Martian geography that has made the planet a favorite of science fiction writers and enthusiasts ever since. The surface of Mars is a rugged, pock-marked wasteland of deep canyons and massive extinct volcanos covered in iron oxide, which we Earthlings revile as rust. In short, Mars ain’t no kind of place to raise a kid.
In today’s urban light-pollution, Mars is normally quite difficult to see. Its color and relatively diminuitive size compound to make it a rather unassuming little pink dot in our night sky. So it is no wonder that I never really noticed Mars until my father (from whom I inherited my science and technology geekdom) showed it to me on my 12th or 13th birthday in the telescope he bought me as a present. Even then, the red planet revealed itself only as a glowing orange dot. Still I was transfixed. We spent quite some time out there in the backyard with that telescope, a flashlight, a compass, and a couple basic star charts. We took turns pointing that telescope all over the sky, and laughing about Martians, and dreaming of the possibilities of interstellar travel. My relationship with my father was often tenuous and difficult, but in that moment we were just two earthbound idiots with our heads in the stars.
I have to admit that today I take Mars largely for granted. Even as our closest planetary neighbor passes within a scant 34.6 million miles (merely 3 light-minutes away), I’ve scarsely thought about it. But I imagine that some other kid is out past his bedtime with his dad wondering what all of the fuss is about. And maybe, like me, he’ll go to bed a different person.
Hang on to those moments, kid. They pass all too quickly.
…I think I’m going to go outside for another look.
Bye for now.
I know that a lot of you will disagree with me on this, but I’m going to discuss one of my favorite applications of modern technology. Draw what conclusions you will about this, but I think it’s great when technology means I don’t have to deal with people. OK - so it’s not really that I don’t ever want to deal with people. It’s just that in 2003 I think it’s great that I get to choose when I want to deal with people, and when I don’t.
I love that I can check my bank balance without talking to anyone. I love those automated call systems that let me push buttons rather than dealing with operators. I can plan a vacation without talking to a travel agent. It’s not that I have anything against travel agents, or that they don’t provide a useful service. It’s just that I’d rather do the searching myself and save all the pleasantries. And as for shopping… I almost never set foot in a mall.
Tonight I ordered a pizza… over the Internet. I built my pizza on a web page, and in about half an hour, someone brought it to my home. Until recently, I had to call for pizza using the telephone. Such transactions usually went something like this.
(phone rings several times)
Pizzeria Employee: Mumblemumblepizza, hold.
Me: (holding)
P.E.: thankmumbleholding, pickupordelivery…
Me: Delivery, please
P.E.: (silence)
Me: …
P.E.: …
Me: …
P.E.: yes?
Me: Ah… I have a coupon for a large two-topping pizza for $10.99. I’d like pepperoni and sausage.
P.E.: What size?
Me: Umm… the coupon is for a large pizza
P.E.: Large pepperoni?
Me: …and sausage.
P.E.: Mumblemumblefourteenninetynine
Me: The coupon is for $10.99
P.E.: Coupon?
…and on and on. And as if that is not bad enough, I hear that people once had to order pizza in person and drive it home themselves.
Some people get nostalgic for those times. Apparently there is a section of the population that just wants to deal with people all the time. I can respect that - even though I can’t really understand it. I’m sitting here trying to come up with some sort of receptacle that receives the pizza from the delivery driver, so I don’t even have to open the door. Is that strange? Am I displaying latent agoraphobic tendencies when I consider shaving my head so I don’t have to go to the barber shop? There are only two topics of conversation in a barber shop - weather and sports. I’m no meteorologist. And admitting that I don’t follow sports… I might as well prance into the chair in a pink leotard.
Thank you for calling the barber shop.
For weather-related chit-chat, press one.
For sports talk, press two.
To get nicked in the ear by the razor while the barber is watching college basketball on the black-and-white TV, press three.
To conclude this blog entry, press four followed by the pound sign.
4#
I found this great article in Scientific American magazine about parallel universes. The gist of the whole thing is that, logically, in an infinite universe, such as our own universe is postulated to be, the infinite must be possible. More accurately, the infinite must not only be possible, but must actually exist. This is to say that, in an infinite multiverse, there must be exact copies of you living on other worlds, living any number of permutations of your life. There must also be a planet dominated by monkey-people who wear kilts and speak Japanese with a lisp.
So that begs the question, what kinds of alternate lives are my alter-egos living out there? Not our kilt-wearing monkey alter-egos; they’re busy dipping sushi in ketchup and listening to Britney Spears backwards (hey, it’s an infinite universe afterall). I’m talking about any number of doppelgängers living lives that are almost exactly like ours, but just slightly different.
For example, on some world out there, voodootime.com is wildly successful, attracting thousands of visitors everyday. And my alter-ego writes fascinating articles everyday that make people laugh and ponder the fundamental truths of their mortal existence. Other than that, my doppelgänger’s life is exactly the same as mine. And you all live in that world too - maybe with a different job, or a different spouse, or better hair. Maybe your double hates animals, or is an excellent gardener, or has bad taste in furniture. In various alternate worlds, you’re an acrobat, or a musician, or an astrophysicist, or a beggar, or a king.
So whoever you are on this world, be it prince, pauper, scholar, or fool, chances are you’re just somewhere in the middle of infinite extremes. No matter how good or bad you think you have it, any number of your intergalactic doubles are doing far better or worse than you are here. On some world, you’ll live to be 115 years old. On another world, you’re already dead.
So, take a moment to consider your infinite potential. Everything we do affects everything that comes after. In a universe where monkeys play bagpipes on the moors, certainly we can all become more than we are now. And if you can tap that potential, someday, if you ever meet yourself from another world, you can stick your tongue out at him/her and call him/her a big loser.
Bye for now.
I have serious writer’s block. Big time. I can’t think of anything remotely humorous to write about at the moment. So I decided to share a little about myself for those of you who are interested.
If you are not interested, mail me something funny that i can plagiarize.
In the meantime…
My name is Justis.
People used to make fun of my name when I was a kid. Now they don’t so much.
I am in my mid-twenties.
I live in Los Angeles.
I got married in July of 2002.
I graduated from a California State University with a major in Computer Information Systems.
I changed my major to CIS from Computer Science because I don’t like math so much.
I like physics a lot. But there’s a bit too much math involved.
I work as a Network Administrator.
I speak a little bit of Spanish, but I’ve forgotten a lot of grammar since high school. Quizás un día, tomaré otra clase para recordarme.
I wrote my first computer program when I was 10. My dad bought me a computer for Christmas instead of a Nintendo. I’ve been a geek ever since.
Is geekdom learned or inherited? My father was a geek. My mom, not so much.
I grew up in a bad neighborhood. I didn’t spend a whole lot of time outdoors. I watched a lot of TV.
I’m not a very good athlete.
I don’t watch sports on TV. But I confess that I have sometimes read the Sports page of the newspaper in case someone brings it up in conversation.
At some point in my life I have wanted to be one of the following “when I grow up”: firefighter, police officer, Jedi Knight, astronaut, journalist, attorney, judge, doctor, President of the United States, video game designer, fighter pilot, rock musician, computer programmer, senator, chef, cartoonist, author, stand-up comedian
I think a lot about going back to school for a post-graduate degree, but at this point, the thought of taking even one more final exam makes me queasy.
I don’t watch much television, but when I do it’s usually educational.
Politically, when I was younger I was very conservative (I owned two of Rush Limbaugh’s books). Now I am equally disgusted by both political parties.
I believe that people should be able to do whatever they want as long as they don’t hurt others or infringe upon other people’s freedoms. For example, I am in favor of peaceful protest as long as protestors do not block traffic or verbally abuse others.
I feel that compassion is the most noble human trait.
I crack my knuckles.
I spend too much time in front of computers.
I like British comedy.
I have never left the United States. I’m not proud of that.
I don’t like to fly.
I really like 80’s pop-metal.
I’m shy around strangers.
I sometimes worry that other people think I’m a dork.
Sometimes I worry that I really am a dork.
I have never fired a gun.
I am a Merinthophobe - I can’t stand being restrained, and I have been this way for as long as I can remember.
I like monkeys.
I hate listening to people that ain’t got good grammar.
I am a connoisseur of peanut butter and root beer.
I’ve been known to be a bit gullible.
When the moon is full, I become a werehamster. It’s not as cool as it sounds.
Godspeed, Columbia:
Capt. David Brown: 04/16/1956 - 02/01/2003
Col. Rick Husband: 07/12/1957 - 02/01/2003
Dr. Laurel Clark: 03/10/1961 - 02/01/2003
Dr. Kalpana Chawla: 07/01/1961 - 02/01/2003
Lt. Col. Michael Anderson: 12/25/1959 - 02/01/2003
Cmdr. William McCool: 09/23/1961 - 02/01/2003
Col. Ilan Ramon: 06/20/1954 - 02/01/2003
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the origin and purpose of humor. How did it develop? What purpose does it serve? In Isaac Asimov’s short story “Jokester“, a man discovered that the origin of humor could be traced to an experiment on human beings conducted by an alien race. The catch was, if any human ever found out, the experiment would be ceased immediately.
But let’s, for the sake of argument, suppose that humor is not of extraterrestrial origin. Is humor then just a random tangent of evolution? Or, has humor somehow contributed to our success as a species?
I like to think it’s the latter. Humor is an amazingly efficient community-builder. There are few ways to endear oneself to others faster than by making them laugh. After all, in study after study, women cite a well-developed sense of humor as the most highly desirable personality trait in a potential mate. Men also desire a healthy sense of humor in their mate (as a close second to “big boobies”, of course).
On the other hand, I concede that the former theory is just as plausible. In spite of ourselves, one of the funniest things in the world is when someone (else) gets hurt. On the surface, this does not seem conducive to the survival of a species. Like the human tailbone, it could be that humor is purely vestigial; a throwback to a behavior that used to be important to early humanoids for some now unknown reason. Maybe laughter, directed at the village idiot, focused the community’s attention on behaviors that were likely to result in injury - ensuring that they learn from the mistakes of others. Or it could be that humor is an inborn pity response. Since the idiot supplies entertainment to the community, there is a selfish motivation for preserving the safety of the idiot rather than leaving his goofy ass out for the wolves. This would explain the continued existence of idiots over these hundreds of thousands of years of human evolution.
So when did humor cease to be the exclusive domain of idiots? I suspect it’s become a social cameleon move. In human society, there are only a few surefire ways to get people to like you:
1. Be beautiful - Good-looking people get attention, and are generally well-liked regardless of personality.
2. Be large - Larger, stronger people are the warriors and protectors. Even if they’re complete jerks, it pays to have one or two on your side.
3. Be a relative - We feel a sort of responsibility to those who share a common bloodline - no matter how stupid they are.
4. Be funny.
Only one of these traits is not inborn. If you are otherwise unremarkable, the best way to get attention is to make people laugh. I suspect that intelligent people eventually picked up on this. Smart cavemen probably did not win a lot of friends by chatting around the fire about quantum physics. Smart people only impress other smart people by being intelligent. Primeval nerds might have understood that talking about idiots evoked the same reaction as actually being one - only without the stigma. Thus the comedian was born.
With this in mind, it seems that all comedy really comes down to the exposure of foolishness. After all, the best jokes are all about misunderstandings that expose foolishness. These can be in the first-, second-, third-person, or hypothetical.
First-person: “A guy came up to me and said, ‘I haven’t had a bite in weeks.’ so I bit him.”
Second-person: “Did you know the word ‘gullible‘ isn’t in the dictionary?”
Third-person: “So, this guy walks into a bar…”
Hypothetical: “I just flew in from New York, and boy, are my arms tired.”
See? All foolishness and absurdity. But there are exceptions. For instance, why are bodily functions funny? A lot of people (our mothers, grandmothers, and wives) like to pretend that they’re not, but in reality, deep down inside, everyone thinks boogers and farts are funny on some level. It might be that the baser boldily functions are funny because only a fool would perform them around others. I’m not sure about that though. I suspect that farts are funny because they’re magic.
So, in the end, humor is all about farts and fools. Kind of like this website.
Bye for now.
Spending time over the holidays with family, including a young cousin, made me think a little about how many things change between childhood and adulthood. Now, don’t leave. I’m not about to wax poetic about the blissful naïveté of youth or anything so cliché. There also will be no further usage of words containing accents or umlauts.
What I’m talking about are things I am no longer inclined to do in my “old age”. Somewhere between the ages of 2 and 25 years, I lost certain urges that, when viewed with adult eyes, no longer hold the attraction they once held. This is a little disheartening. I don’t know about anyone else, but as a child I made certain promises to myself. I considered one of these promises to be the most holy and sacred of all. As a child, I promised myself that I would eat ice cream for dinner everyday of my adult life.
I have not kept this promise. In fact, I am fairly sure that I have yet to eat ice cream for dinner even once. Six-year-old Justis would be so disappointed if he knew.
This reminds me of a terrible joke a friend’s adult brother played on us once when I was young. We were at a supermarket with him, and as we drooled our way down the candy aisle, he stopped us and said “Guys, see all this candy?”
We acknowledged our awareness of the candy with a slack-jawed nod.
He continued, “I can afford to buy one of each of these candies, and someday so will you.” We drooled some more. “But, ” he added, “when that day comes, you won’t want to eat candy anymore.” And he was basically right.
The very thought of one of my usual pre-teen candy binges makes my mouth pucker and my stomach roil out a warning against any such foolishness. Gone forever are the days of ice cream dinners. The means are there, but the motivation is gone. I once chose breakfast cereals based solely upon the value of the toy inside the box. But these days, dietary fiber is its own reward.
After a quarter-century, I am a mere shell of my former self. I can no longer spin around in circles without vomiting. I do not get up early on Saturday mornings, unless I’ve foolishly agreed to drive someone to the airport.
Tomorrow I’m eating ice cream for dinner. Then I’m going to stay up all night.
You’re not the boss of me.
Bye for now.
I went out and bought The Sims - Deluxe Edition a couple days ago for my PC. I figured I already have enough fighting and killing games, so something a bit more pacifistic in nature might be a nice change of pace. If you’re not familiar with the game, it’s basically about making a little virtual person (called, appropriately enough, a “sim”), giving him/her somewhere to live, and micromanaging his/her life. You control when your little virtual people eat, sleep, bathe, and even go to the bathroom. You wake them up for work in the morning and make sure they aren’t late for the carpool. You make them clean their house. You can buy them new furniture or redecorate their house. You can even control their social calendar and bring other little virtual people over for virtual dinner parties.
About two hours into this, I realized I had been suckered. I was sitting at the computer playing a game in which I had to do all the things I hate doing in real life! I was making a little computer person make his bed, take out the trash, water plants, and wash dishes. How is this fun? What is there about this to enjoy? In fact, a full Sim day lasts about 15 minutes of real time. So in two hours, I had already done some eight days worth of housework. In real life, it takes me well over eight days to do eight days worth of housework.
This whole idea has become so odd to me, that I’ve come up with my own term for it - retroescapism. Escapism is a sort of pejorative term for that attraction we sometimes have towards the romantic, the fantastic, the extraordinary. As we enter our third “TV Generation”, escapism is more a part of daily life than ever before. There seems to be a neo-escapist movement - retroescapism - attempting to escape traditional escapism. Instead of reverting back to reality, retroescapists end up simulating reality instead.
Evidence of this irony is all over. AOL’s biggest hit was the instant chat. Though by no means exclusive to AOL, they were able to get people to pay over $20 per month to sit around at home alone and talk to other people over the Internet. If you just step outside once in a while you could do this for free. And what of reality TV? Somehow, watching people interact on TV has become more entertaining than interacting with people in one’s own home. Even more ironically, it has become fashionable to invite people over just to sit and watch these shows together.
And, lest you think these are fringe movements, let me share the numbers. Reality television programs consistently rate very high. “Survivor” was #1 during both of its first two seasons. “Big Brother” continues to be a phenomenon all across Europe. AOL, with advertisements emphasizing its online “chat” features, is the number one Internet service provider (ISP) in the world. The Sims is the number one best-selling computer game of all time.
Speaking of The Sims, we are mere months away from an online, multiplayer version of the game. In The Sims Online a player will be able to make his/her own little sim and live online with other people’s sims. It’s going to be great! I mean, you could talk to other sims, invite other sims over for dinner, have friendships and love affairs. It’ll be totally like real life! The critics are ecstatic.
They say we’ve never seen anything like this before.
First I laughed. Then I thought they just might be right.
Bye for now.