Mr. Gunderson awoke sweating, and battling a pulsating noggin. It was the morning after a punk themed Halloween party hosted at his favorite watering hole, The Board Room. Upon gaining consciousness, Mr. Gunderson jolted at the thought that he was 86’d. He struggled to remember if he had danced too erratically while dressed as a unicorn. Continue reading “Mr. Gunderson Gets 86’d”
A box cutter wielding, reverse defragmentation delivering oversized cardboard box Kaiju hero that all environmentalists love…
“Just because you can think it doesn’t necessarily mean it should be conceived.” – Tate.
Intergalactic Bureaucratic Procedures for Handling Sensitive Information
The negative impact of these ideas must be carefully, and properly erased from the Universe. This shall be executed according to the Intergalactic Department of Defense Secure Erase Procedures. The Intergalactic Panel agrees with the Tate, we need to reestablish harmony within, around, through, over, and under the dimensions known and unknown. All information pertaining to the creation of these monstrosities must be gone. No artifacts can be left. Continue reading “Operation Nuke & Pave: Ballistic Payloads and Other Destructive Machinations Disrupting the Universal Harmony. Things Humans Made that Make Really Big Explosions for No Good Reason, and Hurt Beings in General.”
- 3 Days in a Polar Vortex
- Last Day at Pergolesi’s
- Wonderflonium is not an Element
- Two PCs and One DJ
- A Tree is Gonna Tree
- Pandamonium. A Sloth in Disguise
Screamers, a tire, and banana.
Something went wrong with the banana, triggering a ballistic reaction from little Miss Muffet.
Quickly! plan A. Put on her latest favorite distraction, Dreamwork’s “Trolls”.
Shuffle through the array of remote controls from various manufacturers, looking for the matching devices, one for the TV, and one for the Blue Ray. Found the matching remotes, good.
Getting the TV to the correct settings. Pressed the “input” button too many times. Cycle through TV, HDMI1, HDMI2, HDMI3, again. Stop. Blue Ray on, disk in, load, press play.
Finally, the opening scene where Poppi tells the history of Trolls and Bergens begins to assuage Miss Muffet’s outrage at the banana. Whatever was wrong with the fruit will remain an unsolved mystery.
Phew. DEFCON alert status can go back to GREEN.
Just after Poppi gets to the part where the Bergens find there are no Trolls to celebrate Trollstis, Nana returns with Mr. Chaos. She was supposed to be taking Mr. Chaos to his pre-school. I’m thinking, “There’s not going to be a Trollstis this morning”.
Nana, “Tire’s flat.”
I’m not awake.
Nana’s had her morning coffee, her morning news.
She’s rattling off what we need to do about the tire.
Nana, “Put on the spare. Take it down to Midas…” I’m still not quite conscious.
Nana, “Do you want to stay here with the kids? I can take it to get the tires replaced.”
On any other day, Nana doesn’t leave the house, except for her ritual grocery shopping. I know she’s asking if I want to stay with kids because it will jolt me out of my slumber.
“No!” I blurt as I get up from the couch, mumbling and cursing her car’s tires and crappy rims.
Go to my cell on the second floor to seek tranquility while I wash away the seeds of slumber with a cup of coffee.
I’m not a morning person. I need the caffeine to take hold before I go out into the 33 degree F environment, to change a tire, or two. Most likely two tires. This isn’t the first time those tires have gone flat. Hopefully not two because there’s only one spare. In fact, its become a habit to pack the car with the portable air compressor.
“It’s those God damn rims. I know it is.”
Nana’s choice of vehicles tend to create a plague of misfortune and is something to explore, but not this morning.
I smolder over the fact that I have chosen to let my Subaru slumber in “Non-operational Status” because once again the tires on Nana’s vehicle are flat.
Quite frequently I think about designing some gadget, gizmo, doohickey, or method, either for fun, efficiency, utility, or to see if I could do it and would it work. The issue with generating ideas is keeping them organized. I have only so much mental memory space, so when some brainchild is conceived I write it down on the nearest scrap of paper. I put it in my pocket, hopefully remembering it before it makes it to the wash, so that I can transfer it to a centralized location for later retrieval.
Next issue. The ideas never make it to a centralized location. I have an obsession/addiction for office products; therefore, I have multiple notebooks, folders, and file organizers. At least I try to put these ideas somewhere, but it’s not systemized. A recent culling of obsolete papers, I found a folder I created called “Method Development: SPE Waxes”. Years have gone by since I last worked on developing chromatography methods. Upon sight, it was like memories unzipped. It’s also a reminder that while I have to spend much of mental energy on work for someone else, some of these never get finished because as time passes there is no need to continue with the project. It’s a circle jerk, where I’d like to be working on innovations, but there are only so many hours in the day, or the part you are waiting for is coming from China and before you get it you’re life gets interrupted, yada yada yada. Anyways, as I try to be organized, I’ve found that I have an organization strategy somewhat like a squirrel.
Peculiarities. I prefer hardcover 5 x 5 quad lab notebooks, but they’re kind of expensive, so I never have enough of them. I’d like to have a separate notebook for each contrivance I start to research, design, develop because I never know how many pages will be necessary. I dislike skipping x number of pages to a start researching a new idea, only to come back to the other and run out of pages before the idea is complete. There is also the problem of I’ve stepped away from one project because I got stuck, and then some time later the possible next step occurs to me, but I can’t remember which notebook I put it in because each notebook shares several projects.
And I really must stop here, for now, because I have other things to do. Like make more lists on random pieces of paper.
To whom this may concern:
It was brought to my attention that you are rummaging around the internet, scouting for viral creators. After scrutinizing your company’s website, I measure, you are not soliciting the garden variety virologist. If you need someone to spawn submicroscopic, parasitic particles of genetic material contained in a protein coat, I can be of utility.
I too aspire to someday be amongst a squad of binary wizards. Until then. Thank you.