Hemispherical Arrogance?

I had an interesting thought the other day. I have seen many maps, and anytime I see a map it is oriented the same way. Maps are always oriented with the Northern side on the top. Is there a reason for this? Is it something to do with magnetic North or some other scientific something or other? If you lived somewhere below the equator, wouldn't you want the Southern side to be on top of your map? Aren't you offended? Wouldn't you want to see your half of the world on top? Is it Northern hemispherical arrogance that is to blame for this "standard" orientation of maps? Did you notice that I displayed this arrogance earlier when I made a reference to "below the equator"? Doesn't what is below the equator depend on what side of the equator you are actually on? Why isn't South ever on top?

For that matter, why isn't the Western or Eastern hemisphere, or anything in between, ever on the top of the map?

I envision a map that looks like the above. This is just fair, no?

Original map found at: http://www.eere.energy.gov/greenpower/buying/buying_power.shtml?&print

Thanksgiving

Things for which I am grateful (2007 version)



1. Football

2. Fish (for eating, apparently, they are good for me. (something about Omega...Acids, or something))

3. Racquetball

4. Oxygen

5. Good movies (Bourne Ultimatum at the top this year.)

6. Entertaining Books. (HP7 I am looking in your direction this year.)

7. The funny signs that homeless guy that stands near the 13th East exit makes.

8. Remodeling (grateful for the end result, NOT the process.)

9. The king of meats, sausage.

10. Vacations


Disclaimer: Of course I am thankful for my family, job, faith etc., but those things make a less interesting list. (I guess I am assuming that the items I did include on the list are interesting, which may be a bad assumption, but whatever. It's my list and I can do what I want.)

Wrong

Other wrong things:



Crossing the velvet rope barriers at museums.


Punching clowns.


Spiking the punch.


Smashing all the potato chips in the bag.


Yelling obscenities while your friend is teeing off.


Forgetting to wash your hands after using the restroom.


Announcie the end or plot details of movies to those in line to see the film.


Starting a fight at an office party.


Wearing a tuxedo to a backyard barbecue.


Bringing a knife to a gun fight.

Gotta love microbes

http://www.newsweek.com/id/57368

You see! I knew that it was a good idea for me to be a slob. It keeps my family healthy and more resistant to disease. Hooray! So much for the ultrasanitized lifestyle. Germs are good.

This was a very interesting article that described the relationship between bacteria and other microbes and our bodies, and the importance of that relationsip. Being overly clean and sanitary, especially while children are young, can actually have a negative effect because we are not colonized by certain helpful types of microbes, and can become more susceptible to certain types of diseases, including autoimmune diseases and even cancer. An interesting read, and some interesting research going on right now.

Spelunking in REM

I have several recurring dreams that revolve around caves. There are three that come to mind.

The first involves a trip to a hole in the ground, from which I descend, with several others, none of whom I know (though at least one person, a man, is always there), into a vast cavern. Once you reach the bottom, there is much to explore, though the details of any exploring escape my memory. Mostly I remember that I get to the hole, go down, wander around a bit, and come back up. This one is quite tame.

The second involves a cave which I have also visited many times, sometimes with others, such as my family, sometimes with strangers, and sometimes alone. I don't remember much about the mouth of the cave, most of what I remember from these dreams is that the cave is huge, and is a lost/abandoned city. I remember taking trips to grocery stores where anything you want can be taken from the shelves. I remember visting the house of a really creepy, mysterious, old lady who still lived in the cave. I remember there being dangerous paths and crossings, and various determinations to find things of importance.

The third repeated itself again last night. In this dream, I remember clearly the hike to the mouth of the cave. Last night, I was the first to get there. When I got there, I realized that I had nothing to drink. In my dream, I remembered that the last time that I had been there (in reality the last time I had dreamed that I had been there), I had had a backpack with a water bottle. Fortunately, there is a convenience store at the top of the mountain where the cave mouth is. I went in, and was considering a gatorade, but they were quickly snatched up by other shoppers. Fortunately, I found a nice water bottle on a shelf and purchased it. In this dream, I remember the mouth of the cave, I remember my drinking needs, and then I am all of the sudden in the cave, on my back, fighting off lunging tigers or leopards or something, which are trying to get at the food that is covering me. I don't know what kind of food, or where it came from, only that I can get them off of me by grabbing their heads, and using my legs to heave them off of a cliff. Last night, I fended off dozens of animals, and remembered that last time I had been in the cave (or the last time that I dreamed it), that I had been pleasantly surprised that I had only had to fight off one tiger/leopard/creature.

Gotta love dreams.

On a completely unrelated cave note, did anyone see this?

http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2007/04/photogalleries/giant-crystals-cave/index.html

Ekeltricity

It is the classic saying "You don't know what you got till it's gone" that applies to my Tuesday night. There were severe thunderstorms/microburst winds/etc. throughout the area on Tuesday night, and my electricity went out at 6:30 pm. I knew that it was out before I got home, because I saw a downed power line around the corner from my house being watched over by a fire truck.

Life without electricity is miserable. We had two lanterns going when it got dark, but there are really limited ways of entertaining yourself when the lights are out. We played board games until it got dark, and that was fine, but then what? Sing songs? Practice interpretive dancing? Scrapbook by candlelight? No thanks. I played monopoly on my cellphone until the battery died, then I laid there in the dark/heat/humidity and did absolutely nothing but get angry at the power company and attempt to sell my soul to the devil if he would turn my bedside fan on. (It didn't work.) My wife had gone to work, and my kids had gone to bed, so there wasn't even anyone to talk to.

I used my iPod to get to sleep, but without my fan, I was sleeping restlessly and overheated. The power did not come on again until a little after 2am, and when my lights and fan kicked on, I was a happy boy.

I think it's a little bit crazy that my power should be off for nearly 8 hours in the year 2007, and that I couldn't get any sort of area specific update from the power company's useless telephone system, but what are you gonna do.

Electricity, I love you.

Homicular Vehicide

Apparently, I have the automotive touch of death. Two cars in the last week have fallen victim to my curse.

The first was an innocent, and brand new, van. I purchased a Toyota Sienna on Aug. 2. On Aug. 4, I drove that new van into a suburban. The front of the van was crumpled and they had to tow my van away. Wrecking a new vehicle within 48 hours of purchasing it is not a pleasant experience. That van had less than 300 miles on it.

Despite how weird that wreck was, I did not suspect that anything was out of the ordinary. I assumed that it was just a freak accident and that all was well.

I got a rental car to drive while the van was being repaired. It was a 2007 Nissan Altima. It was a nice car, I enjoyed driving it. I picked it up on Monday morning and drove it all week. On Friday, my wife drove the Altima to work. When she was 2/3 of the way there, the car stalled and would not drive. She called me and I came and picked her up and took her to work. I then had to go back to the vehicle and wait for the tow truck from the rental company's roadside assistance. When I got back to the Altima, I noticed that smoke was coming from under the hood. Within about 5 minutes, this white smoke turned to black smoke and then became a fire.

By the time the fire truck came and put out the fire, the entire front end of the car had burned. There was no hood, no side panels, no lights, nothing left but the frame and engine block.

Another car bit the dust.

The rental company has now given me a Toyota Prius. I am afraid to drive it. I stayed home most of the day Saturday and Sunday, hoping to shake off the curse. It is now Monday midday. So far So good.

The internet is bad

Despite the fact that I spend at least an hour or two each day perusing my favorite sites on the web, I am a firm believer that the internet is an evil evil entity.

Why? Because it is so much harder now to win freebies. Remember back in the day, when every candy bar or soda that you opened had the potential to win you anything from a million dollars to a free candy bar or soda? You looked under the cap, or inside the wrapper, and you were an instant winner or loser. You knew right away, with no effort on your part, whether or not you had won.

Now, because of the internet, things have changed. Companies have capitalized on technology to save money by taking advantage of at least the lazy people, probably a high percentage of everyone else as well. Now everytime you look under the cap or inside the wrapper, what do you see? A code. A code that requires you to perform the following steps before you find out whether or not you won:

1. You are required to hang on to your GARBAGE until you are by a computer.
2. You have to go to the website indicated.
3. Often you have to create an account complete with password.
4. You have to enter your code.

Then the payoff finally comes. You are not a winner.

I don't know about anyone else, but whenever I see the code, I groan in disgust and throw away my garbage. I almost never go online to check the code. Maybe I could have been a million dollar winner!! Probably not, but at least 10 years ago, I would have known, and known right away.

Lousy Internet.

Yawn.

I have a theory for why people yawn. I go into this explanation with the recognition that there is probably already a reason why people yawn, but if there is already a known reason, I haven't heard about it.

You know how pleasant it is to stretch your muscles? When you get up in the morning, when you get up after spending a significant amount of time at your computer, when you get out of the car after a long drive? You just stretch out and work all those muscles and it feels great. It is therapeutic.

I think that yawning is a stretch for our insides. You open that mouth wide, stretch out the lungs, tummy, etc. Good times. It is stretching for our insides.

Rhinotillexomania

Are we all a bunch of nose pickers? I recently read about a study that indicated that most adults do pick their nose. The frequency differs from person to person. Some, who pick upwards of 2-3 hours a day or more, have a clinical disorder. This brought a couple of questions to my mind.

What factors determine who picks and how much and when?

Does it depend on the climate where you live? Does it make a difference if its humid or dry, cold or warm? Does it depend on the season? More picking in the winter? More picking in North America, Canada, Africa, France?

Of one thing I can be sure. Pollution matters. I was in the Philippines for a couple of years. When I was living in the more metro, higher population areas, I noticed that my boogers turned black. My snot was polluted. Nice huh? Smoke from camping or fires also turns my boogies black.

Do people pick at the same time every day? In the same place? Always in the car where boogies can be flicked out the window? At night before sleep? Only in the bathroom (Boring)?

Are there boogers that won't come out with a solid blow that require the pick, or is it an issue of tissue availability?

Is it concern for the presence of cliffhangers in social situations that forces a thorough pick before going out in public?

Does it matter how big your shnoz is?

Does booger consistency play a role? Are people more likely to pick out the dry crusties v. the gooey ones?

Does age matter? Are children bigger pickers than adults? Teenagers?

The study also stated that eating boogies was good for the immune system. I don't think it's worth it.

Good ole' Chuck

My favorite 15 Chuck Norris Facts:

1. Chuck Norris can speak Braille.


2. Chuck Norris owns the greatest Poker Face of all-time. It helped him win the 1983 World Series of Poker despite him holding just a Joker, a Get out of Jail Free Monopoly card, a 2 of clubs, 7 of spades and a green #4 card from the game Uno.

3. Chuck Norris puts the laughter in Manslaughter.


4. On a high school math test, Chuck Norris put down “Violence” as every one of the answers. He got an A+ on the test because Chuck Norris solves all his problems with Violence.


5. When the Boogeyman goes to sleep every night, he checks his closet for Chuck Norris.


6. Chuck Norris does not hunt because the word hunting involves the possibility of failure. Chuck Norris goes killing.


7. Superman owns a pair of Chuck Norris pajamas.


8. Chuck Norris can kill two stones with one bird.


9. Death once had a Near-Chuck experience.


10. Chuck Norris keeps his ID on the bottom of his right foot. No one ever asks Chuck Norris for his ID.


11. Chuck Norris once won a game of Connect Four in 3 moves.


12. Chuck Norris’ calendar goes straight from March 31st to April 2nd. No one fools Chuck Norris.


13. Chuck Norris counted to infinity. Twice.


14. A cobra once bit Chuck Norris’ leg. After 5 days of excruciating pain, the cobra died.


15. Chuck Norris is 1/8 Cherokee. This has nothing to do with Ancestry. The man ate a jeep.

Second Place

I took second place in a pie eating contest. Second.



I don't know how this happened. Willis let me down. Bigtime.



My work had a summer solstice celebration on June 21st that featured a pie eating contest. I entered, and, for good reason, was very confident. I have never lost an eating contest of any kind. Ever. I can drink fast, I can eat fast, I can eat large volumes of food. I can even eat large volumes of food fast. There were originally only 5 entrants, though 2 more joined as the contest was beginning. The rules were:



No utensils

No touching the pie (You could touch the pie tin)

Pie and tin stay on the table

First to eat the entire pie wins



You could choose Banana Cream, or chocolate cream, I went with Banana.

As the opening gun sounded, a few of the obvious newbies dove nose first into their pies and started eating way to fast. I was working my way along nicely when someone mentioned an intern who was in the contest. I lookesd over, and his pie was half gone. I was maybe a quarter of the way through my pie. He was sort of cheating because he had partially lifted the pie tin off the table and bent part of it down to get a better angle on the crust. Now, I don't want you to think that I am using this as an excuse, he would probably have beat me regardless, but I did feel a little as though I had been robbed. This put all of us in a higher gear. By the time he had finished, and won, I had eaten all my filling and over half of the crust. I was a clear second place. That kid inhaled his pie. It was crazy. Someone made a comment that a hungry grad student intern could not be matched. That must be the case, because that pie disappeared awfully fast.

So, while I have been humbled, and Willis and I are still not on speaking terms, I did win second place, and recieved a major award for my troubles.


All in the name of pie.

The Chicken and The Egg

There is good news and bad news. The good news is that the question of which came first, the chicken or the egg, has been solved experimentally.

The bad news is that there were two experiments that resulted in opposite answers.

The first experiment involved a geneticist, a philosopher, and a chicken farmer. They reasoned that an animal cannot change its genetic makeup during its own lifetime. Therefore, according to them, the first chicken must have existed with chicken DNA in egg form first. Answer #1: The egg came first.

Link: http://www.cnn.com/2006/TECH/science/05/26/chicken.egg/

Acknowledging that I am not a geneticist, a philosopher, or a chicken farmer, I have one question about this study: Don't some animals unilaterally change their sex during their lifetime? Isn't this an example of an animal changing it's genetic makeup during it's lifetime? Maybe this isn't a genetic change, I don't know.

The second experiment involved a chicken, an egg, and the United States Postal Service. The researcher took a carefully and properly packaged chicken and separately packaged egg to the same post office at the same time and mailed them to the same location some 200 miles away.

The researcher then went to the destination to which he had mailed the packages to see which would arrive first. The chicken was the first to arrive. The egg arrived over 11 hours after the chicken. Answer #2: The chicken came first.

Link: http://www.improbable.com/airchives/paperair/volume9/v9i4/chicken_egg.html

Here I question the statistical accuracy of the experiment. Shouldn't similar experiments have been performed multiple times, and in multiple locations, with multiple points of origin and multiple destinations?

While I applaud the efforts of all those involved, I suppose the waters are just as muddy as ever. We may never know the truth.

The Month of Willis's Discontent

I am, to put it nicely, a chubby white guy. I have a large belly. This belly gets in the way frequently, and I am getting sick of it. My belly has a name.

About 7 years ago, as my belly was still developing, I was working at an apartment complex doing maintenance. One of my buddies there found a cartoon from a newspaper that depicted a man standing, with another little head poking out of the man's stomach. My buddy decided that that was a perfect comparison to my relationship with my belly, and Willis was born.

I did not come up with the name, but it has stuck now for along time. It is sometimes nice, because I now can defer blame for certain of my behaviors.
"It wasn't me, it was Willis."
He has other advantages too.
Because of Willis, I am now eating for two.
Because of Willis, I always have someone to talk to.
Because of Willis, I am a big man.

But there are disadvantages as well.
Because of Willis, I am horribly out of shape.
Because of Willis, my dress shirts strain at the buttons. (I know, not a pleasant image. Sorry.)
Because of Willis, it is difficult for me to resist a really good cheeseburger.

The problem is that Willis is getting cocky. He is trying to take control, and I have to let him know his place. I have decided that it is time for me to inflict some damage on Willis. I doubt that he will ever truly go away, and I am not about to committ a murder. (Especially the murder of a good friend, even if our relationship is a bit rocky.) But I am prepared to force Willis into submission, to make him suffer.

So for the month of June, I am going to diet. I hate that word myself, and it makes Willis absolutely tremble in fear, but it has to happen. I will post my current weight here on Monday, and will post a final result after the month is over.

Wish me luck, and send some negative karma at Willis.

Update:

As of Monday, June 4, I weigh 288 lbs.

Other things

By Request

Things that are right:

Eating less than an entire pie in one sitting.
Not laughing out loud when people fall down.
Signalling a lane change.
Admitting that you have a problem.
Wearing your seatbelt.
Shaving unsightly body hair.
Waiting your turn in line.
Paying your bills on time.
Wearing deodorant.
Saying no to telemarketers twice before hanging up on them.
Deleting chain emails.
Not laughing at inappropriate jokes.
Wearing shoes that are the same color as your belt. (Apparently.)
Refusing the option to supersize your value meal.
Keeping your tires properly inflated.
Excusing yourself after belching.
Turning off the lights when you leave a room.
Updating your blog regularly. (Debatable.)

An open question about oysters

And here it is: Are oysters really food?

And who was the first person to decide that they were?

I know that I have discussed this subject in the past as it concerns eggs, but I think that oysters take the question to a new level.

I was recently having lunch at a seafood restaurant, and someone ordered appetizers for the group. One of the appetisers was blue oysters on the half shell. When it was brought out, I thought it looked intriguing, and I ate one. (I will try anything once.)

A general rule: With enough cocktail sauce, almost anything tastes okay.

It was slimy, chewy, and not particularly pleasant tasting. I am sure that some people like oysters, though I suspect that it is a developed taste.

As I looked closer, I realized what it would take to eat an oyster for the first time. Somebody had to find this rough shell thing in the ocean, crack it open, and decide that it was a good idea to eat the slimy stuff found inside. That seems like several big steps to me. It can't have smelled pleasant, I know it didn't look good. How hungry was that person? Had they seen birds or other animals eating oysters? Were there no fish around? We need answers to these questions.

As for me, I will stick to the crab cakes in the future.

Aging Gracelessly

I turned 31 last week. It would have been no big deal except for the epiphany that I had. It dawned on me rather suddenly that I am 31, married, 2 kids ages 5 and 6, job, mortgage. I am grown up (more or less).

I am no longer allowed to make life changing decisions at the drop of a hat. I can no longer decide to move to another city or get a new job just for a change of scenery (Not that I did this alot before, but it was always at least a possibility). I can no longer stay awake until the wee hours of the morning with no consequences. I no longer possess an iron stomach. I can't eat enormous volumes of food anymore without severe gastrointestinally related punishment.

I can't waste all my income on entertainment and toys anymore. I have to fix the car, fix the sprinklers, buy a kitchen appliance. I can't take a vacation or even a day off on a whim anymore. Everything has to be planned, I have a work schedule, my wife has a work schedule, the kids have school schedules.

I have to mow the lawn and plant flowers. I don't like flowers.

I don't get to spend my Saturday's playing videogames and watching or playing endless hours of football and basketball.

As I said, I can no longer stay awake until 2am without consequences, but even sadder, I can no longer even sleep in until 9 or 10am without consequences.

With this realization that I am no longer a twenty-something, do I:
1. Rage, rage against the dying of the light?
2. Just lay down and take a nap?

Posting under protest

I was recently called out for failing to post more often. I was quick to point out that the title of this blog indicates that my failing to post is to be expected. However, the guilt trip worked, so here I am.

Things that are wrong:

Throwing rocks at squirrels.
Laughing at children when they make mistakes.
Trying to hit bicyclists with your car.
Giving tricks instead of treats.
Making fun of vegetarians and hippies.
Passing gas on crowded elevators.
Laughing at people who are self-conscious.
Throwing stuff at nerds.
Making rude noises in Movie Theaters.
Stealing presents at wedding receptions.
Never signalling the direction that you intend to turn.
Kicking small animals over high fences.
Stealing lunchboxes from children.

Can anyone else think of other things that are wrong?

My seductive mistress: Golf

I played Golf this morning for the first time this season. It was around 40 degrees, and we didn't see anyone else on the course. It was a bit chilly. But it was fun. As usual, I averaged between an 8 and 10 on every hole. I was able to hit some nice straight shots, but also topped alot of balls and I can't hit straight with my driver to save my life.

The problem is that golf is very addicting. Every time I play, on about hole 5 or 6 of nine, I am playing so poorly that I swear that I will never play again. Then I get two bogeys and one double in the last three holes and I think, okay, I have finally figured it out. But I haven't. The next game will be the same. You are blessed enough to have one really good shot or a decent hole or two so that you are sucked in and want to play more. It is a vicious cycle. The good shot or decent hole is a giant teaser. Come back, it shouts at me, and I am powerless to resist.

So here I am, and I can't wait to play again.

It's a very seductive game.

Fossilized Freak

I saw a preview recently for Meet the Robinsons, a new Disney film. The preview shows a Dinosaur, presumaby a T-rex, trying to reach a little boy, but he can't because his arms are too small.

And I got to thinking, how many complete T-rex skeletons have actually been found? More than one? I have no idea. But what if we are basing our understanding of T-rex anatomy from one skeleton? Might it be possible that the dinosaur who ended up as the fossil remains was a freak of nature dinosaur? Like the snake with two heads?

Maybe most T-rex's actually had longer, more useful arms. Maybe the fossil T-rex was unable to save itself from the tarpit because it, unlike the others, could not pull itself out with its puny arms.

I don't know anything about paleontology, or whatever the right ology is, but that is an interesting thought. At least it is to me.

Ding-Dong-Stay

I recently saw a video on the internet that both amused me and got me to thinking.

The video was of some British guy pulling a prank where he would ring someone's doorbell and then when they answered the door, he would just stand there quietly. Usually, the person that answered the door would eventually ask why the guy had knocked on the door, at which point the guy would accuse the person who answered the door of being the one who had knocked on the door in the first place. The goal was to see how long it took before the person became frustrated and closed the door.

I think that it would be funnier if you just stood there saying nothing until they shut the door. I think that it would make people feel very uneasy.

And then I wondered if it would be possible to intentionally screw up other types of pranks in an effort to really confuse people.

For example, you could toilet paper someone's house in broad daylight while they were working in the yard, and just pretend that you don't see or hear them. Just go about your business and leave.

Or you could put on a scary mask and follow a family member into their bedroom, turn on the light, and hide in their closet while they were watching you, then jump out and try to scare them.

You could walk up to a friend, kneel down, and tie his or her shoelaces together while they were watching, and then walk away.

Try making an obvious attemt to tape a "kick me" sign to someones forehead.

Loosen the top of the salt shaker during the middle of the meal while everyone is watching.

The possibilities, once again, are endless.

Killer Dreams

A few nights ago I had a vivid dream. I was attacked by a killer whale. My legs were injured and bleeding. Someone trying to help me was wheeling me around in a red radio-flyer wagon. I ultimately received medical attention from some monks. When I woke up, I thought that the dream was somewhat interesting and entertaining (though it was not entertaining at the time).

I told my wife about the dream and she did not seem to think that it was unusual at all. She said that she had told me about two dreams in the last few months where she was attacked by killer whales. As soon as she reminded me of those dreams, I remembered her telling me about them, although I did not think of her dreams when I woke up or until she mentioned them. She just assumed that I dreamed about killer whales because she had twice dreamed about them and relayed the dreams to me, so they were in my subconscious.

Does it work that way? Did she sow killer whale dream seeds in my mind? Do we need to take a trip to Sea World?

And then I got to thinking... Could I use this to my advantage? Could I plant dream seeds in her mind that would prompt her to do something to my liking?

Should I start telling her that I dreamed about flying to Denver to go to a Broncos Game? Or driving to Vegas for an NCAA Conference Basketball Tournament? Or eating nothing but ribs for two weeks?

The possibilities are endless.

It probably won't work, but I'll give it a shot.

Jumanji Lobster

I have a fish tank in my office. For along time, I had a few frogs in the tank, and they were fun, but not particularly entertaining. Eventually, one of the frogs died, and another committed suicide by jumping out of the tank (through a very small hole) and drying up. So it was time for a change. I went to the store and my attention was immediately captured by a blue lobster. It was about 1-2 inches long, and a brilliant blue color. See this site for a picture of a blue lobster: http://www.elmersaquarium.com/image_fish/01%20crayfish_blue_lobster.jpg

I bought the lobster and brought him home to my tank. This might have been a lack of foresight on my part, but the lobster did not get along with the frogs. He killed both of them within a few days. I thought that it was just a territory thing, as they were all hanging out on the bottom of the tank, but I was wrong. This lobster, as it turns out, is mentally deranged.

With no more frogs, the tank was lonely with just the lobster and the pleco (Algae eater fish), so I bought some other fish to go along with it. I specifically selected agressive/semi-agressive fish, hoping that they could hold their own. The lobster proceeded over the next few months to go on a killing spree. He killed and ate 3 successive plecos, and 3 other fish. I had to keep replacing the plecos, because you need them to keep the tank clean. I tried buying bigger ones, but he was not afraid of any of them. I never saw the kills, though some of the later kills happened in broad daylight while I was in the room. The lobster was getting more and more bloodthirsty and bold. It was obviously time for a change. I took the lobster back to the store and traded him in. The guy at the store put the lobster in a tank containing only one other fish: a pleco. I did the pleco a favor and had the guy sell me the pleco so the lobster was in a tank all by itself. I brought the pleco and some other new fish back to the office and put them in the tank. Lo and behold the criminally insane lobster had made another kill right before I got him out of the tank. One of my fish had been badly injured and died the next day. That brought the body count up to 9. 9 kills. That makes me a little sad.

And then I got to thinking, what horror have I unleashed on the aquarium world? I have placed a psychotic killer lobster back on the market for some other poor unsuspecting chump. Somebody is going to be struck by the beauty of the lobster and take him home only to have a nightmare unfold in his or her tank.

And then I got to thinking again. What if I was not the first? What if this lobster has killed before? Was I just one in a cycle of naive owners whose aquariums were terrorized by this monster lobster?

Just like Jumanji.

Good luck to the next buyer.

A really big pipe.

So I found this website the other day: http://map.pequenopolis.com/

This site allows you to answer the question that has been on the back of your mind since childhood when you dug what you thought was a really deep hole in your backyard. At least, it has been bugging me since that time. I got down like 3 or 4 feet. The question is this: If I dig this hole all the way through the earth, where will I come out? The standard answer to this question was always: China. I thought it would be great to dig a hole to China, and like I stated above, I thought I got pretty close. 4 feet is pretty far down. Anyway, the above website allows you to identify exactly where your hole would come out if you did dig a hole all the way through the earth. It turns out that a hole dug in the backyard of my childhood home would come out somewhere in the middle of the Indian Ocean, so that would have been a shock.

This revelation got me to thinking. What if, in theory, I could dig a hole all the way through the earth, and put a pipe or something in my hole. When I came out on the other side of the earth at the bottom of the Indian Ocean, I would have a conduit to pipe a large amount of water out of the Indian Ocean, and into my yard. I could drain and relocate the Indian Ocean. This got me very excited for about 14 seconds, until I remembered Gravity. My theoretical theory is that the water would flow right down the pipe until it got about halfway through the earth. At that point Gravity would probably prevent it from traveling much farther down the pipe, thus thwarting my ocean relocation plan. So it didn't really work out. What a shame.

Eggs

I am very curious about eggs. Specifically, who was the first person who decided that it would be okay to eat one? What was the thought process like? How did that person get from "fragile roundish object with gross looking innards that came from a chicken" to "incredibly versatile protein rich meal possibility"?

Was it someone who found an egg on the ground and did not know where it came from? Or was it someone who knew very well where it came from and thought that it would be okay to eat despite the source?

I talked to a co-worker about this and he suggested that maybe someone saw an animal eating an egg, and got the idea from them. That seems reasonable, but it is a rather boring explanation. And no matter how it happened, somebody also had to decide, okay, maybe this thing won't kill me, maybe I should try cooking it. But did they do the hard-boiled thing first? Or did they crack it open and fry it?

The next step, of course, was the person who decided that they could mix eggs with flour and chocolate chips and make cookies. Here is a huge step forward in the development of egg cuisine.

Perhaps in the next life we will be able to look back at the history of the world and get the answers to these questions. Maybe I am the only one who cares.

My promise to you. Both of you.

I hereby promise to rarely let you know what is going on in my life. I also promise that when I do actually contribute to this blog, that the posts will be short, uninformative and uninteresting.