A Billion Year Contract?

I just heard on MSNBC that Scientologists sign a billion year contract that they'll be loyal, faithful, and true to their organization. And if they should try to finagle out of it -- say with most of the billion years left -- then they owe some big time money for "counseling." The case they told about on the news owed $40,000 for "counseling."

First, anyone who would consider joining such a lunatic religion probably needs counseling, but counseling from outside that particular organization. That's insane.

I was just looking online to see if there's any other links to this billion year contract topic. And there's plenty. So I guess I'm the last one to hear about it. Plus you can find lots of other information about this organization, including enough to make you want to get a really good crucifix to hold up if they ever come around! Or some wolf bane for the doorpost.

If you're really looking for a religion, try one of the normal ones.

Bush Wouldn't Have Been So Bad

It's an odd thing to say, since George W. Bush perpetually disgusted me, but he wouldn't have been so bad if wasn't able to ramrod things through Congress. If he would've just sat lifeless in the White House and been thwarted at every turn, I could've endured him.

Finally we get someone elected that I do like, and what do we get? Someone who probably won't be able to get a Mother's Day proclamation through Congress and apparently doesn't do much else.

Why are the really bad guys so effective at pushing their agenda?

Every Six Months

I should've grabbed a scratch pad. By the time you get to the computer, your ideas are withering or congealing. They don't stay fresh more than a minute.

Which is to the point, my constant thing, the passing of time and its relation to us. You think that everything's the same, until you see pictures of the past and realize what a foreign world you were living in at the time and didn't know it. At the time its utter familiarity meant it was normal, and the average person didn't want to go around snapping pictures of everything. It was normal.

It wouldn't be normal for someone to be going around now doing that. He might say the point is to show them all in 40 years what the differences are. Except most of them are going to be dead anyway. His efforts will serve the people at the time, who will glance at the pictures and some of them will recall the way it was. Which is the way it is right now.

So it's not staying the same, but incrementally at least changing all the time. Like how a room gets messed up. A few books that don't make it to the shelf. A stack of papers that gets tipped over one day. Some newspapers set askew. Some pieces of crumpled paper that missed the waste can. Next thing you know you're living in squalor. But it's onward and upward for the town, downtown, the suburbs, other buildings. With funerals everyday for the previous generation.

I've got a couple magazines on the shelf that I bought, probably six months ago. I haven't done anything with them except keep them in good condition. At the time I had a real collector's instinct about these things. Now I'm looking at them with disbelief that I succumbed to that at the time. But no one tried to talk me out of it. The intention was to get a couple plastic bags to put them in, then to put them in a box.

The key thing about them today is that it's surely been six months. Meaning a whole half a year has already passed away right under my nose. Whatever I'm inexorably going toward in life, I'm inexorably that much closer. Sleep a little, eat a little, go out to eat, worry, and all the rest. It all adds up.

Someday When I'm In The Graveyard

Filling out the census form yesterday reminded me that I am alive. Because they wanted to know about Person Number 1 and Person Number 2 and how old we are. But if we were dead, you're excluded. So I immediately felt my pulse and knew the government cares about me because I'm alive.

I keep thinking about the results of the census being held confidential by the government for 72 years. So by the time 72 passes and all is revealed and I'm able to see what my name was again, I'll be in the graveyard. Just there, a forgotten box of ashes, suffering through winter cold and summer heat, although obviously suffering might be the wrong word for it.

If my family does what I want, they'll be able to harvest any body parts that still work properly. Then whatever leftovers there are, those they'll try by fire. Then when the fire has reduced them to ash -- no more legs, no more arms, no more privates, no more belly, etc. -- I'll fit in one of those tiny little boxes and that'll be it. I was small when I was born, so it's only fitting that I'll fit in a small box someday.

It'd be nice to know more about it. Do they cremate you nude or fully dressed? Maybe cremation has its own Wikipedia page. I'll look. ... Here it is, with me quoting just part of it.

The box containing the body is placed in the retort and incinerated at a temperature of 760° to 1150°C (1400° to 2100°F). During the cremation process, a large part of the body (especially the organs) and other soft tissue are vaporized and oxidized because of the heat, and the gases are discharged through the exhaust system. The process usually takes 90 minutes to two hours, with longer times associated with larger bodies, and older furnaces.

90 minutes to two hours, with longer times associated with larger bodies, and older furnaces ... I'm not that big a guy, and I hope I don't get an older furnace. I've had old cars, old houses, old hand-me-down clothes all my life. Give me one thing that's new. That's all I want, a new furnace.

I ought to start a blog about my death. That'd be a cool niche blog, just a guy ruminating about his death, perhaps 20-40 years in advance. Then they make a big printout of it and it's there at my funeral, looking like a big Congressional bill. The preacher says it's 1,300 pages of dense print, and we're not leaving till we read every word, or something.

Anyway, someday when I'm in the graveyard -- the silent city -- the government won't care about me. Only my family, till they all keel over, one after the other. Then, after all the heirs are totally gone, it'll just be me and the worms.

The Poo Of The City To Be Divided

When you search for articles at newspaperarchive.com they return a bunch of results with little snippets of various articles on the newspaper page.

Because they were scanning mostly bad looking newspaper copies, sometimes it's just gibberish. But sometimes they're pretty good, but since the samples are automatically truncated, they come out sounding funny. Like this one:

"The poo of the city to be divided among the several churches." Speaking for the churches, we don't want the poo of the city, thank you very much!

But the actual article tells the true story:

"A collection was taken up for the poor of the city, to be divided among the several churches represented at the meeting."

Jimi Hendrix "Valleys Of Neptune" Released Early?

I was at Walmart and saw the new Jimi Hendrix CD today, March 5.

I was saying to my wife, "I thought this was supposed to come out on March 9." But there it was on the shelf, several of them. So I figured it must have come out on March 2.

I bought one and came home to see when the release date was supposed to be, since I could've sworn it was March 9. And indeed, that's what the internet sites all say.

Meaning that I, apparently, for once in my life, got something early. What a big coup, huh? It probably sounds the same this week as it would next week.

What I was actually more concerned with was that I thought some of them were going to be numbered, like the CD single was, but these didn't appear to have any number. Still, who cares? The numbers never do me any good anyway.

I'm listening to it on my little computer speakers. Sounds fine.

In case you don't know, Jimi Hendrix was a well known rock guitarist from some years back. Initially he had quite a bit of success, then died and refused to release his last album for another 40 years. In eternity, it seems, he's got all the time in the world.

Elvis' Last Days

I have a book called "Elvis Up Close," subtitled, "In the words of those who knew him best." It always seems to be setting around and I pick it up once in a while.

Tonight I was sitting there, kind of depressed (about other things), and started looking through some of it. I went to the end, to the part where Elvis' friends had to deal with his death.

They had that weird sense of disbelief in many cases. I remember hearing it, sitting in my chair in the front of the TV, and feeling like crap that Elvis was dead. Which has been a long time ago.

He was only 42, and, as we were reminded earlier this year, would've been 75 in January. But he was looking terrible at the time and seemed to have other issues, including a bunch of medicine around.

It's tough to believe Elvis was so young and that had to happen. It's tough to think of Elvis being younger than me. I probably shouldn't have reminded myself he's dead.

The Mysteries And Anxieties Of A Q-Tip Container

The generic kind aren't called Q-Tips, since that, like Band-Aids, is a trademarked name for something everyone knows. They're called cotton swabs.

Our box always gets buried under some stuff in the bathroom, with the flap stuck down and no one knows what it looks like or what its exact circumstances are. Even though it's buried, it's still halfway peeking out so you know right where it is. I know I never see it clearly.

So I'm reaching for it, whether day or night, light or dark, and getting some swabs. Sometimes the flap's in the way but it doesn't usually matter. It's those rare times when it does matter that really bug me. Then you have to work the flap up and let some swabs escape its block. Then we're back to normal, the flag being a nuisance but not preventing the dispensing of swabs.

It's one of the few things that I'm continually reaching for when you can't see it. There might be a mousetrap in there and that's when I'd discover it.

I have a lot of anxiety about getting them out in time, so that I'm not blocked too many seconds.

The Automatic Shower Cleaner

On paper the automatic shower cleaner has to be a good idea. You have it hanging there, you push the button, it beeps to give you time to close the door, then it sprays, and, theoretically, it's cleaning the shower. It probably is. But I don't know, maybe a whole army of mildew eating bacteria couldn't get my shower clean.

I haven't noticed any difference in three or four days.

The only difference I've noticed is the inconvenience to me personally having the automatic shower cleaner hanging on the shower head. Since I'm used to leaning my head back to wash out shampoo and to rinse my face. But now when I do my familiar backwards motion, bang, my head hits this big automatic machine hanging there. Not good.

But what can I say? Honey, your shower cleaning thing sucks? Honey, I threw away the shower cleaner? You can't do that. You can just grin and bear it until it becomes clear that it's not making any difference. Like when we're on the third or fourth refill.

Anyway, how hard would it've been to just buy some spritz on stuff, and spritz it on the mildew directly, and let it eat its way free of food? We really don't need it up there whirling around in a widely dispersed area when the problem is more localized.

But hey, that's just me!

Hindsight

I have a bunch of stuff going on. It's stressful.

Someday I will know everything by hindsight. I'm looking forward to that day. Then I will be able to look back and see what happened. Then I will know exactly how everything worked out.

One thing in my favor, I've always been OK in the past. So in the future I'll probably be OK too.

The things that have already happened, that I can look back with hindsight on, of course I have a few regrets. I can always think of things I could've done differently. But by the time it's all past, it's set in stone, so there's no worries about the past.

I need to get through the next little bit. Then things will be come clearer.

It's time to make my prayers come true, if I knew precisely what to pray about.

A New Jimi Hendrix Album!

I must have been living under a rock not to hear that there's a new Jimi Hendrix album coming out in March. How can this be?

I was Walmart today and saw a CD single from it, with a bonus track, plus a free download of something else. So I got one. The new long player is called "Valleys of Neptune," which is what this CD single is entitled too.

The CD single has the title track, plus an previously unreleased alternate recording of "Peace In Mississippi." I have several Jimi Hendrix albums but haven't got them memorized that I would know how any of this fits together.

The free download track is "Red House," as recorded at Clark University in 1968. I used to download Hendrix stuff like crazy off of Usenet, so I probably had this at one time. But then I got rid of all those downloads. So it's nice to have this one as a legal download.

Being unfamiliar with all the details of Jimi's recording sessions, I'm still wondering how it could be that there is this album out there. Why wasn't it released before?

Also, this CD single is numbered! I didn't notice that at the store. I didn't see it until I was busy reading the back. At the store I was just trying to find one that didn't have a cracked case. I hate that when brand new CDs are setting at the store in cracked cases. I should over and look at Walmart's eggs and see if every other one is broken. Probably not. Anyway, I found a couple (out of a total of about 6) that weren't cracked. So I would guess the other numbers were around mine, which was a little over 9000 out of 15000. I don't want to say exactly what number I got, just in case there's some collecting marauders in the area looking for this particular one. Very paranoid.

No Money For Inaction

I got a call from (I don't know what it's called) the Democratic Congressional Candidates fund or something. Telling me they're expecting quite a big battle this November, and that they would appreciate my support, etc.

Well...

As it turned out I was a nice guy. But, 1) I don't give money to people who call me on the phone. How do I know they are who they say they are? 2) I'm really in no mood to give our Democrats in Congress any money for their reelection, not that I'm hoping they lose ... I don't.

The thing is they've been a bunch of scoundrels, only not as bad as scoundrels as the Republicans. But I don't support scoundrels per se. Why are they scoundrels? Because they're doing the bidding of donors much higher up than I. Are they ever doing my bidding? If they are, I haven't noticed it.

I think this Congress has been crap. They can't get anything done. Instead of breaking the kneecaps of the Republicans and making a public spectacle of them, they've allowed the minority to dominate the political scene. If this is what we're supposed to be buying, I'll take a refund, thank you.

I'm Advertising XM Radio

This is funny.

I wrote a post the other day excoriating XM Radio for their terrible tactics against the customer when you're trying to cancel your account.

Now, because I mentioned XM Radio, ads for XM receivers are appearing on my blog. That's funny.

To be fair, their service is pretty good, you know, if you want to listen to the radio. It's always on, there aren't outages that I can recall. Yes, they switched the channels from a bunch of good ones to a bunch of semi-good or bad ones, but that's progress (snicker). I'm not a stick in the mud.

My own thing is simply this, that I quit listening to it along the way. The idea of having a radio in one solitary place in your house -- because you have to have the antenna out a southerly window -- doesn't lend itself to listening to the radio for hours (or even minutes on end). What am I going to do? Live in that room?

It's not that I wouldn't want to listen to it. Although also some of the work I do requires concentration and I can't have a radio playing all the time. Which is neither here nor there.

My objection to XM at this point was, when I went to cancel it they treated me like dirt under their feet. After having been a faithful customer over five years. At that point, simply thank me and wish me well. Who knows? I might've gone back to them if they only knew how to manage a nice breakup.

I Think "Get The SOB Done" Is Fairly Straightforward

The time for talk is through. The time for talk was through months ago. Congress, it's time to get the SOB done. Get health care reform done now. No more dilly-dallying and wasting time. We were in crisis mode a year ago.

If you can't look and see the corruption and obstructionism of the Republicans at this point, then all is lost. Your head is squarely where the toilet paper should be.

President Obama and the Democratic leaders met with the Republican idiots yesterday, and it would appear the pieces at the end were in the same place as when they went in. The Republicans want to start over, then next year start over again, then the next year start over again. In other words, they don't want to do anything positive, but simply want the country to circle the drain until we're all drained out. If it puts money in their pockets and enriches their masters, to them so much the better.

Now that we've bent over backwards and have twisted ourselves into a pretzel multiple times, may we please get the SOB done?!