I always kind of imagined that I might write some song or story or something original of that nature. I always figured the proof that I had created something would be some official copyright that signified that I had privileges to reproduce that creation. I would then come to and realize that I would probably never go through the hassle of filing a request for a copyright.
A few days ago I came across this site on common myths about what is and isn't a copyrighted material and was a little surprised to find that any original thoughts typed on a blog site are technically considered to be copyrighted. Doesn't seem like such a big deal, but I am happy that I have in some official form the copyrights to ideas like the RIPO post or my letter k post.
I guess it means little if no one ever wants to pay for the copyright rights, but it's nice to feel like a few of my ideas are now mine in some legal sense.
Thursday, August 11, 2005
Wednesday, August 10, 2005
i see you haven't been flossing
Throughout my lifetime I have spent a lot of time in the dentists' and orthodontists' office getting teeth pulled, filled, readjusted, and just about everything else that can happen to a tooth. As such I have never really liked going to the dentist, but it isn't really a big deal to get my teeth cleaned compared to the things that have been done to them in the past.
The one thing that always does bother me about getting my teeth cleaned is having to hear about how I should be flossing more and how the inflammation in my gums is due to my lack of flossing (and not the violence with which the dentist flosses my teeth). I don't know for sure why I can't get in the habit, but come bedtime I have other things I want to do more than spend time working a piece of string back and forth between my teeth. It is actually partially because of this that I have avoided going to the dentist for about two and a half years. I figure I need to go back eventually if I want to keep my teeth in the long term, so I have devised a plan to avoid the lecture on flossing. I now floss after lunch at work.
Yesterday some of my coworkers noticed the floss container laying on my desk. What is that? Dental floss. Why do you have it here? To floss my teeth. When do you do that? After lunch. Has anyone walked in on you flossing? Not that I am aware.
After I had fielded quite a few questions I noticed that one of the guys figured that I had a good idea after all and had started flossing during our conversation. At this point there were complaints about some tartar flying around, then everyone left. Maybe I should think twice about maintaining my dental hygiene at work. Nah, I still think it is a good idea.
The one thing that always does bother me about getting my teeth cleaned is having to hear about how I should be flossing more and how the inflammation in my gums is due to my lack of flossing (and not the violence with which the dentist flosses my teeth). I don't know for sure why I can't get in the habit, but come bedtime I have other things I want to do more than spend time working a piece of string back and forth between my teeth. It is actually partially because of this that I have avoided going to the dentist for about two and a half years. I figure I need to go back eventually if I want to keep my teeth in the long term, so I have devised a plan to avoid the lecture on flossing. I now floss after lunch at work.
Yesterday some of my coworkers noticed the floss container laying on my desk. What is that? Dental floss. Why do you have it here? To floss my teeth. When do you do that? After lunch. Has anyone walked in on you flossing? Not that I am aware.
After I had fielded quite a few questions I noticed that one of the guys figured that I had a good idea after all and had started flossing during our conversation. At this point there were complaints about some tartar flying around, then everyone left. Maybe I should think twice about maintaining my dental hygiene at work. Nah, I still think it is a good idea.
Monday, August 08, 2005
exclusive offer!!! *
I would like to believe that the people watching The History Channel or The Science Channel or The Discovery Channel at midnight are intelligent people. Based on the commercials that I see at that time at night I have my doubts. If I were to go by the bulk of the advertising that fills the airwaves at that time on those channels I would have to assume that the typical viewer is a debt-ridden moron who can't or won't read the fine print at the bottom of the screen.
One advertisement I noticed was for a credit assistance agency that was supposed to help people get rid of credit card debt. The commercial was complete with testimonials about how much the service had helped specific people get out of debt. But wait, right at the start of the first "testimonial" was text in a very small font that read "Dramatization." What's the point of a testimonial if it is fake? I'd say deception.
The next commercial for the site FreeCreditReport.com was no better. They talked about how wonderful it was to be able to see your credit report for free. Then in incredibly small text across the bottom of the screen I saw the exception below (which can also be found at their web site).
To be honest, I prefer the stupid Ionic Breeze infomercials that flood The Science Channel (thanks for buying into the allergy stereotype of geeks, guys) over these shyster commercials, even if their testimonials are fake too.
* By reading this site you automatically grant me permission to bill you $24.99 a day for the use of this "service." I also get a stake in any potential business profits you may experience and power of attorney in your personal dealings.
One advertisement I noticed was for a credit assistance agency that was supposed to help people get rid of credit card debt. The commercial was complete with testimonials about how much the service had helped specific people get out of debt. But wait, right at the start of the first "testimonial" was text in a very small font that read "Dramatization." What's the point of a testimonial if it is fake? I'd say deception.
The next commercial for the site FreeCreditReport.com was no better. They talked about how wonderful it was to be able to see your credit report for free. Then in incredibly small text across the bottom of the screen I saw the exception below (which can also be found at their web site).
"When you order your free report here, you will begin your free trial membership in Triple Advantage Credit Monitoring. If you don't cancel your membership within the 30 day trial period, you will be billed $12 for each month that you continue your membership."If you really want to see your credit report for free, look at the official site set up by the three major credit reporting companies.
To be honest, I prefer the stupid Ionic Breeze infomercials that flood The Science Channel (thanks for buying into the allergy stereotype of geeks, guys) over these shyster commercials, even if their testimonials are fake too.
* By reading this site you automatically grant me permission to bill you $24.99 a day for the use of this "service." I also get a stake in any potential business profits you may experience and power of attorney in your personal dealings.
Saturday, August 06, 2005
the absent-minded dust
Last night was a great night for a movie at the drive in. That was Dash's idea, anyway, and it turned out to be a good idea. I enjoyed Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and even Dukes of Hazzard mostly because I knew what to expect. They were both schlock in their own ways.
Before the movie, though, I made an absent-minded mistake. I meant to call BB to check to see whether he had arrived at the drive in and I inadvertently called my manager from work who has the same name. The two numbers are next to each other on my cell phone list. The biggest blunder was in the fact that I did not notice that I had called the wrong person at first. The conversation went like this.
Me: Hello, B. Are you here yet?
B: Huh?
Me: The reason I ask is that we are in a hard to find location and you may need some help finding it.
B: Who is this?
Me: Dust. Why do you ask?
(here I realized my mistake when I noticed that the voice on the other end didn't sound like BB's)
Me: (embarrassed) Oops.
Anyway, I am glad my manager has a sense of humor. I am sure everyone else at work will have a sense of humor about this, too, when they find out.
Before the movie, though, I made an absent-minded mistake. I meant to call BB to check to see whether he had arrived at the drive in and I inadvertently called my manager from work who has the same name. The two numbers are next to each other on my cell phone list. The biggest blunder was in the fact that I did not notice that I had called the wrong person at first. The conversation went like this.
Me: Hello, B. Are you here yet?
B: Huh?
Me: The reason I ask is that we are in a hard to find location and you may need some help finding it.
B: Who is this?
Me: Dust. Why do you ask?
(here I realized my mistake when I noticed that the voice on the other end didn't sound like BB's)
Me: (embarrassed) Oops.
Anyway, I am glad my manager has a sense of humor. I am sure everyone else at work will have a sense of humor about this, too, when they find out.
Thursday, August 04, 2005
do you smell something?
I have one sense that far surpasses the others in strength. It is not eyesight. I am one of those people who doesn't need glasses, but I am not too far away from needing them. It is not hearing. My ability to distinguish softer noises is already going. My strongest sense is smell.
What is more worthless than a strong sense of smell? It means that I get the joy of getting way too big of whiffs of peoples' cologne when they drench themselves in it. It means that I can tell when someone else hasn't showered for three days. It means that I know when the cat just did her thing in the litterbox.
Golden does not have a very strong sense of smell. Because of this, there have been many conversations like the following in our house.
Me: What's that smell?
Golden: What smell?
Me: What do you mean what smell? That putrid, rancid smell that resembles death.
Golden: I don't smell anything. Nothing smells.
Me: How can you not smell that? Is it the garbage? Wow! That's bad, but that's not it.
Golden: I think you are making this up.
Me: It's not the cat's food dish either. Wait, it's coming from the sink. Let me go ahead and run the garbage disposal.
(Whirrrrr.....)
Then, an hour later
(.....rrrrr)
Me: That's better.
Golden: That was a figment of your imagination.
What is more worthless than a strong sense of smell? It means that I get the joy of getting way too big of whiffs of peoples' cologne when they drench themselves in it. It means that I can tell when someone else hasn't showered for three days. It means that I know when the cat just did her thing in the litterbox.
Golden does not have a very strong sense of smell. Because of this, there have been many conversations like the following in our house.
Me: What's that smell?
Golden: What smell?
Me: What do you mean what smell? That putrid, rancid smell that resembles death.
Golden: I don't smell anything. Nothing smells.
Me: How can you not smell that? Is it the garbage? Wow! That's bad, but that's not it.
Golden: I think you are making this up.
Me: It's not the cat's food dish either. Wait, it's coming from the sink. Let me go ahead and run the garbage disposal.
(Whirrrrr.....)
Then, an hour later
(.....rrrrr)
Me: That's better.
Golden: That was a figment of your imagination.
Wednesday, August 03, 2005
footprints in the sand
I have always been a little more fragile than the average guy. I always got cold or hot a little quicker than most, always cringed just a little more before getting hit on the football field, I always got winded quicker than everyone else, and I picked up plenty of scars growing up from doing what boys do. Even so, I never backed down from sports when I had the opportunity because I love competition to the point of being willing to play through the pain.
Last Sunday evening our church had a sand volleyball night scheduled for our young adults. Since this is one of my better sports (meaning I am not horrible at it), I went for a full evening of games. Golden, bless her heart, patiently sat through it all, too.
When I first got on the sand I realized that the day had been plenty warm. Everyone was complaining about the heat of the sand, but it seemed hotter to me than anyone else was even implying. I was on the sand for a while because we were playing winner stays on the court, and my team kept winning. I also tended to be on the hot side of the court longer than the cooler side. I think that contributed.
For most of the night after the first two games or so, I felt like either my feet were on fire or I was experiencing half of the Stigmata. I figured I had blisters, but the depth of the issue was not apparent until I got home that night. I have been hobbling around for the last couple of days while I heal. I think I'll just keep score in tonight's game.
Last Sunday evening our church had a sand volleyball night scheduled for our young adults. Since this is one of my better sports (meaning I am not horrible at it), I went for a full evening of games. Golden, bless her heart, patiently sat through it all, too.
When I first got on the sand I realized that the day had been plenty warm. Everyone was complaining about the heat of the sand, but it seemed hotter to me than anyone else was even implying. I was on the sand for a while because we were playing winner stays on the court, and my team kept winning. I also tended to be on the hot side of the court longer than the cooler side. I think that contributed.
For most of the night after the first two games or so, I felt like either my feet were on fire or I was experiencing half of the Stigmata. I figured I had blisters, but the depth of the issue was not apparent until I got home that night. I have been hobbling around for the last couple of days while I heal. I think I'll just keep score in tonight's game.
Monday, August 01, 2005
stained glass for the temple
One of the guys in my office likes tattoos. He likes them a lot. His arms, back, and legs are a testament to the artistic abilities of some tattoo artist (or artists) somewhere. While I personally have never understood wanting to have a tattoo, I can tell that this guy made absolutely sure that the images that would be permanently displayed on his body were of the highest quality, and I can appreciate that to a degree.
On Friday I overheard him talking with another coworker about a run-in he had recently had with some Christian protesters. They told him that since he was marking his body up, which they believed was an obvious crime against the temple of God, that he was headed to Hell.
I could say a lot of things to rebut that position. I figured I would rather portray a humorous conversation between this Pseudo-God who sends the tattooed to Hell and a faithful Christian instead because it is more fun.
Pseudo-God: I see that you have accepted Christ and allowed Him to sanctify you into a creature worthy of Heaven.
Faithful Christian: Thank you. You know that I have sacrificed all for You.
Pseudo-God: That was what was necessary. Well done, good and faithful ser--uhh, what's that on your arm?
Faithful Christian: Just a cross tattoo. It reminded me of your Son and the sacrifice He ma--
Pseudo-God: And you thought this was alright because???
Faithful Christian: I don't remember Jesus, Paul, Peter, or John saying anything about tattoos.
Pseudo-God: Of course they did. Didn't you read 1 Corinthians, or was it 2 Corinthians? Anyway, if you look at the original Greek and start in this verse, write down the first letter, then skip the next ten letters, then write down the next letter, then--
Faithful Christian: You're kidding, right?
Pseudo-God: Seriously, how didn't you get this? This is simple. Wait till you see how complex the algorithm is that proves that electricity is from the Devil.
Believe it or not, my point is not to be sarcastic, but just to point to the absurdity of denying people the opportunity at Heaven because they inked their body. It frustrates me the barriers we put in front of people to keep them from accepting the Gospel.
On Friday I overheard him talking with another coworker about a run-in he had recently had with some Christian protesters. They told him that since he was marking his body up, which they believed was an obvious crime against the temple of God, that he was headed to Hell.
I could say a lot of things to rebut that position. I figured I would rather portray a humorous conversation between this Pseudo-God who sends the tattooed to Hell and a faithful Christian instead because it is more fun.
Pseudo-God: I see that you have accepted Christ and allowed Him to sanctify you into a creature worthy of Heaven.
Faithful Christian: Thank you. You know that I have sacrificed all for You.
Pseudo-God: That was what was necessary. Well done, good and faithful ser--uhh, what's that on your arm?
Faithful Christian: Just a cross tattoo. It reminded me of your Son and the sacrifice He ma--
Pseudo-God: And you thought this was alright because???
Faithful Christian: I don't remember Jesus, Paul, Peter, or John saying anything about tattoos.
Pseudo-God: Of course they did. Didn't you read 1 Corinthians, or was it 2 Corinthians? Anyway, if you look at the original Greek and start in this verse, write down the first letter, then skip the next ten letters, then write down the next letter, then--
Faithful Christian: You're kidding, right?
Pseudo-God: Seriously, how didn't you get this? This is simple. Wait till you see how complex the algorithm is that proves that electricity is from the Devil.
Believe it or not, my point is not to be sarcastic, but just to point to the absurdity of denying people the opportunity at Heaven because they inked their body. It frustrates me the barriers we put in front of people to keep them from accepting the Gospel.
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