Showing posts with label WeekendBlogHop. Show all posts
Showing posts with label WeekendBlogHop. Show all posts

Sunday, March 20, 2016

PowerPoint Ranger

In case you’ve been living under a rock or camping under Spanish moss or living in a field of poppies (I like to give people options), Microsoft PowerPoint©™®F*CKUGOOGLE is the world’s most popular slideshow presentation program. It is used by “engineers”, corporate robber barons, financial advisors (rich people who advise themselves, under the guise of advising you), “scientists,” and self-help experts. Since I belong to a profession whose name lives inside snigger quotes, I am of course a PowerPoint expert. We call ourselves PowerPoint Rangers.

Here is a whirlwind guide on how to put together a PowerPoint.  A PowerPoint slide consists of four parts: 
1.      A killer title;
2.      Photon torpedo bullets;
3.      Pretty pictures that exceed the thousand word limit;
4.      “Take-aways”, or “bumper stickers” that tell the reader what to think.

I will draw for you an example that everyone can relate to. Suppose Matthew had available to him the Holy PowerPoint when he wrote his Gospel of Jesus? Unlike Mark, who is a delicious read and makes Jesus exciting, Matthew is a horrible writer, and I would rather put an arrow in one ear and out the other than to have to read him again. Dull, dull, dull, except in his renderings of the sayings of Jesus, which he evidently copied from the elusive Q-source. But I digress.

It could all be different if Matthew had PowerPoint. I’ll show you. The following example is the first chapter of Matthew, in which our inept Gospel-ateer establishes that the prophecy of Isaiah has been fulfilled.




True, the Tree of Jesse did not exist in Matthew’s time, but surely he could have come up with some eye candy. You might also object that the graphic is unreadable. Inadmissible! The gist of it will come across to the audience in what we PowerPoint Rangers call “the audio.” The presenter will hit the highlights such as David and Abraham and Solomon and the patriarchy of the Second Temple and all that good stuff. No problemo.

Note how the title generates excitement and is positively titillating. The bullets are concise, hard-hitting, and cling to the major points. Matthew’s shtick is that Jesus should be accepted by the Jews as the messiah of prophecy, as all the requirements have been fulfilled, because, well, he says so.

Finally, the bumper sticker burns it in. Jesus was born to a virgin, he is the messiah, he is King of the Jews. Isn’t that better?

Of course, what counts are the sayings of Jesus. The Sermon on the Mount occupies Chapters 5 through 7. Let’s try our hand at Chapter 5.




The beguiling Jesus starts by seducing his audience with the sayings that later came to be known as the beatitudes, here neatly summarized in the language of PowerPoint. The rationale given by the Master, of course, goes in ‘the audio.’ Then “Matthew” (that is, we on his behalf) neatly summarizes the main points in power bullets. Matthew wouldn’t have had recourse to a Renaissance painting of the Sermon, but if we are the tiniest bit lucky, Matthew might have been a better sketch artist than he was a writer. Now, admittedly, a PowerPoint slide could never do justice to the lovely rhetoric of Jesus himself. The presentation could be accompanied by pamphlet handout capturing the full text of Jesus’s remarks. That would be a handier reference than a 1400 page Bible, which is almost as long as a Russian novel.

I will leave it to you to fill in the remaining 26 chapters and complete the literary salvation of Matthew.

Of course, we have adduced this New Testament exercise merely as an example of mastering PowerPoint. The lessons herein equally apply to convincing the Department of Defense to waste billions of dollars on an unfeasible weapon system; convincing the gullible to adopt a dietary fad that will cause their livers to wither away into pecans; or stealing billions from seniors. So get with it!  You too can be a PowerPoint Ranger!



Sunday, March 13, 2016

Sleep, You Abandoned Me

A Poem by M.W. Thomas

Sleep, you abandoned me.  Why?
For whose sake?
For what temptation of wine or song?
What misdemeanor did I commit against slumber?
Was it the slip of light that I allowed to escape the sash?
Was it the squeaky weathercock I refused to oil last Autumn?
Was it the Sartre I read past my bedtime?

A Neanderthal entered my cave, a brute
He demanded my ration of your elixir
And laid across from me
A stone knife carefully placed across his chest
Yes, it will be 200,000 years before
I adorn myself with my own talisman of plastic insomnia

Pythagoras!  Do not even you have a theorem for my nocturnal bliss?
Scholars!  Academics!  Shall my slumbers be Form, Universal, or Substance?
Michael, Gabriel, Rafael, bring me your heavenly wisdom!

I fought on the savanah
Against lions
Against hyenas
Against the other apes
But mostly against the women
They tamed me and commanded that I toil in the light and sleep in the dark.

With broken back and broken dreams, I do neither

The King has a City with Great Walls
Twelve feet high and six miles long
He demands husbanded animals and great yield;
He demands fields of grain and great yield.
The City fails
The King from the North arrives with a great army
No one sleeps.  Many die

Where is my blanket?  I am cold
My limbs seize hard and I cry from my toes
My fingers drag at the fabric and do no better work by night than by day
I smell like rotten eggs

A little dog comes; she paws and nests, then settles in beside me
Her nap is unlabored and sweet
Awake!
Shall we go to the middens and see what we can find?

The Philosopher laughs and calls me a Pauper
The Poet laughs and calls me a Pretender
My little dog heels and follows and wonders what we are getting to eat

I wish for soup
I wish for soup too hot to eat

I wish I could have slept through his politics
His boorishness; his wars
We are uniquely loved by God says he
Yet he makes me toss and turn at night
In fits of fear
And in the miasma of my own farts

I was once a bright lad
Now everyone is smarter than me
Who are you?  Who are you that now push me aside?
Go away sweet little dog.  Find another home.  I can no longer care for you.

If only Laughter were my Insomnia!
Though a joke, this misadventure nevertheless a nightmare
And for all its humor, the punchline unfit for children:

Cursed be life, and blessed be death!

My pharmacist is a good counter
A-One, A-Two, A-Three!
He sings as he spoons out my pills
Like Lawrence Welk counting down the start of Autumn Leaves
My capsulated victuals come in all colors of the rainbow
And fill my cabinets
I feast on them according to directions
They do not bring sleep

The Interpretation of My Dreams is the Decay of Humanity
Sleep is a wicked mistress
Sleep, you abandoned me

Sunday, November 15, 2015

Slow Down

Speed kills.  I am not just talking about cars.  I mean in general.  Going too fast wrecks things like cars and like dating.  Excessive speed ruins projects, drains bank accounts, and scratches furniture.  It is the number one cause of bad hair days.

Speed is relative and excessive speed is judged proportionally against the scope and size of sentient action.  How fast does a python swallow a pig? Fast talking may get you that refund at Target, but it won't marry you to your soul mate.  Impatient fumbling with a paper airplane may not be consequential, but your querulous DIY brake job can lead to tragedy. Quick thinking when you're attacked by a nest of wasps may be a good thing.  But a rush to judgment can capitally punish the wrong suspect.

Life has limited throughput.  When the receiver's bandwidth is smaller than the transmitter's, something is not going to work right.  When you slow down, everything is better.  If everybody slowed down, we'd get within Zeno's distance of a utopia.

Unfortunately, the millennials are hogging all the data tubes.  They want to make a senior salary straight out of college, then retire at 35.  They are smart, but not like they think they are.  They have not yet learned how to modulate their velocity  I am sure they know the difference between taking off like a rocket and falling off a twelve story building.  But they don't act like it.

I won't be any gentler on older folks who are slow learners either.  You, who passed me on the shoulder going 70 mph yesterday, need to go back to a school of some kind.  Maybe one with bars.  There is a reason we have criminalized excessive speed.  It's reach may not be as wide as needs to be though.

So put a governor on it folks.  Slow down and smell the roses.  Speed up and you will smell the carnations at your funeral.  Or go bankrupt.  Or just make everybody who knows you wish they didn't.  Remember the fable of the tortoise and the hare?  Be a winner.

Saturday, July 11, 2015

Watchman: Is Your Head Exploding?

Jem dead? Atticus a racist? These are the spoilers spilled in the pages of the NYT Review of Go Set A Watchman. Do you have the vapors? If so, you seem to be in good company. Say It Ain't So tweets the universe. The comments page drips with pissing and moaning that no doubt spells "$$$" for the publisher HarperCollins.

Given recent events, it is timely to ask why we ever accepted To Kill A Mockingbird's hero, Atticus Finch, as a two-dimensional paragon of moral purity in the first place. After all, was he not a man of his times? How could such a man in the deep south not be affected by the prevailing attitudes about race and segregation?

We are told that Mockingbird is a rewrite of Watchman. I will be interested in reading Harper Lee's original painting of Atticus for myself (I am not on the publisher's list of advance reviewers, if you can believe it.  The book is scheduled for publication on Tuesday, July 14.)

Are the Atticus's of Watchman and Mockingbird truly inconsistent with each other? Mockingbird's Atticus is six-year-old Scout's Atticus. He is seen through a child's eyes, strong and heroic, bravely standing up to a mob mentality that would railroad an innocent black man to his rendezvous with death beyond all reason.

Watchman's Atticus is 26-year-old Jean Louise's Atticus. How differently does this grown-up young woman see her father since those days? How much has Atticus changed over the years with age? Is he different twenty years on, or does Jean Louise simply see him differently? Or did the character evolve in Ms. Lee's mind in a zig-zag of cultural criticism?

Unlike the TIMES reviewer, I have not had the opportunity to explore these questions with Ms. Lee's book for myself yet. But to me, the Tale of Two Atticus's is at least potentially the legitimate stuff of American Literature. And if it makes my head explode, maybe that's because it's good writin'.
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Please leave a comment below, or you can email your comments to: myirrefutableopinion@gmail.com. I am looking forward to hearing from you!


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Sunday, May 3, 2015

I'm a Wazer!

I'm a Waze GrownUp and an aspirational Waze Warrior. If you don't know what I'm talking about, Waze is a GPS-based navigation app for smartphones that provides turn-by-turn finger-waggings and traffic hazard warnings, including police traps. It's five generations ahead of sliced bread. It works on iPhone, Android, Blackberry, Windows Mobile,  Symbian, and Maemo. When Google bought the company up in 2013, the 100 or so employees at the time each got a payout of something like $1.2 million. They must be happy campers. If not happy, then at least rich campers. Hands down, it is the best navigation software out there. The maps are accurate, at least for the U.S., and it crowd sources traffic information from a strong membership, so you have a good idea what's going on for your commute.

Waze uses gaming principles to keep members engaged. You earn points for the number of miles you drive, reporting road hazards, and police sightings. You advance through "levels" as follows:
  1. You're a Waze Baby until you've driven you're first 100 miles
  2. Then you're a Waze GrownUp
  3. When you're in the top 10% of the highest scorers in you're state, you're a Waze Warrior, and you drive around with a shield
  4. Top 4%: you "fight traffic with a sword." You're a Waze Knight
  5. At 1% you're Waze Royalty and you "ride in style" with a crown
As silly as it is, I'm really into it. I want that damn shield. Fortunately for me, Waze awards points based on how far you drive, and being a super-commuter, I've been racking them up quickly. I even got extra points yesterday for my first weekend road report. Yippee! Waze also rewards with "road goodies" and "candy" to gobble up on the road. More points! Hooray!

The Waze display and user interface is well designed.  The scale of the map automatically adapts to your speed. The icons indicating hazards, police presence, or points of interest, fit well into the scene. The experience becomes a sort of augmented reality. What's missing is weather: if a squall has popped up in the town you're passing through, there's no way to report that. Can't report 'tutes on the streetcorner either.

Oh well, nothing is perfect. You might want to visit your app store and try out this gizmo. See on the road.
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Please leave a comment below, or you can email your comments to: myirrefutableopinion@gmail.com. I am looking forward to hearing from you!


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Saturday, April 25, 2015

Team of Rivals

Recently added to GOOD READS page...

Team of Rivals
 
Genres: Non-fiction, History, American History
Doris Kearns Goodwin

Date read: October, 2014
 
Author: Doris Kearns Goodwin, b. January 4, 1943
 
Publisher: Simon & Schuster, New York (2005)
 
Awards: 2006 Lincoln Prize; Inaugural Book Prize for American History, New York Historical Society
 
Quote: We need the strongest men of the party in the Cabinet. We need to hold our own people together. I had looked the party over and concluded these were the very strongest men. Then I had no right to deprive the country of their services. ~ Abraham Lincoln
 
Opinion: Doris Kearns Goodwin's exploration of Lincoln's political savvy in our time of greatest national crisis won the awards noted above quite deservedly. In her book, she adheres tightly to her thesis and does not wander off into other circumstances or subjects related to the American Civil War. Does she succeed in making her case? That it was Lincoln's political brilliance that saved the Union? Her argument is compelling. As she polls Lincoln's cabinet members she adduces what seems millions of data points to support her. But is it evidence or anecdote?
 
 I am not a professional historian and cannot credibly review her scholarship. And I have heard no grumbling from her peers. Nevertheless, I am a critical reader, and I am not sure I am inclined to swallow her whole, without her servings being passed through a poison-tester first. The Union was saved. With that hindsight, isn't it easy, tempting to ascribe it to Lincoln's godlike wisdom? Maybe there was a lot of good luck involved too; not to mention the superior economic and military strength of the Union side. Or maybe she's right: things came out right because Lincoln was a political genius.

Her study is excellent and is certainly recommended reading. I give it four stars (I don't read bad books, and neither should you.)

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Sunday, April 5, 2015

Spread-head Viewer

The Spread-head Viewer. Through Gimmicks with Mirrors, The Effective Pupillary Distance is Increased From About 56mm To Approximately 260mm.
We live in interesting times. The physicists at CERN have confirmed the existence of The Force and that it binds our universe together. Job satisfaction is way down among Porn actors. Yet the truth shall set us free whether we want it to or not. Today, I introduce the Spread-head Viewer, a totally revolutionary 21st century concept.

Here's the basic idea of the spread-head viewer. Normally our eyes are a shy bit under three inches apart, which establishes the parallax for our stereoscopic vision. That stereo effect allows us to experience the world in many nuanced ways. We see objects in their total context, we see the front and the back, and from side to side.

The Spread-head Viewer takes it to a new whole level. It spreads our pupillary distance of about three inches to ten or twelve inches, and potentially beyond. Think of the applications. The Secret Service can use it to see around trees, vehicles, and other obstacles to keep us safe from democracy. Park Rangers can use it to count the squirrel population more accurately.Your Walmart can figure out where that goddamned last box of Kleenex is.

I am working up a licensing agreement for my Intellectual Property rights. If you or your  company are doing this technology and trespassing on my rights, do contact me so we can duke it out. I am confident we can reach an understanding to bring this great invention to the American People.

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Thursday, February 19, 2015

My Hat

I will only be addressing men's headgear today, not that you were really expecting a spiel on such haberdashery. Women's hats are strange articles that are beyond my powers of pontification. I have seen some that look more like inverted soup tureens than headdresses. Who can forget Lucy's flower pot hat that topped off her potato sack dress from the Europe episodes of I Love Lucy. At least Lucille Ball was jesting. No we are here to talk about manly hats, such as you might find the Marlboro Man underneath. That means we're not discussing ball caps either. Okay, but just for a moment.

Caps are the dross of the hat world.  Caps are what you wear if you didn't have time to shampoo. They come in handy to catch the barf after a night of hard drinking, but that's the highest praise I can find for them. And why do they always have to say something? Everyone of them ought to just say, "I'm a dumb effing cap."

In contrast, I am resplendent in my Wilson's Leather Cowboy Hat. Now, that's a great hat! It attracts compliments to me such as, "That's a great hat!" I said it attracts compliments; I didn't say they were imaginative ones.

A hat like this one has many uses. It keeps off the rain and snow. It deflects the urine if I happen to be walking under an overpass. When I get home, I tip my hat over and deposit my scarf in it.  See! It's a scarf-holder too! In fact, it could be a receptacle for many things, but just not barf.  No sir. Not my hat.

I got it at the outlet store for about sixty bucks. What a steal! It was like poaching ivory. You should get one.

There you have it. Here is a tip of the hat - to my hat.

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Friday, February 13, 2015

Skinny and Single

I've mined another gem of a blog that I really like.  It's called Skinny and Single and by gum it's my kind of blog! The author, Laura McGowan, describes herself as "sexy in a ripped sheet."  I have no idea what that means, but I gather she's Canadian, so I'll let it pass. She's funny and bright, and she will throw a sharp elbow now and then, but always says sorry afterward. I'm not sure how sincerely. It could be like the Imperial Japanese politely apologizing after seizing your Pacific island paradise.

Ms. McGowan has done very well for herself in the blogosphere.  She has a jillion readers. And look at this list of accolades:
  • Social Influencer - BlogHer
  • schmutzie.com 2014 Canadian Weblogs Award Nominee
  • Nominated Site: 2014 Great Dating Blog Awards
  • Several other nominations...
Okay, maybe friends and family are putting their thumbs the scales for the nominations listed on her home page. Still, that's quite a trophy shelf for someone who has been blogging for less than a year.

Here's the fun part for me. This blog, both in writing style and content, more closely resembles mine than any other I have come across to-date. Her posts are short, breezy, humorous, and for the most part off-the-wall. Her layout is clean, simple, and easy to read.  Okay, she uses the more powerful Wordpress, while I use Google Blogger; and she has better features on her page than I do, but in principle, we seem to be like-minded.

It gives me hope. If her blog can be such a smashing success, maybe mine can be too?! She sets a precedent, I pray. Of course, I'm not Canadian. If that's the deciding factor, I could be doomed.

You must add Ms. McGowan to your reading list. And for me, here's another for my blogroll.  I swear to Hades I'll get around to adding that Page someday. Google Blogger makes that embarrassingly easy.