A REAL Dinosaur Story...

In the News right now...
--Bush applauds bombing death of Al-Quaida leader, but group says the killing will only make them stronger and more committed to their holy war;
--American army officer in Seattle refuses to go to Iraq as ordered, calling the war illegal and claiming his involvement would make him a participant in war crimes;
--Bush lackey criticizes UN second-in-command for chiding U.S. over its continued efforts to undermine the UN's moves to improve the world, including castigating the American government over the war in Iraq and other issues;
--Bush criticized by Far Right after Republican amendment to ban gay marriages in the U.S. fails to receive enough Senate votes.

So while George Dubya's star continues to shine as brightly as it ever has, we bring you a story about REAL dinosaurs, not the kind that are in the White House, the ones who REALLY should become extinct.

June 8: (EurekAlert): When unusually small dinosaur fossils were found in a quarry on the northern edge of the Harz Mountains in 1998, it was initially assumed that these were the remains of a group of young dinosaurs.

The rendition of the dinosaurs in the accompanying illustration are of a mini-me version of a species that paleontologists originally thought must have been the young of a species similar to brachiosaurs.

But experts now say the microstructure of the bones makes it very likely that the animals involved were adults. At a maximum estimated weight of one tonne they were only a fiftieth the weight of brachiosaurs, and thus by far the smallest of the giant dinosaurs which have ever been found.

Of course, this has nothing to do at all with the news of the day, other than the association between one group of dinosaurs (the Bush administration) and the real type of dinosaurs.

But what the heck...it is a diversion.

JUST DO IT! And I have...

Nike gets enough promotion and publicity through their blatant branding and the unbelievably ridiculous overuse of their famous check mark logo, plus silly but catchy sign-post sayings like Just Do it.

Well, I've done it, all right. And in the process, I've unwittingly become...THE ULTIMATE NIKE NERD!!!!!!

On one recent adventure that had absolutely nothing to do with playing sports, watching them or otherwise caring about them or what I might be wearing to suggest I was at all sports-inclined, I got into my car and fumbled for my keys.

My spirit sank as I noticed I was wearing the following items:

1. Nike socks with the checkmark logo on them
2. Nike black shorts with the checkmark logo on them
3. Nike shirt with the checkmark logo on it
4. Adidas runners with their logo on them
5. If I could remember what underwear I had on, I would tell you. What I know is that they were NOT NIKE!

Now, the fact is I AM an athletic, sports-minded person. But this self-discovery flew in the face of everything I've ever valued or tried to pass on to my kids or others, if they should ask my opinion.

We are SO overrun with horrible, self-serving promotion and branding by the gigantic corporations. You can't watch any sports event (aside from the Olympics and the Masters golf tournament) without being force-fed the Nike logo or the American Express card or Viagra or WalMart or whatever.

"This pitching change is brought to you by..."

Even the schools, supposedly those last bastions of truly advertising-free, objective environments, have allowed computer companies to come in and advertise in return for free computers.

We can't escape it, anywhere, this mad frenzy towards buy, buy, buy. Consumerism consumes all.

But I thought I had avoided that. I would purposely buy clothes that did NOT make me a walking ad for some company. And I would not buy such products that did make their products all about their branding, rather than their usefulness or value.

But here, thanks to what I now believe must have been several different shopping excursions where I could not avoid this plague, I had become everything I despised: a walking billboard for Nike.

Where can I go to hide...

FLUSHED into Fearyland

I went on a weekend trip to see a lady friend, a beautiful, friendly, lady-like lady friend, about 1500 miles away.

It's kinda like one of those budding long-distance relationship thingies that have little hope of working out. But because there was such a strong initial attraction, you try to make it work anyway. (Maybe that's for another post!)

This reciprocal meeting (she's already visited me once) was for a family wedding (her family), where I knew virtually nobody, she knew everybody, of course. So I was the mystery man on her arm, the NEW GUY, the man whose name no one would remember and who was expected to remember everyone else's...

It was, in a word, draining. For those of you who don't know how a male brain works, it functions something like this:



Notice the size of the listening particle. I am absolutely horrendous with names, as I believe most guys are. I can, however, get by, simply by being exceptionally charming rather than tedious, and I have developed highly-evolved methods of not HAVING to actually remember people's names when I'm talking to them.

Anyway, I hope and believe you're getting my drift.

The entire weekend was designed specifically to take advantage of the obvious shortcomings of my male brain. My lovely female friend was very good about it, and kept mentioning for my tiny listening particle's benefit which of her 18 sisters was married to which of her 19 brothers-in-law, why niece No. 6 was taking her clothes off and who her parents were and why her mom -- a lovely woman -- kept asking me to dance at the wedding reception and why her dad kept cracking those jokes about how HE'D stay in the hotel room with me, not his daughter...

It was a stressful, if not enjoyable, weekend.

And what does all this have to do with a real bathroom that shows a man free-falling out of the floor to his apparent death, presumably after being flushed down the toilet of life?

Well, as much as I did enjoy myself, when you get the feeling you're constantly being poked and prodded and quizzed and you're in an unfamiliar place with strange people who all know the one you're with and are making jokes about how you're both going to end up together at some point, and you have no idea yet that that's what you want to do...you CAN feel a bit like you're being flushed down the toilet and into a free-fall to who knows what?

Ear today, gone tomorrow

Waxing poetic about Ear Wax

While I contemplate other more serious topics for discussion, I thought I'd write about a rather unusual, partly painful, frustrating experience I had this week, for the second time in about five months.

I had to have a compacted accumulation of ear wax removed from both of my ears.

You have to understand...this is funny, but it's not. The procedure for removing the wax is certainly strange and funny. The inability to hear out of one ear for the days leading up to said procedure is frustrating.

Here are some facts:

Wax is produced naturally within the ear as a protective mechanism to keep dust particles and other foreign substances out. The ear canal and the ear drum and other mechanisms inside are very fragile.

Some people produce more wax than others. And the wax is supposed to naturally dissipate and/or come out of the ear on its own. But in many people, this doesn't always happen and it can accumulate.

The worst thing to do when it does accumulate -- DOH! -- is to stick things like cotton swabs inside the ear canal to remove wax. All that does is compact it further inside the ear, which is what happened to me.

By early in the week, I could not hear out of my right ear. I put mineral oil inside it to soften up the wax, but because I had compacted it with the cotton swabs (Q Tips), it would not come out.

When I got into my doctor, who I have been to before to clear them out, he laughed. He motioned to me to get up on the table/chair and brought out the giant syringe used to jet warm water inside the canals to dislodge the wax.

The water and the ugly dark brown compacted wax comes out and lands in a plastic container I'm holding next to my ear. Now, I'm literally free and clear and will be mindful of putting drops of mineral oil in my ear every couple of weeks henceforth.

This brings to mind two things: how we take things like seeing and hearing and speaking and touching so for granted until we can't do those things, and how debilitated we feel.

And secondly, I wonder how much wax has accumulated in more famous ears than mine, such as George W. Bush's and other world leaders.