I feel as if my training has hit a pretty good place. Even my assistance Sunday day is making me feel stronger. My back is definately getting B and S. Now that I have a meet to shoot for and a total in mind with the possibility of Raw Unity on the horizon, I am getting nervous and jerky. I couldn't sleep last night thinking about numbers and percentages.
My training got better once I was able to focus and calm down a bit, and that is what I need to do this week. this will be a true deload week for me, perhaps the first I have ever actually taken. I do not want to break the momentum, but I have tended, in the past, to just keep hammering away until I get hurt or things started to go badly.
Concerned about my left shoulder and wondering if overhead pressing is working for me and I am not sure what to do about kick starting my bench, but overall I feel pretty good. Abs and back are nice and sore this morning. It is about time to mix things up a bit, I can feel some stagnation setting in.
In addition to being deload this week, I am also using this week as a weight test. I was at 247.5 on Sunday and want to be at 242.5 or less on Friday. Will take in my usual gallon plus of water a day until Thursday and then limit water to meals. Will watch my eating and while still back-loading on training days, will try to show some restraint. If this works this week, I will use the same plan week of the meet.
Goals for the last few weeks of heavy training:
want to hit 545 x 5 on the squat, then follow that with a 585 triple and a 615 double. That should put me about where I was when I hit 645 @270.
Bench: 330 x 5, 350 x 3, 370 x 2
Deadlift: 515 x 5, 545 x 3, 575 x 2
If I can hit these numbers I want to go:
585 625 650
345 365 385
545 590 605
1475 1580 1640
Will tweak at the meet or as we get closer. RUM qualifier is 1554. Raw "elite" outside of RUM is 1607. I really want 1600+ and anything over 1625 would be a meet PR regardless of weight. Can't decide if I am shooting to high or not, but it feels doable. But it all starts with this deload, and we will go from there.
Mini Adventure of Proto-Mechanic
The Place: Highway 84, 1/2 mile from Trudie Road
The Job: Flat tire on the Frankenfocus
Time: 15 minutes
I have known for weeks that the front tires on the Frankenfocus were less than ideal, but there was nothing I could do about it... unless my hand was forced. When the blubbada-blubbada started, Proto-Mechanic senses told me the hand had been forced. Once I got pulled over, it was a sure thing: flat tire.
I had this fear that there was either no-jack or tire iron in the Frankenfocus. That would have been "Balls Nasty" as I forgot to pick up my cell that morning. We in luck, everything is in place. The jack will not go under the car because it is now too close to the ground. Enlist the help of Gage, Gajo, Joe, Joe-Joe the dog-faced boy, Havahd Joe to pull up on the body so's I can slip the jack under. EPJ, kids.
A side note: the county needs to mow the grass out there, the jack handle kept getting wrapped up in the long grass. It was at that point that I decided to stay calm and just get to it. Holy crap! But my shoulders were talking to me. Never a good idea to do back and shoulders the day before tire changing.
I had a horrible vision of getting the old tire off and then the car falling because the jack slipped in the grass. No dice, we were on our way in about fifteen minutes. Need to get two new front tires: $120 bucks mounted and balanced at the Guitar player for the Band, Robbie Robertson Ford, where Proto-Mechanic gets all the poop done he is too lazy to do himself.
Now, to come up with $120 bucks for mounted and balanced tires.
Monday, September 27, 2010
Friday, September 24, 2010
Stuff
A classic WTF? shot. I really do not want anyone to explain it, because the explanation will be so much more mundane than the utter insanity of the picture. Is it me or is that kid really getting it? Why, though, are Dad's pants coming off.
Saturday, September 18, 2010
The Further Adventures of Proto-Mechanic
The Place: The Driveway
The Job: Water Pump on the 2006 GRAND Caravan
Estimated Time: I figured all weekend...
Been noticing an odd sound from the van. I believed it to be a loose pulley, but figured it was the AC compressor. Was really worried about this, but with no real problems, I turned a deaf eye. Friday it was really making a racket. Then when we stopped at Penney's I could smell antifreeze. When we got home, the antifreeze was pouring out of something at the back of the motor. Proto-Mechanic senses told me there was a leak. Glad I caught it in time.
A quick call to Master-of-Sport Mechanic and All-Round Great Guy, My Personal Mechanicing Lifeline Terry, confirmed this. He also said it was probably the water pump. So, my Saturday was set!
Got up Saturday and jacked up the car. Sure enough, antifreeze pouring out of the water pump. Chris took me to Hardee's to carb up for my endeavor. A quick trip to The Zone, duh-duh-dunta-duh, Autozone. Water pump, jack stands and a gallon of antifreeze (straight, none of that 50/50 cheap stuff) and a deposit of Eighty-Five dollars and we were ready to go. Told the guy at the counter I would probably be back for a tool that I did not have. He was like, "Naw, this should be straight forward." I told him he did not understand the travails of Proto-Mechanic and that he might better hush up and learn. Well, I didn't say that but I really, really thought it. I laughed and smiled and said, "It never fails."
So, first order of business: jack up the van. Of course, I have never used jack stands before and was therefore not sure where to put them. Good thing I had no idea where the belt tensioner was. Two questions necessitates a call to Master-of-Sport-Mechanic and All-'Round Great Guy, My Personal Mechanicing Lifeline Terry. He gives me the lowdown and gives me the hint to remove the tire an the plastic shroud to get at things easier. This proved to be very helpfeul. The plan was to get that belt off and get at it.
Holy shit. Though, I will admit that if I had done a little research beforehand, I would have known the "secret" and would have therefore have avoided the next three hour nightmare. Live and learn. Oh, and swear... alot.
So, as to the belt tensioner, I know that either the bolt in the middle needs to be turned or the square off to the side has to be manipulated in order to release the tensioner. Fine. Turn the bolt. It wants to come off or be tightened until I snap that sucker off and the world ends with a bang not a whimper. Reason gets the better of me and I go to the square. The ratchet I have rattles around in there like dice in a Yahtzee! cup. Try to work in my 1/2 drive breaker bar and the wheel well is too close for comfort (remember this kids!). But I can tell that the square is 1/2 inch. I will simply need a smaller 1/2 inch drive.
Off to the Autozone... duna-dunta-dun-dun... Autozone! just as I promised the kid at the counter. No dice, all they have is the pear heads and I know those will be too fat to fit. They are also stupid expensive (17-35 bucks? Balls!). Off to Wal-Mart. They have nothing but the damn pear heads. There is a cheap kit (20.99) that has a 1/2 inch drive that looks right, but the kit will not open without cutting the tie strap, but I risk it and drive all the way back to Blackshear.
The damn 1/2 inch drive is too damn big. Damn. Head into Blackshear and hit Ace Hardware (you know the place with the helpful hardware... in this case 17 year old with Justin Beiber hair). Beibs does not quite understand what I need and why, but all the 1/2 drives are too big.
"You have any square metal that I can get cut?" I ask.
"We got square keys."
Eureka! "Lead on, my good son."
They have a whole box of 'em. One of which is 1/2 inch wide, but three inches long. That simply will not do, but they agree to cut it for me. Awesome. Makes lots of pretty sparks and a wonderful stench that reminds me of the good ol' days at Mixon Auto Parts. Two dollars and a half and back to the house.
Grab the vice grips, fiddle for a few minutes, engage Gage's help and that belt is off, baby! Best part is that water pump is right there staring at me in the face. A quick and exceptionally messy draining of the coolant system is messy, nasty and uneventful.
"This is gonna be a cinch," I whisper into the afternoon. Apparently, I will never learn.
Regardless, I do take the time to locate the F_______r bolt. The very top one, but once I get the pulley off, it should not be too bad. Pulley bolts (13 mm) come off easy as chicken pie with gravy. I actually can use the wheel well as leverage. Awesome. Pull the pulley off and...
It is trapped betwext the WW and the Water Pump. Balls! But no big whoop. Well, kinda a whoop. I have to continually move the pulley to get to the water pump bolts (10mm), but it is pretty quick work. I do lose one of the bolts, but assume I will find it. Eventually. Still, things are traipsing right along. Until the F____r bolt. From here on out this bolt, which EVERY job has, will be referred to as the F-Bolt, Pol Pot or AMANDA. Well, Pol Pot is wedged way up in the catacombs of the engine. No ratchet can really get to it, but my new new set of mm wrenches (see the very first Proto-Mechanic entry) comes in handy. Of course, the range of motion is about the length of a very thick human hair. Once Pol Pot gets going I have to revert to using my hands. I say "hands" because at this point I am regretting my night at the gym Friday. Forearms are shot, so I have to alternate arms. Luckily, I have small hands. Small, thick hands attached to muscular forearms that wedge up against metal perfectly to induce pain. I have to switch from side to side to alternate hands and every third time I do so I wack my head on the brake caliper and utter either a 1) a swear or 2) a less-than-masculine squeal. But, after a long elapsed time, the water pump breaks free...
and will not come out because it is all to close to the wheel well. AMANDA!!!
I fiddle for several minutes. Christan comes out and asks how it is going. I swear at her. She asks about the brakes (another day) I tell her to go away, nearly weeping that the Pol Pot Water Pump will NOT come out of the hole. I resort to a crow bar and snatch that dirty bastard out of there, breaking several of the plastic ribs on the interior pump wheel in the process, but it is out of there.
I have a fear: will the other water pump go in? I mean the old WP was a pain to get out. I test it out: the AMANDA pump goes nowhere near the Pol Pot mounting area.
I go to call Master-of-Sport-Mechanic and All-'Round-Great-Guy, my personal Mechanicing Lifeline, Terry... and my phone is dead.
It was a this point that I lost my F-Bolt mind. I mean seriously, it was embarrassing.
So, after the phone charges and the Bulldogs lose, I make the call to Master of... you know who, dammit! I describe my predicament and he calmly relays the message:
"You may have to loosen the motor mount and lower the engine."
It was at this point that I became a simpering bitch. I mean it was embarrassing. But, in my defense I was aggravated and more than a little daunted. Lower the engine with my floor jack? Why not ask me to reinvent sliced bread for AMANDA's sake?I end my freak out by simpering to MoSMaARGG,MPML Terry that I will check on the internet and see what it says.
Apparently, If I had gone on the internet earlier I would have learned a secret. The top motor mount has three bolts that, when loosened, lower the engine enough to 1)get a 1/2 drive in the square of the belt tensioner and 2) pop the water pump right in there, buddy. To his credit MoSMaARGG, MPML Terry called it, I was just too much of a whining wussy (SIMPERING AMANDA BITCH!) to believe it could be done.
Sure enough this works like magic. Does not gove you enough room to put the pulley on first, but the Water Pump goes in there pretty easily. The damn "O" seal keeps falling off. Terry (Master-of-Sport Mechanic and All-'Round-Great Guy, My Personal Mechanicing Lifeline) suggested using oil, grease or Vaseline to keep in place. Oil did not work and I do not have any of the others, but Vick's Vap-O-Rub works just fine.
The bolts go into place, during which:
I rap my knuckles and scream like a girl: 4
I drop the ratchet perfectly on my forehead and almost pass out: once
I find the "lost" bolt sitting on the suspension with a snide look on its face: once
On to AMANDA: this takes for Pol Pot EVER! During which:
I rap my knuckles and swear loudly: 13
I rap my knuckles and scream like a girl: 2 (getting better)
I hit my head on that damn caliper: 32
... and swear: 30
I hit my head on the new jack stand: 16
... and swear: 16
Start to literally cry: 7
Simper like a bitch: 9
Curse God: 1
Curse Dodge: 2
Swear my revenge: 1
Nearly break my left arm squeezing it up into the snow smaller hole because I dropped the engine: 4
All in all, it was very embarassing. But the water pump is on. After two tries with the belt, it even goes on. It takes a long tome to tighten the bolts on the motor mount, but it gets done. Fill the radiator with the good stuff with equal parts H2O, and it is time for a test run.
Damn if nothing leaks.
So, it was my biggest job on the van and it only took six and a half hours. Sure, my dignity was flushed down the toilet, but it was a small price to pay to save 200 bucks I did not have. I apologize to Christan and Master-of-Sport-Mechanic and All-'Round Great Guy, My Personal Mechanicing Lifeline Terry for 1) FREAKING the Pol Pot Out 2) being a bastard and 3)showing my simpering bitch side.
I was absolutely whipped after this job. My arms, already worn out from squats the night before, were shot out. I felt like I spent the whole day swimming... and swearing.
Time: Six and a half hours
Credit: All to MASTER-OF-SPORT-MECHANIC AND ALL-'ROUND GREAT GUY, MY PERSONAL MECHANICING LIFELINE TERRY. He had it all figured out. I simply acted as half-assed, simpering bitch, foul-mouthed hands for his brain.
The Job: Water Pump on the 2006 GRAND Caravan
Estimated Time: I figured all weekend...
Been noticing an odd sound from the van. I believed it to be a loose pulley, but figured it was the AC compressor. Was really worried about this, but with no real problems, I turned a deaf eye. Friday it was really making a racket. Then when we stopped at Penney's I could smell antifreeze. When we got home, the antifreeze was pouring out of something at the back of the motor. Proto-Mechanic senses told me there was a leak. Glad I caught it in time.
A quick call to Master-of-Sport Mechanic and All-Round Great Guy, My Personal Mechanicing Lifeline Terry, confirmed this. He also said it was probably the water pump. So, my Saturday was set!
Got up Saturday and jacked up the car. Sure enough, antifreeze pouring out of the water pump. Chris took me to Hardee's to carb up for my endeavor. A quick trip to The Zone, duh-duh-dunta-duh, Autozone. Water pump, jack stands and a gallon of antifreeze (straight, none of that 50/50 cheap stuff) and a deposit of Eighty-Five dollars and we were ready to go. Told the guy at the counter I would probably be back for a tool that I did not have. He was like, "Naw, this should be straight forward." I told him he did not understand the travails of Proto-Mechanic and that he might better hush up and learn. Well, I didn't say that but I really, really thought it. I laughed and smiled and said, "It never fails."
So, first order of business: jack up the van. Of course, I have never used jack stands before and was therefore not sure where to put them. Good thing I had no idea where the belt tensioner was. Two questions necessitates a call to Master-of-Sport-Mechanic and All-'Round Great Guy, My Personal Mechanicing Lifeline Terry. He gives me the lowdown and gives me the hint to remove the tire an the plastic shroud to get at things easier. This proved to be very helpfeul. The plan was to get that belt off and get at it.
Holy shit. Though, I will admit that if I had done a little research beforehand, I would have known the "secret" and would have therefore have avoided the next three hour nightmare. Live and learn. Oh, and swear... alot.
So, as to the belt tensioner, I know that either the bolt in the middle needs to be turned or the square off to the side has to be manipulated in order to release the tensioner. Fine. Turn the bolt. It wants to come off or be tightened until I snap that sucker off and the world ends with a bang not a whimper. Reason gets the better of me and I go to the square. The ratchet I have rattles around in there like dice in a Yahtzee! cup. Try to work in my 1/2 drive breaker bar and the wheel well is too close for comfort (remember this kids!). But I can tell that the square is 1/2 inch. I will simply need a smaller 1/2 inch drive.
Off to the Autozone... duna-dunta-dun-dun... Autozone! just as I promised the kid at the counter. No dice, all they have is the pear heads and I know those will be too fat to fit. They are also stupid expensive (17-35 bucks? Balls!). Off to Wal-Mart. They have nothing but the damn pear heads. There is a cheap kit (20.99) that has a 1/2 inch drive that looks right, but the kit will not open without cutting the tie strap, but I risk it and drive all the way back to Blackshear.
The damn 1/2 inch drive is too damn big. Damn. Head into Blackshear and hit Ace Hardware (you know the place with the helpful hardware... in this case 17 year old with Justin Beiber hair). Beibs does not quite understand what I need and why, but all the 1/2 drives are too big.
"You have any square metal that I can get cut?" I ask.
"We got square keys."
Eureka! "Lead on, my good son."
They have a whole box of 'em. One of which is 1/2 inch wide, but three inches long. That simply will not do, but they agree to cut it for me. Awesome. Makes lots of pretty sparks and a wonderful stench that reminds me of the good ol' days at Mixon Auto Parts. Two dollars and a half and back to the house.
Grab the vice grips, fiddle for a few minutes, engage Gage's help and that belt is off, baby! Best part is that water pump is right there staring at me in the face. A quick and exceptionally messy draining of the coolant system is messy, nasty and uneventful.
"This is gonna be a cinch," I whisper into the afternoon. Apparently, I will never learn.
Regardless, I do take the time to locate the F_______r bolt. The very top one, but once I get the pulley off, it should not be too bad. Pulley bolts (13 mm) come off easy as chicken pie with gravy. I actually can use the wheel well as leverage. Awesome. Pull the pulley off and...
It is trapped betwext the WW and the Water Pump. Balls! But no big whoop. Well, kinda a whoop. I have to continually move the pulley to get to the water pump bolts (10mm), but it is pretty quick work. I do lose one of the bolts, but assume I will find it. Eventually. Still, things are traipsing right along. Until the F____r bolt. From here on out this bolt, which EVERY job has, will be referred to as the F-Bolt, Pol Pot or AMANDA. Well, Pol Pot is wedged way up in the catacombs of the engine. No ratchet can really get to it, but my new new set of mm wrenches (see the very first Proto-Mechanic entry) comes in handy. Of course, the range of motion is about the length of a very thick human hair. Once Pol Pot gets going I have to revert to using my hands. I say "hands" because at this point I am regretting my night at the gym Friday. Forearms are shot, so I have to alternate arms. Luckily, I have small hands. Small, thick hands attached to muscular forearms that wedge up against metal perfectly to induce pain. I have to switch from side to side to alternate hands and every third time I do so I wack my head on the brake caliper and utter either a 1) a swear or 2) a less-than-masculine squeal. But, after a long elapsed time, the water pump breaks free...
and will not come out because it is all to close to the wheel well. AMANDA!!!
I fiddle for several minutes. Christan comes out and asks how it is going. I swear at her. She asks about the brakes (another day) I tell her to go away, nearly weeping that the Pol Pot Water Pump will NOT come out of the hole. I resort to a crow bar and snatch that dirty bastard out of there, breaking several of the plastic ribs on the interior pump wheel in the process, but it is out of there.
I have a fear: will the other water pump go in? I mean the old WP was a pain to get out. I test it out: the AMANDA pump goes nowhere near the Pol Pot mounting area.
I go to call Master-of-Sport-Mechanic and All-'Round-Great-Guy, my personal Mechanicing Lifeline, Terry... and my phone is dead.
It was a this point that I lost my F-Bolt mind. I mean seriously, it was embarrassing.
So, after the phone charges and the Bulldogs lose, I make the call to Master of... you know who, dammit! I describe my predicament and he calmly relays the message:
"You may have to loosen the motor mount and lower the engine."
It was at this point that I became a simpering bitch. I mean it was embarrassing. But, in my defense I was aggravated and more than a little daunted. Lower the engine with my floor jack? Why not ask me to reinvent sliced bread for AMANDA's sake?I end my freak out by simpering to MoSMaARGG,MPML Terry that I will check on the internet and see what it says.
Apparently, If I had gone on the internet earlier I would have learned a secret. The top motor mount has three bolts that, when loosened, lower the engine enough to 1)get a 1/2 drive in the square of the belt tensioner and 2) pop the water pump right in there, buddy. To his credit MoSMaARGG, MPML Terry called it, I was just too much of a whining wussy (SIMPERING AMANDA BITCH!) to believe it could be done.
Sure enough this works like magic. Does not gove you enough room to put the pulley on first, but the Water Pump goes in there pretty easily. The damn "O" seal keeps falling off. Terry (Master-of-Sport Mechanic and All-'Round-Great Guy, My Personal Mechanicing Lifeline) suggested using oil, grease or Vaseline to keep in place. Oil did not work and I do not have any of the others, but Vick's Vap-O-Rub works just fine.
The bolts go into place, during which:
I rap my knuckles and scream like a girl: 4
I drop the ratchet perfectly on my forehead and almost pass out: once
I find the "lost" bolt sitting on the suspension with a snide look on its face: once
On to AMANDA: this takes for Pol Pot EVER! During which:
I rap my knuckles and swear loudly: 13
I rap my knuckles and scream like a girl: 2 (getting better)
I hit my head on that damn caliper: 32
... and swear: 30
I hit my head on the new jack stand: 16
... and swear: 16
Start to literally cry: 7
Simper like a bitch: 9
Curse God: 1
Curse Dodge: 2
Swear my revenge: 1
Nearly break my left arm squeezing it up into the snow smaller hole because I dropped the engine: 4
All in all, it was very embarassing. But the water pump is on. After two tries with the belt, it even goes on. It takes a long tome to tighten the bolts on the motor mount, but it gets done. Fill the radiator with the good stuff with equal parts H2O, and it is time for a test run.
Damn if nothing leaks.
So, it was my biggest job on the van and it only took six and a half hours. Sure, my dignity was flushed down the toilet, but it was a small price to pay to save 200 bucks I did not have. I apologize to Christan and Master-of-Sport-Mechanic and All-'Round Great Guy, My Personal Mechanicing Lifeline Terry for 1) FREAKING the Pol Pot Out 2) being a bastard and 3)showing my simpering bitch side.
I was absolutely whipped after this job. My arms, already worn out from squats the night before, were shot out. I felt like I spent the whole day swimming... and swearing.
Time: Six and a half hours
Credit: All to MASTER-OF-SPORT-MECHANIC AND ALL-'ROUND GREAT GUY, MY PERSONAL MECHANICING LIFELINE TERRY. He had it all figured out. I simply acted as half-assed, simpering bitch, foul-mouthed hands for his brain.
Friday, September 17, 2010
Pictures
This is a pic of me and the wife of nearly nineteen years. We are on our way to Valdosta to see our oldest son, Logan, who is a junior at VSU. We had a very nice evening. This is the stuff that makes my blog so damn interesting.
Too much damn back light in the first one. Cute dress. Goofy looking dude.
Too much damn back light in the first one. Cute dress. Goofy looking dude.
Quotations :
""The lie is ephemeral. It rises out of the mist of life, does its damage and then slips away with time, forgiveness or forgetfullness. But its seed is a solid object. A hard and painful thing lodged in the mind of the receiver. The lie begets doubt, and that doubt is redoubled with every subsequent lie whispered in the hope of keeing the truth dear and hidden. Lies harm. Doubt destroys like cancer: slow and steady, with pain and sorrow littering its wake."
T.A. Morlan
"Because I do not hope to turn again...
Because I do not hope
Because I do not hope to turn
Desiring this man’s gift and that man’s scope
I no longer strive to strive towards such things"
T.S. Eliot
"We shall meet in the place where there is no darkness."
Orwell
"We're gonna flash fly this mutha!"
Master Shake
"Overture,Curtain,Lights! This is it, the night of nights. And oh, what heights we'll hit! On with the show this is it! ... Tonight what heights we'll hit... on with the show this is it!"
Bugs Bunny show, ca. 1965
“Think for yourself, question authority. Throughout human history, as our species has faced the frightening, terrorizing fact that we do not know who we are, or where we are going in this ocean of chaos, it has been the authorities, the political, the religious, the educational authorities who attempted to comfort us by giving us order, rules, regulations, informing, forming in our minds their view of reality. To think for yourself you must question authority and learn how to put yourself in a state of vulnerable, open-mindedness; chaotic, confused, vulnerability to inform yourself. Think for yourself, question authority."
Timothy Leary
"Born with a mustache and a supernova, tossed off the cliffs of Dover; washed up on a faraway shore in the arms of the daughter of the buffalo... Swallower of Planets, the Profits of Doom!"
Clutch
"And then he was fully socketed to her, like a pipe wrench in a crock of warm chili."
Robert K. Tenenbaum.
"Watch, Fat Friar, as I put a clothyard shaft through his wishbone!"
Daffy Duck as Robin hood
"Sorry, Venkman, I'm terrified beyond the capacity for rational thought"
Egon Spengler
"Seymor Krelborn... Sweety, honey, baby... pussycat... sweetheart, dollface... boobalah! My name is Bernstein..."
Bernstein
"She said Im fine, Im okay cover up your trembling hands
Theres indecision when you know you aint got nothing left
When the good times never stay
And the cheap thrills always seem to fade away
When will we fall
When will we fall down."
Toad the Wet Sprocket
"Against stupidity the very gods themselves contend in vain."
Friedrich Schiller
"Are we the ocean? Are we the desert? Are we the garbage? Who's to say?"
Clutch
"In a hundred years our stars' lights forgotten
Names from lack of use faded specifics
Of you and I swallowed,
Lost on the horizon of progression's
Succession of lost moments strung together."
T. A. Morlan
"We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us and we drown."
T.S. EliotSee
"I read your book you magnificent bastard!"
Bill McNeal
"Ah-ha. Sarcasm. The last refuge of sons of bitches!"
Beth
""The lie is ephemeral. It rises out of the mist of life, does its damage and then slips away with time, forgiveness or forgetfullness. But its seed is a solid object. A hard and painful thing lodged in the mind of the receiver. The lie begets doubt, and that doubt is redoubled with every subsequent lie whispered in the hope of keeing the truth dear and hidden. Lies harm. Doubt destroys like cancer: slow and steady, with pain and sorrow littering its wake."
T.A. Morlan
"Because I do not hope to turn again...
Because I do not hope
Because I do not hope to turn
Desiring this man’s gift and that man’s scope
I no longer strive to strive towards such things"
T.S. Eliot
"We shall meet in the place where there is no darkness."
Orwell
"We're gonna flash fly this mutha!"
Master Shake
"Overture,Curtain,Lights! This is it, the night of nights. And oh, what heights we'll hit! On with the show this is it! ... Tonight what heights we'll hit... on with the show this is it!"
Bugs Bunny show, ca. 1965
“Think for yourself, question authority. Throughout human history, as our species has faced the frightening, terrorizing fact that we do not know who we are, or where we are going in this ocean of chaos, it has been the authorities, the political, the religious, the educational authorities who attempted to comfort us by giving us order, rules, regulations, informing, forming in our minds their view of reality. To think for yourself you must question authority and learn how to put yourself in a state of vulnerable, open-mindedness; chaotic, confused, vulnerability to inform yourself. Think for yourself, question authority."
Timothy Leary
"Born with a mustache and a supernova, tossed off the cliffs of Dover; washed up on a faraway shore in the arms of the daughter of the buffalo... Swallower of Planets, the Profits of Doom!"
Clutch
"And then he was fully socketed to her, like a pipe wrench in a crock of warm chili."
Robert K. Tenenbaum.
"Watch, Fat Friar, as I put a clothyard shaft through his wishbone!"
Daffy Duck as Robin hood
"Sorry, Venkman, I'm terrified beyond the capacity for rational thought"
Egon Spengler
"Seymor Krelborn... Sweety, honey, baby... pussycat... sweetheart, dollface... boobalah! My name is Bernstein..."
Bernstein
"She said Im fine, Im okay cover up your trembling hands
Theres indecision when you know you aint got nothing left
When the good times never stay
And the cheap thrills always seem to fade away
When will we fall
When will we fall down."
Toad the Wet Sprocket
"Against stupidity the very gods themselves contend in vain."
Friedrich Schiller
"Are we the ocean? Are we the desert? Are we the garbage? Who's to say?"
Clutch
"In a hundred years our stars' lights forgotten
Names from lack of use faded specifics
Of you and I swallowed,
Lost on the horizon of progression's
Succession of lost moments strung together."
T. A. Morlan
"We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us and we drown."
T.S. EliotSee
"I read your book you magnificent bastard!"
Bill McNeal
"Ah-ha. Sarcasm. The last refuge of sons of bitches!"
Beth
Monday, September 6, 2010
Truncated Sunday Workout and Under the Dome
Shoulder Warmup
Standing Millitary Press
45 x 10
95 x 10
135 x 10
155 x 10
Pullups
10, 9, 8
then Christan and I got into a fight and I left the gym. Spent the rest of the day reading.
Under the Dome by Stephen King
It takes about 120 pages to get interesting, builds momentum like a tsunami and falls flat in the end.
Unmistakably a Stephen King novel, one in the same vein as The Stand (with about as many characters in considerably less acreage), Under the Dome crackles with fantastic dialogue and almost painfully tight suspense. Seriously, it almost hurts, but not always in a good way. I found myself wondering just how much more could go wrong. Apparently a lot. The upside is that, for the most part, King has a knack for making his characters believable in that good people have bad aspects and bad people have somne good aspects. Though the former sometimes feels a little forced. Elements from "The Mist" and The Stand reappear, and understandibly so. When the shit hits the fan, people are either side with the difficult good or the seamingly easier evil. And under the dome, the shit certainly hits the fan. There are SO many characters that is hard to keep them all straight, particulalry sens ethe setting is all the same area. Several King archetypes reassert themselves. The sometimes dirty mouthed, hot tempered minister who doubts the existence of God, someone with a brain tumor that makes them talk strange, the perfect hero for the job who just so happens to be there when the shit hits the fan, the easily swayed psychophant, a whole bunch of young psyhopaths-in-waiting, the beautiful unmarried heroine, really smart kids, a SHITLOAD of drunks, a crazy drug-addled self-proclaimed prophet (who functions surprisingly well while constantly whacked out on meth) ans, of course, the bad guy.
As to Big Jim Rennie, the really bad guy. Unlike Walter o'Dim or Randall Flagg, who have some some charismatic pull on the reader, I hated this guy from the beginnig. A toad in the worst sense, with no redeeming qualities at all. And this would be fine, but it highlights the hidden subtexts of the novel. I do not think Stephen King likes christians much (at least not the hard-liners). Or the war in Iraq. Or people who doubt global warming. Or Republicans.
Jim Rennie is the conssumate hypocrite christian. A charicature who seems to paint all those who worship their God ferventlty as brainwashed at best, liars at worst. Rennie and the Rev. Coggins suffer from insane beliefs coupled with dubious behavior and sexual fetishes. In the King universe it is fine to believe in God, just do not be so vocal about it. If you do, you just might be crazy. I have no dog in the fight, but I know a lot of christians who belive strongly and are not crazy people. It is his book, but Rennie, while easily hateable, is almost too bad to be true. His balance, to King, is that he is a hypocrite, or worse, a false prophet leading the flock astray, but is so heavy handed it makes me want to be angry for christians everywhere. It is all well and good to doubt and be a hypocrite as long as your faith is quiet and you are the good guy, then it seems less crazy and more a sign of human characterfoible, but "in for a penny, in for a pound" seems to apply here. That or lay it on a little less thick.
The dome itself is a not-so-subtle metaphor for the global warming phenomenon. The only person who rails against the global warming phenomenon is... Big Jim, crazy talking Christian-bigot-pervert.
The book is bent to a liberal standpoint, and that is fine, its King's book, but it is not really what I am looking for in a read. You would think that people who have been around the block would see that every politician is pretty much the same, but perhaps that is my bent. The hero has no love for his time in the millitary, Big Jim (the idiot) and his cronies rail against the president, the millitary is ineffectual, only the good guys happen to bring up the Bush administration and its evils (Darth Vader mask and a Dick Chaney). All subtle hints, but with a thousand-plus pages, it all adds up.
Then, there is the Stephen King ending. He states that this book was a lot longer. It could have spent way more time with the ending. Literally 900 pages bulding up to the horrific climax and then about seventy-five dealing with the aftermath, waiting for a resolution, and then quick, tidy ending that smacked of something I cannot put my finger on. The parrallel structure of ants under a looking glass and the ending itself were weak and underdeveloped, and the wrap-up literally takes all of four or five pages to unravel. Then it is an ending that, to me, made little sense: a sudden psychic link, a sudden parralel situation to the heroine's childhood memory, Oh, MY! But, that's what we got in It, in The Stand, and even in The Dark Tower (though that worked a little better for me). Just like "Lost" the payoff was not worth the investment. A shame.
C+...83
Standing Millitary Press
45 x 10
95 x 10
135 x 10
155 x 10
Pullups
10, 9, 8
then Christan and I got into a fight and I left the gym. Spent the rest of the day reading.
Under the Dome by Stephen King
It takes about 120 pages to get interesting, builds momentum like a tsunami and falls flat in the end.
Unmistakably a Stephen King novel, one in the same vein as The Stand (with about as many characters in considerably less acreage), Under the Dome crackles with fantastic dialogue and almost painfully tight suspense. Seriously, it almost hurts, but not always in a good way. I found myself wondering just how much more could go wrong. Apparently a lot. The upside is that, for the most part, King has a knack for making his characters believable in that good people have bad aspects and bad people have somne good aspects. Though the former sometimes feels a little forced. Elements from "The Mist" and The Stand reappear, and understandibly so. When the shit hits the fan, people are either side with the difficult good or the seamingly easier evil. And under the dome, the shit certainly hits the fan. There are SO many characters that is hard to keep them all straight, particulalry sens ethe setting is all the same area. Several King archetypes reassert themselves. The sometimes dirty mouthed, hot tempered minister who doubts the existence of God, someone with a brain tumor that makes them talk strange, the perfect hero for the job who just so happens to be there when the shit hits the fan, the easily swayed psychophant, a whole bunch of young psyhopaths-in-waiting, the beautiful unmarried heroine, really smart kids, a SHITLOAD of drunks, a crazy drug-addled self-proclaimed prophet (who functions surprisingly well while constantly whacked out on meth) ans, of course, the bad guy.
As to Big Jim Rennie, the really bad guy. Unlike Walter o'Dim or Randall Flagg, who have some some charismatic pull on the reader, I hated this guy from the beginnig. A toad in the worst sense, with no redeeming qualities at all. And this would be fine, but it highlights the hidden subtexts of the novel. I do not think Stephen King likes christians much (at least not the hard-liners). Or the war in Iraq. Or people who doubt global warming. Or Republicans.
Jim Rennie is the conssumate hypocrite christian. A charicature who seems to paint all those who worship their God ferventlty as brainwashed at best, liars at worst. Rennie and the Rev. Coggins suffer from insane beliefs coupled with dubious behavior and sexual fetishes. In the King universe it is fine to believe in God, just do not be so vocal about it. If you do, you just might be crazy. I have no dog in the fight, but I know a lot of christians who belive strongly and are not crazy people. It is his book, but Rennie, while easily hateable, is almost too bad to be true. His balance, to King, is that he is a hypocrite, or worse, a false prophet leading the flock astray, but is so heavy handed it makes me want to be angry for christians everywhere. It is all well and good to doubt and be a hypocrite as long as your faith is quiet and you are the good guy, then it seems less crazy and more a sign of human characterfoible, but "in for a penny, in for a pound" seems to apply here. That or lay it on a little less thick.
The dome itself is a not-so-subtle metaphor for the global warming phenomenon. The only person who rails against the global warming phenomenon is... Big Jim, crazy talking Christian-bigot-pervert.
The book is bent to a liberal standpoint, and that is fine, its King's book, but it is not really what I am looking for in a read. You would think that people who have been around the block would see that every politician is pretty much the same, but perhaps that is my bent. The hero has no love for his time in the millitary, Big Jim (the idiot) and his cronies rail against the president, the millitary is ineffectual, only the good guys happen to bring up the Bush administration and its evils (Darth Vader mask and a Dick Chaney). All subtle hints, but with a thousand-plus pages, it all adds up.
Then, there is the Stephen King ending. He states that this book was a lot longer. It could have spent way more time with the ending. Literally 900 pages bulding up to the horrific climax and then about seventy-five dealing with the aftermath, waiting for a resolution, and then quick, tidy ending that smacked of something I cannot put my finger on. The parrallel structure of ants under a looking glass and the ending itself were weak and underdeveloped, and the wrap-up literally takes all of four or five pages to unravel. Then it is an ending that, to me, made little sense: a sudden psychic link, a sudden parralel situation to the heroine's childhood memory, Oh, MY! But, that's what we got in It, in The Stand, and even in The Dark Tower (though that worked a little better for me). Just like "Lost" the payoff was not worth the investment. A shame.
C+...83
Friday, September 3, 2010
Cardio and "Freakonomics"
Cardio in Waycross
33 minutes w/ warmup and cooldown
2.16 miles
All walks were at 3.5
4 2 minute runs: 5, 5.2, 5.5, 5.8
5 one minute incline walk/run:
4.0 @ 2%
4.2 @ 2.5 %
4.4 @ 3.5%
4.6 @ 4.0%
5.0 @ 4.5%
walk, run, walk, incline... in between walks were either 1 or two minutes. Not a bad cardio workout.
Freakonomics
An interesting read but it would do well to advise its readers to heed its own warning: never trust the experts. While some of the ideas put forth by Dubner and Levitt are neat, it is far from the hidden side of everything. And some of their conclusions suffer from the same things that plague anyone who deals with data and statistics. Namely, the propensity for skewing the results, or in this case, the methods, to favorable directions.
The legalization of abortion vs. crime issue is a fascinating idea, but fails for one glaring reason. While the writers have tons of data about crime and police infrastructures, they have no data at all suprting the abortion side. It is enough for Levitt to say that the women who would have had abortions during the time probably would have kids that would have grown up to be criminals. Half of the equation is based on a supposition, but that is never spelled out. We are expected to just go, "Aha! Genius at work!" and go on our merry way.
Then there is the economics of drug dealing. Truly a unique look into a world most of us will never know, but they use a single group of drug dealers (all be it a large group) to be the basis for all drug dealers. They might even be right, but to insinuate that the many run the same as the one is flawed, particulalry when dealing with the specifics of a drug gang led by a college graduate. One would think that is a rare happenstance. Could be, but how do we know? Levitt and Dubner never tell us if this is a common occurance or is unique to their sample.
Levitt has a clever way of looking at things, but most of them are useful only to a niche group of people. The most widely applicable article deals with real estate agents, and to use the information he provides could be great or it could be trouble, depending on the individual. It puts it in people's minds that real estate agents, all of them, are out for themselves and the client is secondary. A dangerous implication. This section also goes on forever, particularly with the info on the KKK. This was eye opening, but it goes to show an issue with the book. The writer's tend to just keep talking. The articles at the back of the book do a much better job of getting to the point and still delivering the information with an economy of words.
Freakonomics is best understood as a lesson in trying to look at all information through as many lenses as possible. As Timothy Leary said, "Think for yourself. Question authority." Experts and subject authorities abound in our culture and I have to continually remind myself to not just accept what I am hearing as fact. Most of the time, facts are bent to make the point. Levitt and Dubner point this fact out, but fail to apply the concept to themselves. C+: 84
33 minutes w/ warmup and cooldown
2.16 miles
All walks were at 3.5
4 2 minute runs: 5, 5.2, 5.5, 5.8
5 one minute incline walk/run:
4.0 @ 2%
4.2 @ 2.5 %
4.4 @ 3.5%
4.6 @ 4.0%
5.0 @ 4.5%
walk, run, walk, incline... in between walks were either 1 or two minutes. Not a bad cardio workout.
Freakonomics
An interesting read but it would do well to advise its readers to heed its own warning: never trust the experts. While some of the ideas put forth by Dubner and Levitt are neat, it is far from the hidden side of everything. And some of their conclusions suffer from the same things that plague anyone who deals with data and statistics. Namely, the propensity for skewing the results, or in this case, the methods, to favorable directions.
The legalization of abortion vs. crime issue is a fascinating idea, but fails for one glaring reason. While the writers have tons of data about crime and police infrastructures, they have no data at all suprting the abortion side. It is enough for Levitt to say that the women who would have had abortions during the time probably would have kids that would have grown up to be criminals. Half of the equation is based on a supposition, but that is never spelled out. We are expected to just go, "Aha! Genius at work!" and go on our merry way.
Then there is the economics of drug dealing. Truly a unique look into a world most of us will never know, but they use a single group of drug dealers (all be it a large group) to be the basis for all drug dealers. They might even be right, but to insinuate that the many run the same as the one is flawed, particulalry when dealing with the specifics of a drug gang led by a college graduate. One would think that is a rare happenstance. Could be, but how do we know? Levitt and Dubner never tell us if this is a common occurance or is unique to their sample.
Levitt has a clever way of looking at things, but most of them are useful only to a niche group of people. The most widely applicable article deals with real estate agents, and to use the information he provides could be great or it could be trouble, depending on the individual. It puts it in people's minds that real estate agents, all of them, are out for themselves and the client is secondary. A dangerous implication. This section also goes on forever, particularly with the info on the KKK. This was eye opening, but it goes to show an issue with the book. The writer's tend to just keep talking. The articles at the back of the book do a much better job of getting to the point and still delivering the information with an economy of words.
Freakonomics is best understood as a lesson in trying to look at all information through as many lenses as possible. As Timothy Leary said, "Think for yourself. Question authority." Experts and subject authorities abound in our culture and I have to continually remind myself to not just accept what I am hearing as fact. Most of the time, facts are bent to make the point. Levitt and Dubner point this fact out, but fail to apply the concept to themselves. C+: 84
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