Sculpin

Paul Beard’s post about “free downloads” (they’re not) reminded me of my favorite story about my father. Once, I’m told, an encyclopedia salesman came to the door, promotional item in hand. (They roamed the earth with the dinosaurs.) My father answered, and the first thing the guy said was, “I have a free gift for you!” as he held out a book.

“Thank you!” said my father, and he took the book and closed the door. The salesman pounded on it, yelling. My father calmly took the opportunity to give the man an education about the words “free” and “gift”. The salesman quit yelling, but my father kept explaining rationally and relentlessly. He could explain at you until you wanted to gnaw off an arm to get free.

At last the salesman asked humbly, “May I have my book back? It’s my only copy.”

“Yes, you may,” my father said munificently, and he opened the door and gave back the book. The exhausted salesman thanked him and left.

I learned a few things from this, not least of which is to always keep a door between me and the other person if I try a stunt like that.

On the day after Christmas, a couple of Jehovah’s Witnesses showed up at my door and were swiftly sent on their way. What I wonder is this: is December 26th the most successful proselytizing day of the year for Jehovah’s Witnesses? Say you have yet another lousy Christmas with vile, backstabbing relatives and their snotty little children, neglecting none of the family’s ritual humiliations of the season. Fa la la. Then the very next day the Jehovah’s Witnesses show up on your porch. You can hardly help but think, “Hey. Huh. On the one hand… but on the other hand, I’d never have to go through that Christmas shit again.” Seriously, I wonder if there’s a spike there.

Today’s crabbiness is brought to you by the fact that the furnace still doesn’t work. Maybe tomorrow. The romance of heating with wood is somewhat overstated. And it is still too dark out there. But I’m reading all of Transmetropolitan. You know, by Warren “Eat Bear Cocks In Hell, Godboy” Ellis. It never fails to cheer me.

These are my links for October 30th through December 20th:

• The Theory of Honest Signaling - A nontechnical introduction.
• Exploratorium: Science Snacks About Perception - A gallery of try-it-yourself perception experiments.
• Brownie Points - Beet Marshmallows - Beet powder, allspice, orange oil, and a little maple syrup, all in marshmallow form. The cook dusted them with a little more beet powder to look like blood clots and served them up as “tissue samples” for Halloween - brilliant!
• LivingSmall - Greenwashing Our Valley - What’s wrong with the Ameya development.
• Tigers & Strawberries - Is Alice Waters an Elitist Food Snob? - “What I took to be a bunch of liberals reacting to the recent full moon in a bizarre fit of sudden onset Tourette’s Syndrome is actually a case of a bunch of folks filled with liberal guilt all trying to defend their food choices all at the same time.”

I’m getting over one hell of a cold. It may be that standing in the pouring rain shoveling elephant poop is not good for me.

Other than that, I’ve been feeling really good these days. Along with the physical strength and stamina, the neurological stuff’s coming back too — I hardly ever say anything bizarre by accident anymore. No more substituting “mouth dishes” for “teeth” or “time collision” for “scheduling conflict”. I can feel the goo leaving the gears of my mind. Wouldn’t you know it, this is happening just as I’m pretty well losing interest in the life of the mind in favor of more physically grounded pursuits. And I don’t think it’s because the brainwork has gotten easier.

I said to Josh today, “Man, I used to be so abstract and philosophical-like, and now… it’s all about the wool pants and the vegetables and the chickens. But I have the distinct impression that something philosophical is gurgling away in there, informed by the real-world stuff, and that the best way to develop it is to do the real-world stuff.” Maybe in fifteen or twenty years I’ll be all over the mind-body problem or something.