Another Miracle Cure for the Near-Sighted

Do you ever wonder what your doctor is not telling you?

We here at the Research Centre have the medical answers you seek.

Did you know that most people who are near-sighted can trace their eye problems to sleep posture?  How about far-sighted people or people with astigmatism?

Yes, that’s right!  Depending on how you sleep on your side, you place an undue amount of continuous pressure on your eyeballs, pressing your pillow or your hand into your orbs and causing permanent compression problems.

Surely, you’ve noticed how you wake up in the morning and one eyeball seems to have more difficulty seeing than the other?

Don’t let that stand in your way of a life of perfect eyesight.

The Research Centre has developed a special device that fits you and only you, gently cupping the area around your eyes and preventing foreign objects from pressing against them.

Send us the 3D image of your head captured by your gaming system like a Kinect or any 3D scanning device and we will convert that image into a perfect, personalised JKin3000 Eye Protection System just for you.

No worries about your bed partner accidentally using yours.

In fact, if you order now, we’ll build a second unit for your partner at 50% off the retail price.

But wait, that’s not all!!!

If you order in the next 2 microseconds, we’ll create a whole set of eye protection systems for your entire family (limited to two adults and two children, please, although four consenting adults may enjoy this offer for just 10% more).

No more bullies at school calling your children “four eyes”!

No more cleaning sweat off your glasses after a 10 kilometre run!

But don’t take our word for it.  Listen to the way our paid actors read compensated testimonials!

“I used to worry that I wasn’t getting second dates because of my glasses.  After six weeks of wearing the JKin3000, clearing up my eyesight, it’s not my glasses that turn off dates but the giant, hairy wart at the end of my nose.  Thank you, Research Centre, for ‘opening my eyes’ to the possibilities of plastic surgery!”

“The JKin3000 saved my life.  A tree limb fell through our roof and would have ended my marriage if it weren’t for glancing off my wife’s JKin3000 instead of puncturing her skull and piercing my shoulder, instead, rendering my arm useless.  Thank you, Research Centre, for putting me on permanent disability!”

“My kids used to give me a hard time about my contact lenses, calling me old-fashioned because I wouldn’t consider LASIK surgery.  Thanks to the JKin3000, the kids no longer make fun of my contact lenses.  Instead, they call me ‘Horse Blinders’ because of the photo of me sleeping in my JKin3000 they posted on the Internet.  Thank you, Research Centre, for giving my kids something to share about me on their facebook page!”

See how the actors’ professional acting classes make the testimonials seem much more exciting!  We thought so!

Don’t delay.  Your social calendar and your life itself may depend on us.

The JKin3000 Eye Protection System is available in any other colour or pattern you choose but the first one you think of or the favourite one you prefer.

And for you do-it-yourselfers, we offer the JKin3000 Eye Protection System templates for your 3D printers.  Buy our introductory kit and start your own JKin3000 franchise from home.

The Research Centre is not responsible for the misuse of this product, which may or may not help those with imperfect eyeball shapes.  The Research Centre makes no claims that this product is anything more than a decorative item you wear for private enjoyment in your bedroom or anywhere you feel confident enough to wear modified patent-expired horse blinders in public.  Requests for refunds will be forwarded to our answering machine which we haven’t checked in the four weeks we’ve been in business.

From blacksmiths to international banking institutions…

One benefit, if benefit is the right word, of my father and mother in-law no longer an influence on my daily thought patterns, is that my mother is not one to fret over the workings of people we know only from television images and newspaper stories — the megawealthy, the overambitious politicians, the steroid-filled athletes, the exhibitionist actors, etc.

We can live taciturn lives without concern about those outside our day-to-day circle of influence.

Otherwise, I can serve on the committees that determine who gets wireless spectrum segments, whose technological development is the de facto standard, how to protect ourselves from monopolistic predators with no social benefits, and which laws protect people or corporations more.

At the end of the day, only I can truly tell myself if I am better off today than I was yesterday, or if I’ve put myself in a position to potentially be better off tomorrow.

For example, have you ever worked with a team to develop the de facto standard for a telecommunications method like ADSL?

For those who missed the whole dialup/ADSL/cable/satellite modem portion of history class, there once was a time when people were unable to get instant access to world events such as game scores, election results or regime changes except through mass media announcements.

Then, as technology progressed, we were able to communicate gossip about world events not just by landline voice lines but also through nonvoice methods like dialup modems, which some of us might only recognise through old films like “You’ve Got Mail” or ringtones that simulate a modem sync-up tone series.

Well, I guess it’s time for me to skip all that and join the new evolution in communication technology — a smartphone with builtin WiFi hotspot.

First, I’ll have to buy the smartphone, which is, for me, right now, a choice between the Samsung Galaxy SIII and the latest Nokia 9xx to be announced on 5th September (my wife leans toward the Apple iPhone 4/5 series).

Then, we’ll take the smartphones home, test their WiFi hotspot throughput, see if it’s faster than our ADSL line or a potential cable modem, and concede defeat that we can’t outcompete the advances of technology by continuing to stick with ADSL, a telecommunications method that a team I once worked with at Conexant (the descendant of Rockwell Semiconductor in the days of the Hayes modem and the AT command set) put into a play several products including a residential gateway.

After all, it doesn’t look like I’ll ever get the gigabit throughput that Chattanooga residents enjoy, let alone the speed that AT&T U-verse promises but hasn’t delivered to my household here in the so-called advanced metropolis of the Rocket City, a/k/a Huntsville, Alabama, USA, Western Hemisphere, Earth, Orion–Cygnus Arm, Milky Way galaxy, Local Group, Virgo Supercluster, Observable Universe.

In retrospective, all of this seems a bit slow, doesn’t it?

Well, we’ll leave that chapter in this story for another blog entry…

Yet Another Workday

She sat down with her friends.  “We are Womyn — hear us roar!!!” she proclaimed to the rushing waters of the river in the bottom of the canyon below them.

They rested for a moment, some taking swigs from their collapsible, BPA-free drinking jugs, some chewing on energy bars and some photographing their friends.

Palatia looked at her mobile phone.  “Does anyone have a recent photo of Ellen?  This ol’ talk show still photo doesn’t do her justice.”

The tinest piece of lint floated out of a space between Palatia’s thumb and her mobile phone.

The lint followed the invisible, random path of static electricity, air currents, solar radiation and macromolecules suspended in the dry air.

None of the day hikers knew what the lint was doing there, let alone why.

The lint had no discernible thought patterns to speak of.

But the lint was the most important link between that moment and a moment hundreds of years later.

Palatia pushed earbuds millimetres from her eardrums, cranked up some retro k.d. lang tune on her mobile phone and stood up.  “Bag your trash!  Pack your gear!  Let’s roll!”

The lint was dragged along with the hikers for a while before a cool breeze from the valley pushed up over the canyon rim and turned the lint in another direction.

History was in the making.

Palatia was a key component of the cogs and wheels of social change on the day she decided to call in sick and skip her shift at the fast food factory labeled “Grab-n-Go Burgers, 24/7.”

The deliverer of a piece of lint.

Lint that carried a genetic message.

A message intended for someone not yet “born,” the culmination of years of research, a being not quite any one species, neither completely organic nor completely electromechanical.

The lint didn’t earn a wage, didn’t pay taxes, didn’t travel roads or depend on national defense to perform its function.

The lint didn’t breathe, it didn’t eat, it didn’t earn an education, it didn’t produce heirs and it didn’t vote.

Yet the lint was more important than all the billions of people who earn a wage, pay taxes, travel roads, depend on national defense to perform their function, breathe, eat, earn an education, produce heirs and vote.

Events millions of years later in a single galaxy were traced to the piece of lint.

The lint, though inanimate, was analysed, idolised and denigrated as if it was once alive.

What if a cloud had obscured the Sun from a group of hikers one day?

What if it had rained?

More than one “if” fills volumes of historic pondering about a piece of lint.

We call them genetic markers.

The lint called itself nothing.

Yet here it is, studied as if it had intent in at least one “if.”

All because a worker in a minimum-wage job decided to tell her shift supervisor “fuck you” and take the day off, absolutely no thought about changing the course of galactic history.

Simple scenario, you ask, too simple?

The truth is plainer than you think it is.

Why Best Buy lost a sale – abbreviated version

My mother ended up getting an Emerson 39-inch LCD TV from Walmart — now waiting for friends/neighbours to install it.

Let’s back up — my mother’s email on Friday:

Rick, Thanks for your e-mail.  I went to best buy today to check on the Insigna TV there.  It was nice set, but the young man who helped me didn’t seem very  knowledgeable about TV.  It had closed caption, but he said their TV’s were not hooked up to cable, so he could not tell me about it.  That price was $279.99.  I checked back at Walmart.  They have Vizio that has a 37″ screen with 1080 p for $348.They have a product care plan for 3 yrs. for $39 and Best Buy has a plan for 4 yrs. for $49.

I know there is a difference of price between the two, but I just don’t know what to do right now.  Any ideas? Dad and I used to make decisions like this together. I guess I just don’t feel as comfortable as I should about things like this.  I do know Dad did not have much confidence in Best Buy.

I shopped at Walmart this afternoon with my wife and saw that, in addition to the 37″ Vizio, there was a 39″ Emerson for $328 with three font sizes for closed captioning.  The employees in the electronics department, Dan and Karen, were very helpful.

I told my mother about the Emerson TV after she had emailed me her concerns.

She drove to her hometown Walmart and closed the deal.

She finally emailed, “The sales-person said if it didn’t fit, I could bring it back within 90 days for a full return.”

Could Best Buy top that, or do they still charge a restocking fee?

The Headline Games

Working with my colleagues in policy thinktanks funded by large governments public businesses like China and Russia, I wanted to prove that no nation takes itself completely seriously.

We put together a few future stories in our ongoing pasttime of the Headline Games.

What is one of the atheistic countries with the most self-absorbed leader on this planet?  North Korea, of course.

What is one of the most martyr-themed, theocratic countries on this planet?  Iran, of course.

Then, let’s play a round of the Headline Games to maneuver the two countries to make a deal with each other.

That way, we prove that a theocrat will bed with an infidel with no chance of conversion but plenty of blasphemous profit to benefit them both — spreading atheism and false idol worship in equal measures; an atheist is never so happy as to make love with a theocrat and have pocket change to spare on activities that have nothing to do with glorifying/worshiping/serving a god.

All governments public businesses, you see, are fungible.

One is the same as another.

We may argue the finer points of freedom — whether one may practice one’s beliefs in public or in private only — but let us not split hairs over spilt milk.

The water did not pass under the bridge, it took the bridge with it in a flash flood, much the same as the role of living under the auspices of a public business we call entities like China, Russia, Luxembourg, the United States or the Cherokee Nation.

In the business of globalisation, we allow the protectors of their subcultural practices to carry the banners bearing their beliefs; however, we expect them to behave correctly, conforming to the international business standards to which they all must bow and pray at the end of the day, regardless of the god(s) they do or do not claim is/are responsible for their origin stories.

We in the leisure hours of playing the Headline Games ply our trade, regardless of the tools we use (you) to accomplish goals we want to share with you but you would not understand, having no knowledge of the communication methods your society has not matured enough to learn (yet).

Humour is a given, a public key to unlock the mysteries of the mysterymaking business.

Let us look at the emperour’s new clothes and old hat tricks to show you what we mean…

What I went through with my mother in-law in 1997…

…I go through with my mother in 2012.

My mother in-law was 80 years of age when her husband died.  My mother was 78 when her husband died.

In both cases, as in any longterm relationship between two people, the survivor learns new forms of daily decisionmaking.

My mother in-law depended on her now-deceased son and living daughter (my wife) to help her make decisions after their father died.

My mother depends on my sister and me to help her make decisions after our father died.

When my father in-law died, my wife was almost 35.

When my father died, I was 50.

In between: fifteen years of wisdom gathered through life experiences, some shared between us, some accumulated individually.

Fifteen years of social changes/progress, including new technology (think about how much the Internet has changed in 15 years), new businesses, failed businesses, climate change, fashion cycles, pop music tastes, entertainment choices, medical science advances, etc.

Are we more or less tolerant of Iranian atheists/humanists?  Liberal Quakers?  Non-heterosexual relationships?  Physical/mental challenges?  The unemployed?  Cute cat videos?

Is there room in your life for a late night TV talk show host with a robotic skeleton and cloth-horse costumed actor(s)?

Would there have been such a creature 15 years ago?  Could he have been a reformed Scottish alcoholic comedian?  Do such creatures exist in real life today?

I learned a new phrase today: conformity to tomorrow (from book, “Without Apology: The Heroes, the Heritage, and the Hope of Liberal Quakerism” by Chuck Fager [which I read, quickly, in the book section of Unclaimed Baggage Center]):

“Conformity to tomorrow: …consists in a moderate opposition to the existing political power, together with the espousal of the ideas and doctrines of the most sensitive, the most visionary, the most appealing trend in society. This is a trend which, from the sociological point of view, is already dominant, and is the one which should normally be expected to win out….In this way, the political stand has the appearance of being independent, whereas in reality it is the expression of an avant-garde conformism.” (Jacques Ellul, a French Reformed theologian and sociologist, 1972A, p. 123.)

I would toss musical acts like Rage Against The Machine, political groups like the Tea Party and Occupy Wall Street, and economic movements like the EU handling of the PIIGS into the realm of avant-garde conformism, as well as most official social protest groups not included in terrorist lists for “wanted: dead or alive” drone attacks.

We always have to have enemies toward whom we formally direct our confusion/fear-based hatred.

But, as usual, I digress.

Earlier today, at a roadside restaurant called Carlile’s in Scottsboro, Alabama, a town where a plentiful plethora of people met for camaraderie and shopping bargains, my wife and I held a wonderful discussion with Autumn, mother of three boys aged 7, 6 and 2, the first taking the role of the responsible eldest (“Mom told you not to do that”), the second a quiet child who puts up with the physical shenanigans of his two brothers, and the youngest, the rowdiest one of the bunch.

Autumn, raised by her grandparents, lost them both nine months apart five years ago.  The emptiness inside is slowly, very slowly, wrapped up in new friendships and new experiences we call the passage of time.

When she wants to turn to her grandparents for guidance, they are not there and she feels an instant pang of pain.

Although she has a beautiful tattoo of a heart on her arm where every one of her three boys first rested and for whom she tattooed their names, she would never tattoo the names of her grandparents or the name of her husband on her body because the reminder of their losses, in plain ink visible under skin, would be too much to bear (beauty is not the only thing that’s skin-deep).

She, like all parents, believes deep down that her kids will outlive her, their futures bright.

To those who’ve lost their children to congenital conditions, I give you my sympathy.  No one wants to survive the death of offspring with a promising future.

My wife outlived her parents and her only sibling.

I have outlived my father but not my mother and my only sibling.

As this storyline grows more complicated, my life and the lives of my family members are intricately intertwined.

Not a loss, not a gain nor a zero-sum game is life.

The sets of states of energy are constantly in flux.

Every waking moment is an opportunity to learn.

Is new technology an enabler of your relatively expensive entertainment addictions or an avenue of opportunity for increased wealth?  Does it increase the credit or debit side of your account ledger?  In other words, do you go into debt to play games and watch videos?

These and other questions lead us to thought trails about the costs and benefits of a globally-connected economy, where plenty of leisure is available to the masses.

If this laptop computer and these blog entries are using up CPU cycles for the sole purpose of entertaining myself, is that okay?

What about the urgency to act, the desire to change our society significantly so that spare CPU cycles are used to ensure survival of Earth-based lifeforms here and elsewhere as long as potential energy states are available to support them in this part of the universe?

Does it matter if the majority of our species believes in self-centered activities?

What are a few decades compared to 1000 years?

What is 1000 years compared to 200 million?

Can we really know the future, no matter how much we bunch together to conform to one vision knowingly, unknowingly, voluntarily and/or coercively?

All for the sake of family, whatever that means to you/me/us?

Books galore

While the remnants of hurricanes and typhoons perform their whirlwind dances, stranding, killing, dousing, removing the doubts of droughts (and draughts (or drafts) of drafts (or draughts)), the author returns to the habit of bookreading, starting with Ringleyville USA.

Next on the list (typed on an Apple iPad at a Barnes and Noble Cafe):

1. “Writing and Difference” by Jacques Derrida, (c) 1978
2. “What Money Can’t Buy: The Moral Limits of Markets” by Michael J. Sandel, (c) 2012
3. “Religion for Atheists: A Non-believer’s Guide to the Uses of Religion” by Alain de Botton, (c) 2012

Patrons walk through the store, browsing like eddies spun off from the whirlwinds of society — business, leisure, school — stirring up dust mites, mighty dust, dirl devils and other remnants of life billions of ago on Mars.

In the distance, Chinese leaders secure relationships with Indian and German leaders, both political and business, Iran uses the Syrian infighting for further diversions from its national nuclear weaponry plans, crape myrtle bushes shed the last of the summer’s petals, and our tiny planet participates in the whirlwinds spun out by an imaginatively big galaxy.

In the last instance is the focus of our story, for we need the distance between our tale and our species to get away from men carrying baby carriages with their foamy lattes and mothers taking their tiny children for frothy milk and cookies on a Friday afternoon, husbands using the calendar coupon on the last day of August for a free spicy chicken sandwich at Chick Fil-A to get out of the house and explore why fiction that doesn’t include us DOES include us.

All in the name of entertainment to explain why a pebble in a pond is just the intersection of differing dense sets of states of energy.

The Huntsville shuttle bus speeds through the Jones Valley Farm shopping Centre.

When will the first tourista-nauts sit in their luxury weightless orbits, staring out of portholes at the thin atmosphere that separates us from the relative vacuum of space?

It is the answer that carries us to a question 1000 years from now.

Philosophy, religion, economy, politics — these subjects weigh down and anchor our thoughts to this moment.

Without these subjects, we create people who are not people, sentient beings whose “organs” are spread across the solar system, similar to us in some ways but much better at rapid thought processing and self-replication than us as we know ourselves now.

That is the object of the subjects of this storyline, the tale that weaves in and out of our lives from a fourth dimensional distance.

It does not care about gender preferences, origin stories, employment rates or tax burdens.

Progress is not its middle name.

The storyline is.

It exists, speaking all languages and no language, soaking in solar rays and cosmic rays, emitting energy like there’s no tomorrow.

Let the tale begin the beguine again…