Mandsikjhfeuidfgyireifgsdfgwrgfwrifgi

I swear, the title of this post is extremely accurate. It reflects *exactly* what is going on in my head at the moment. What went on in my head yesterday, when I was supposed to post this. Topical Tuesday. I even had a topic (St. Lucy's Day), or exams (very topical for me, since I am going through them at the moment, albeit in a very different way than I've ever done before because I'm not taking them this year, but rather grading them... I swear, I'd rather take them!), or even the weather (we're having spring, I'm sure - all our lovely snow seems to be melting! Drat!)

But no. Before I had the chance to transfer my ideas to paper (or, more accurately, screen), they ended up in fhegiakfiutygihbhjgilwdjafgyg and *poof* I forgot the whole post. Until now. When I write it, it will still be up for an hour and a half before the next one (and much better one, I'm sure) ticks in. Not that it is a huge loss. I'm sure today's actual post will be much more thought-through and well-written than this one, not to mention the topic will not be lkhjefiudshfjkhfuiryifkdghfshdgfj.

In the meantime, though, let me muse a little over cbnsdjkghdgcsdcuhjasdgj:

Papers that need to be graded, need to be graded.

Jobs that need to be done, need to be done.

In English, you cannot write "they claims" and expect to get away with it. It are annoying!

Sometimes you have to make sacrifices. Sometimes they suck.

Friends are essential.

Suck it up!

Can you have your cake and eat it too? Won't we always try?

What's in a smile? When a person lights up when seeing you, should you draw hasty conclusions?

We want what we can't have, we hold on to what we don't need, and sometimes it's impossible to see the difference.

It doesn't matter what you believe in. Believe.

Yoga and boxing.

Wsdofhudgfiuweyjkcfjdyfuweudpqwuiryfwyfuvjgai.

Delusional Thursday: An Alien Abduction

For some reason, I thought Thursday fell on Friday. An easy mistake to make, right?

So, running a bit late, I'm going to post a raw transcript of my most recent alien abduction experience. I'd originally planned to edit this and write it up as a more interesting story, but at least this way you can read all of the sordid details uncensored.



SUBJECT 147: Oohh... my head. [moaning, something unintelligible] Are you going to hurt me?

CAPTAIN MAL: Z`ww apa^a kho ypsin o'h''ll nd configure the translator. Please restate.

SUBJECT 147: Are you going to hurt me?

CAPTAIN MAL: Not intentionally.

SUBJECT 147: Where am I?

CAPTAIN MAL: [muffled hum in the background] One moment. [clicking noise] What do you think?

SUBJECT 147: I think you're, um, an alien.

CAPTAIN MAL: Not, perhaps, a demon?

SUBJECT 147: Uh, no. What-- why would I think that?

CAPTAIN MAL: [scratching noise] Excellent. We may assume your planet has at least nominal technology. Tell me about your species.

SUBJECT 147: You don't... am I the first one you abducted?

CAPTAIN MAL: I'm asking the questions, here. Please make no assumptions and answer to the best of your ability.

SUBJECT 147: Um, okay. We're, uh... a peaceful people.

CAPTAIN MAL: Bullshit.

SUBJECT 147: What?

CAPTAIN MAL: A truly peaceful species, lacking the concept of war, would not think to say such a thing.

SUBJECT 147: Um, we're mostly-- we try to be peaceful.

CAPTAIN MAL: Really? My species is quite warlike. And yet, with your allegedly peaceful nature freeing up more resources for development, we've surpassed you to the extent that I am the abductor and you are the abductee. How do you explain that?

SUBJECT 147: I don't-- um, maybe you're older. You know, your sun and stuff, and your planet formed before ours did.

CAPTAIN MAL: Are you seriously blaming your sun for your developmental ineptitude?

SUBJECT 147: [mumbling]

CAPTAIN MAL: Tell me, if we were to invade, where on your planet would be most vulnerable to a preemptive orbital bombing strike?

SUBJECT 147: Um... please don't---

CAPTAIN MAL: Hah! I'm joking. Location is irrelevant, as a mere fraction of our arsenal could bomb your entire planet into a state of uninhabitability.

SUBJECT 147: My God, that's sick!

CAPTAIN MAL: Yes. Moving on, then, let's try some word association. I'm going to say a word, and then I want you to say the first word that comes to mind, whatever it is, without hesitation. Understand?

SUBJECT 147: Um, yes.

CAPTAIN MAL: Hands--
SUBJECT 147: Feet.

CAPTAIN MAL: Sex--
SUBJECT 147: Love.

CAPTAIN MAL: Copulation--
SUBJECT 147: Um, sex.

CAPTAIN MAL: Toes--
SUBJECT 147: Feet.

CAPTAIN MAL: Fornication--
SUBJECT 147: Sex.

CAPTAIN MAL: Shoes--
SUBJECT 147: Feet.

CAPTAIN MAL: Intercourse--
SUBJECT 147: Um, copulation.

CAPTAIN MAL: [scratching noise] You've got quite the fetish, my friend.

SUBJECT 147: I don't-- no, I don't.

CAPTAIN MAL: Let's proceed with the physical examination. [buzzing noise, dripping liquid]

SUBJECT 147: [long pause] Please don't probe my anus.

CAPTAIN MAL: Oh fer-- I did that one time! I mistook it for the nourishment entrance.

SUBJECT 147: I'm not hungry!

CAPTAIN MAL: Try to relax. I'm going to move into the light, now. Don't be alarmed by my appearance.

SUBJECT 147: [gulps] You're so... hairless. Except the top of your, um, head.

CAPTAIN MAL: We evolved away from excessive hair because it harbored parasites. But if you think about it, we're actually quite similar.

SUBJECT 147: What's that triangle thingy above your mouth?

CAPTAIN MAL: An external olfactory organ. Now, be quiet and hold still.

SUBJECT 147: [whimpers] Please...

CAPTAIN MAL: Chill out. I'm already finished. [scratching noise] What is your given name among your kind?

SUBJECT 147: Miklazg. Miklazg Gwivver.

CAPTAIN MAL: Well, Miklazg-miklazg-gwivver, my name is "Jason". Can you pronounce that?

SUBJECT 147: [garbled]

CAPTAIN MAL: Our session is nearly finished. Now I will allow you to ask one question of me.

SUBJECT 147: Oh, wow. Um, let me think. [pause] How many-- no, wait. [long pause] How can we make contact with an intelligent species? Beyond our own planet?

CAPTAIN MAL: Interesting. [scratching noise, muffled beep]

SUBJECT 147: Well? How can we do it?

CAPTAIN MAL: I said nothing about providing an answer. Please lay back while I anaesthetize you for the return journey.

SUBJECT 147: Are you going to, um, erase my memories?

CAPTAIN MAL: Ah, that! No, we have a simple, new technique that ensures our security and anonymity whilst addressing all of our concerns about your mental well-being.

SUBJECT 147: What's that? The techinque?

CAPTAIN MAL: We do nothing. No one of intelligence will believe you.

SUBJECT 147: Oh. Right. And my, um, mental well-being...?

CAPTAIN MAL: --does not concern us at all.



I enjoyed my visit with Miklazg-miklazg-gwivver, but I had to let the poor bastard go before completing the full routine. Sometimes they're just too tense about the anal probe. But I'll get the next one.


Cheers,
Jason

Inspection Time

The Visitor
I work for a big retail chain, whose name I won't mention here. But it's a retail chain and it's very big (hint, hint). My store recently had the "privilege" of hosting a big-shot visitor from corporate headquarters, something that happens only about once every year.

Fortunately(?), our gang is well-rehearsed in the preparations for visits from a regional manager, visits that happen every couple of months, and were able to spring (stumble) into action several days before the arrival of Ms. Corporate Executive.

The preparatory technique was most apparent to me as I was stocking shelves a few days after the visit: I would open a new box of merchandise, find the proper shelf location (using my excellent memory), and discover that it was already stuffed with the wrong product (one that was fully stocked in its own proper location); the original label had been yanked, and another (typically incorrect) label had been hastily placed to vaguely match the stuffed product.

This roughly quadrupled my workload. Instead of merely putting the new merchandise in its home, I had to (1) research the situation to discover what was what, (2) remove the bad label and make a new one, and (3) repack the extra merchandise in an improvised container to be stored in the back room. Hundreds of extra labor hours were scheduled, at a cost of thousands of dollars, just for the purpose of creating this mess.

It was all done quite deliberately for the "benefit" of Ms. Corporate Executive. Things like empty shelves and piles of unlogged back room merchandise reveal operational deficiencies. My own naïve thinking is that it would be wonderful for Ms. Executive to see these, because she (allegedly) has the executive wisdom to correct our errors, and (purportedly) the executive power to correct the source of problems if such is beyond our control.

What am I missing? My first hypothesis is that Ms. Executive is a blithering idiot.

My second hypothesis is that Ms. Executive is vaguely responsible for the state of our store and is afraid to look bad to her own superiors. Therefore, she warns us well in advance of her visit. Then, she gives the store exactly the casual appraisal, a wide-view visual inspection, that she knows we expect from her, one that ignores a multitude of costly errors at the level of finer detail. She concludes by sending us a glowing letter of praise, a copy of which is no doubt made for her own performance file. But if this hypothesis is true, then her own superiors must be blithering idiots.

Either way, someone is a blithering idiot.


(S)ET(I)
In the search for intelligence, let us therefore turn our immediate attention to the stars. If no extraterrestrial intelligence exists, the question is moot; or, if they do exist but will never contact us, they may as well not exist at all.

So let's assume, as the only relevant case, that alien intelligence does exist, and they might eventually contact us. What sort of logical conclusions can be drawn?

First, if there are two intelligent species in the universe (us and them), then there ought to be thousands, perhaps millions, within an advanced technology's range of contact. There should also be millions of other planets that are currently developing intelligence, either on their own or as a result of more primitive organisms being seeded. The universe is just sooooo big.

But not all species are advanced enough for interstellar travel and communication (we're not). Therefore, a finite number of species must have divided the task of watching developing civilizations amongst themselves, in addition to the tasks of maintaining ambassadors with one another and keeping watch on life-bearing but pre-intelligent planets.

Ergo, there is some kind of 'Earth Committee' that has been tasked with handling humanity. Such a committee must be concerned with potential long-term threats from Earth, because no species can evolve without an instinct for self-preservation. But they must have some morality of benevolence, or at least tolerance, because they have not destroyed us, as an advanced civilization could have easily done long ago.


Second, there is no need to search for them. In a few decades at most, we will have the technology to detect chemical signs of life on distant planets. These signs (such as free oxygen in the atmosphere) have been detectable on Earth for hundreds of millions of years. Therefore, the Earth Committee has known about us for a very long time, and would have already placed monitoring stations nearby (perhaps in the Kuyper Belt). When they feel the time is right, they will contact us.


Third, they have not openly contacted us. But with nanobots or even microscopic robots, there is no technological barrier that prevents them from influencing events on Earth.


How does that all add up? The Earth Committee is responsible for Earth. And Earth is a mess. If they show up now, it will make them look bad; and even if their superiors/peers are understanding, the Earth Committee will still be looking at a tremendous slate of problems. I think they'd rather not be burdened with all of that.

Still, I'd like a visit. Fixing our problems isn't practical, but there's something else we can do to make dropping in a more palatable proposition for the Committee: We can phoney things up.


Prepping the Planet
Let's focus on the most visible problems first-- like deforestation. What would the Earth Committee think of clear-cutting? Sure, we could explain that timber companies don't cut down their own young trees any more than a hog farmer slaughters piglets, and that rotational clear-cutting is sometimes more efficient in the long run. But not all clear-cutting happens as part of a good management plan. More to the point, the aliens don't want to hear about it. So here's what we do: Everybody needs to haul their plastic Christmas Tree out of the attic and drive it out to the nearest bare patch.

They'll believe because they WANT to believe.

Simple, right? Next environmental problem: Global warming. The temperature is, unfortunately, as plain as the time of day. Now I, for one, would love to hear some advice from an advanced intelligence, just as I would have loved to hear Ms. Executive explain why some of our shelves were empty. Maybe the aliens would tell us to spend ten more years developing infrastructure so we could afford to cut emissions for the next hundred; maybe they'd tell us that we're out of time and have to cut them now; maybe they'd tell us to stop focusing on carbon and research ways to stimulate the growth of plankton. But, again, they don't want to get involved! We simply have to hide it.

As plain as the time of day, did I say? Yes, indeed. And just as easy to obfuscate. My clock currently says 11:21 a.m.; More specifically, that's 11:21 a.m. Pacific Time; Rarely, scientifically, anal-retentively, someone might be ultra-precise and say that it's 11:21 a.m. Pacific Daylight Time, because in reality it's only 10:21 a.m. Pacific Standard Time.

Voila! We create a new temperature scale, which I hearby christen 'Centigreat'. Water freezes at -2 degrees Centigreat and boils at 98 Centigreat. Now everybody set your thermometers back two degrees and get used to the new scale.


War and violence... tricky. Or perhaps not. I recommend that every army and paramilitary organization simply keep a suicide note on file for each of their combat personnel. If they don't write one, forge it, or just claim its existence. The deceased can't contradict you when you say that he died willingly, even eagerly, for the promise of greater rewards. Problem solved. Who says we can't learn from terrorists?


Poverty and starvation? Again, I'd love to hear the alien's take on this. Perhaps they'd tell us to adopt a North Korean-style system of social ownership and central directives. Maybe they'd suggest the Hong Kong economic model, where private property encourages the creation of capital goods and people are free to produce without begging permission from those who produce nothing. Unfortunately, the more obvious the answer, the more embarrassed the Earth Committee will be if confronted by it. Therefore, I recommend we produce several billion of those t-shirts that are silk-screened to look the front of a tuxedo and distribute them to the world's poor. Heck, with lower-grade fabrics and mass production, it should be possible to give them real ones.

'Cause you just can't look poor and starving while wearing a tuxedo.


What about shortages of energy? Food? Health care? For anything else that looks impossible to fix, and difficult to disguise, we should just create a high-level organization. Declining education? How about a Department of Education-- I mean, it's a freakin' Cabinet-level department! Lack of capital? Let's set up a World Bank-- come on, it's totally, like, global. It doesn't matter if any particular institution can't improve things, or even makes them worse. What's important is that we appear to be doing something, so the Earth Committee has something positive to put in its report.


Cheers,
Jason