Remains of the day



International Vegetarian Union: Anatomy Model Woman
Advertising Agency: JWT Kuwait
Creative Directors: Alessandro Antonini, Mark Makhoul
Photographer: Tommy Morris
Retoucher: Nabil Kamara
Published: August 2009

I want to use both photos in my Meat book.  First one has crap for credits though.



This is awesome.
http://www.twoyoutubevideosandamotherfuckingcrossfader.com/




Digital Tattoo Interface Turns Your Skin Into A Display



Well then, let's go shopping!

Want to price compare and see if humans really are needed anymore.  I needed humans to help me find exactly what I needed, but it wasn't 100% and what cost did it come at?

Office Depot
Binder $1
Protective Sheets $5
Dividing Pockets $2.50
2 DuoTang Folders $1

Home Depot
6 Hook Screws $2
Sandpaper $1.50
1/2" 90* PVC Elbow $1
Shower Arm to Hose Adapter $3
Hose to Kitchen Faucet Adapter $4
7/16" Nut $0.16

AutoZone
4 Valve Caps $2

Sports Authority
Stopwatch (refused to buy as cheapest was $16)

Real World Bill:  $23.16 and 1 hour



Amazon.com
Binder $3
Protective Sheets $13
Dividing Pockets $7
2 DuoTang Folders (not available)
200 Hook Screws $7
Sandpaper $4
1/2" 90* PVC Elbow $3
Shower Arm to Hose Adapter $20
Hose to Kitchen Faucet Adapter $20



Let's just stop the experiment now.  For the single pieces of specific tools that you need, it's worth it to do the footwork.

Short Batman story: The Kneecapper

The Kneecapper


Detectives gathered around a poker table to investigate a murder.  A man sat in his chair, bludgeoned to death from behind.  In front of him, a stack of chips, all the chips at the table.  The other four people wear gone.

“Odd that the other gamblers killed him and left the chips,” said Gordon.

“I don't think the other gamblers did kill him,” said Batman, walking past Gordon from the shadows.  Gordon had long since stopped being surprised by his mysterious entrances, “And the leftover chips indicate that the other gamblers didn't want to win whatever they were playing for.”

Batman knelt down and removed tweezers from his belt then removed a hair from between the floorboards.  It had little white pieces stuck to it.

“Bone and hair from the victim?” asked Gordon.

“Maybe.  I'll take a look back at the lab,” said Batman as he pocketed the evidence.  Gordon had also long since stopped protesting his removal of evidence.

Under a microscope it became clear that while the fiber was indeed hair, the specks were teeth not bone.  They were very small chips of teeth with very small holes drilled in them for the hair.

“Voodoo, sir?” inquired Alfred.

“Looks that way.  To force evil spirits to attack a victim you need a piece of them.  The more you have, the more powerful the spirit.  Or so they say.  The sample isn't from the victim, but shares partial DNA with him.  It's pieces of immediate family.  Probably a brother,” Batman said, leaving the sample on the slide under the microscope.  He tapped his earpiece in his cowl, “Oracle?”

“Online,” replied Barbara Gordon.

“Send the files of known murderers with connections to voodoo to the Batmobile.  There was a murder tonight in the backroom of Dumas Pub.  I'm going to the police station to talk to Gordon about the victim's family.”

“Dumas Pub?  Harley Quinn just turned herself in for stealing the money at a poker game there.”

Batman jumped into the Batmobile, “Turned herself in?”

“Yeah, I'm watching the feed from Arkham.   She looks terrified.  My dad's there, too.”

“I'll head to Arkham.  Keep me posted,” Batman said as he hung up on Oracle.
At Arkham Asylum, Harley Quinn beat her fists against the plexiglass.  The side of her face was pressed against it, smearing makeup as she yelled down the hall to guards, “You gotta protect my puddin'!  Call the police!  Call the national guard!  Call the...”

Lightning flashed and thunder cracked and in front of the plexiglass stood the Dark Knight.

“Batman,” finished Harley Quinn with a whimper as she backed up.  She then took a step forward and addressed him with urgency, “You gotta go check on Mistah J, Bats!  The Kneecapper's gonna get him cause of me.”

“Tell me about the Kneecapper,” said Batman.  He knew from studying psychology how to ask questions to manic individuals to get the most information.

“Kneecapper goes after whoever makes you who you are.  He takes them away from you.  He kills them to cripple you.  You mess with his scroll and that's all it takes.  Then he tracks down your special somebody and whacks them to pieces!”

Batman stood for a second to see if she was finished, “What makes you think he's real?”

“Look, I admit it!  I robbed the Dumas Pub,” she trailed off talking to herself, “I thought it was a funny name.  DUMas, duMAS, get it?  It's misspelled, but I still think it's funny.”

“And you found the scroll,” Batman said to bring her back to the story.

“Well yeah.  I went for the cash, but mixed in with the cash was some watches, some jewelry, some IOUs, some deeds, and another piece of paper that I figured was just another deed or something, but it was the scroll!  I didn't even think it existed!  But I touched it and now my puddin's gonna die for it!”

She banged her fists against the plexiglass to emphasize the final statement.  Batman stood still and emotionless and then turned to leave, his cape sweeping around him.

“You gotta protect him!  You gotta protect Mistah J, Batman!” she screamed as he walked down the hall.
Gordon thanked the Arkham guards for the company.  It was his way of asking them to leave so he could take the evidence back to the precinct.

Gordon smirked, “You won't surprise me this time.  We heard Harley yelling at you from the other side of the building.”

Gordon turned to his right and lost his smirk.  No one there.  As he turned back, he was startled to see Batman looking over the table of evidence.

Batman started in, “If you heard her, you heard about some scroll or piece of paper.  I want to see if that's what our victim was killed for.”

Gordon lifted a stack of papers and put them in the center of the pile of loot.  He leafed through them quickly until he found one older than the rest in a language he didn't understand.

“This what you want?” he asked as he handed it to Batman.

“It's in Langaj, the language of voodoo,” said Batman.

“What does it say?”

“The bearer be crippled,” responded Batman as he exited the room bearing the scroll.

Harley Quinn finally had to be sedated for the night, but awoke early the next morning, gripping the side of her cheek

“Ob, my toob!” she complained.

After being restrained, she was taken to the medical center of Arkham Asylum and a cursory examination revealed a large cavity in one of her teeth.  She was returned to her cell with some Darvocet and a dentist was scheduled to visit the Asylum later in the week.
The night following the poker room murder, Joker lay in his bed, completely unaware of Harley Quinn's concerns, capture, or caper.  Alone in his padded cell with no windows and bolted down furniture, he entertained himself by staging a production of A Midsummer Night's Dream with his toenails as the principal players.

A soft skritching noise interrupted the play, however.

“Hey, no heckling from the cheap seats!” yelled the Joker.  The two guards outside his cell had long learned not to listen to anything he said.  In fact, they only opened his meal slot to push in his food and take back his plate.  The last person to look in the slot at the Joker's request lost both his eyes, his septum and his ability to whistle.

Still the skritch skritch skritch continued, audible only to the Joker.

He got down on his hands and knees off his bed and tried to locate the sound of the noise.  If it was an escape, he wanted in.  Eventually a corner of the cell was located as the source of the sound.  Joker scratched back at the surface and the skritching stopped.  He scratched twice and received two skritches in response.  There was someone on the other side scratching through.  He checked the door, then began to work at the padding in the corner of his cell, removing the protective layers until finally a small hole, about 2 inches in diameter was revealed.

“Come out, come out, whoever you are!” sang the Joker

At first nothing moved.  Then a small pink nose came into the light, followed by white whiskers, brown beady eyes, and brown fur.  Joker reached quickly and snatched up the rat.

“So you're the peanut gallery that's been interrupting my play,” chided the Joker, “Naughty naughty.  Now what's this you have?”

Joker took his finger and pulled from out of the rat's fur a small rat necklace.  It was a blonde hair with small hard white bits looped around the rat's neck.

The rat bit the Joker's finger, forcing him to drop the rodent, “Ah!  You diseased infectious exile!  I thought we were sympatico!”

The rat fell and as he straightened himself up began to grow, up onto its hindlegs and into a large man with dark skin and tattoos across his body.

“Oooo,” the Joker smile childlike, “a magic show!”

The large man grabbed the Joker by the shoulders and slammed him into the bolted down bed, then threw him against the wall.  The Joker straightened himself, then kicked him in the groin and stuck a thumb in his eye.  The large man stood there, emotionless and not registering pain, with an eye that turned bloodshot.

The door to the cell flung open as one of the guards lept on the back of the large man and cut off the blood supply to the carotid arteries.  The large man swung around, and slammed the guard against the wall, but was unable to dislodge his attacker.  He finally fell to his knees and Joker kicked him in the face.  Looking Joker in the eyes, with blood trickling down his nose, he fell to his hands and knees and quickly shrank back into a rat and scurried out the hole as the Joker lept after him and missed, slamming face first into the wall.

“OoooOOoooh...” moaned Joker as he turned to see the guard gone and the door relocked.  Joker crawled up to the meal slot and pulled it open.  Outside his door he saw one unconscious guard and one guard's uniform.  Next to the uniform was a mask made to look like the guard that saved his life.

“Oh, Batman, honey.  You just can't stay away from me, can you?” he mused, grinning evilly through the meal slot.







Gordon woke up with a sore tooth.


Pills, pills, pills

Mirtazapine 15mg – 1 at bedtime (anti-depressant)


Citalopram 20mg - 1 at breakfast (anti-depressant)


Diazepam 10mg – 1 at bedtime (sedative)


Lithium Carbonate 300mg – 1 at breakfast and 1 at bedtime (anti-mania)


Risperidone 1mg - half at breakfast and half at bedtime (anti-psychotic and anti-bipolar)


Lovaza 1000mg – 1 at breakfast and 1 at bedtime (cholesterol)


Niaspan 500mg – 1 at bedtime (cholesterol)


Omeprazole 40mg – 1 at breakfast (ulcer)



That's what I take every day, in addition to vitamins and supplements. I'm a crazy insomniac with an ulcer and elevated cholesterol.


I decided to do my due diligence and shop around for my prescriptions. I told the pharmacies that I had no insurance to get the raw prices they charged. I figure that would be the best way to find who was charging the least overall.



The Walmart Experience

Wally World was first on my list and there were lines at the pick-up counter and at the drop off counter, but not the consultation counter. I walked up to the counter and looked in expectantly. In the next ten minutes, I fiddled around with everything, including other people's prescription bags and diabetic syringes. I wasn't helped until I yelled, “Hey! I can reach the syringes!” Then someone scooted over and took my list of medications.

Out of the eight prescriptions on the list, three were incorrectly quoted back to me.

Total: $366*

*Cost lowered by mistakes made and recommendation of Niacin over Niaspan.


The Publix Experience

I like going to Publix for prescriptions. The pharmacists are on a raised platform. It's like walking up to the judge's seat in court. And since they hand down pills, it's like getting ambrosia from the gods. Friendly and helpful, they got all the prescriptions right.

Total: $305


Walgreens

Walgreens was the least fun pharmacy to go to. There was one window and two windows were blocked off with boxes. So uninviting. They did have a special card that if you pay $20 a year, you get a special PSC price on your pills.

Total: $579

With PSC: $471


CVS

CVS had the friendliest, most helpful pharmacists who answered the most questions and seemed genuinely interested in my concerns. This is the only pharmacy where my pharmacist introduced himself by his first name, Naresh. Naresh pointed me in all the right directions to get the best prices. CVS had good prices, but they got even better with a Health Savings Pass, a $10 card that got me a bunch of pills for free.

Total: $394

With HSP: $316



Of course, I do have some insurance and even though there's an ungodly deductible before the benefits “kick in,” pharmacutical companies give a benefit even if you have insurance. So I ended up going with CVS with the HSP card and my insurance kickbacks.

Total: $60



A Self Centered Man at the Gateway Center Massacre Reports

Victims dead and wounded.  Terrified office workers barricading themselves inside offices.  So traffic is backed up.  Why does this always happen to me?

Seriously, a white male former consultant in a blue polo shirt and jeans had to go and start firing at former co-workers during my drive back from Chipotle?  He couldn't have waited 10 minutes before walking from floor to floor.

Sgt Barbara Jones may say, “Security is paramount because the shooter is on the loose or in the building” but to me it just sounds like “You're going to catch hell from your boss because you're going to be late coming back from lunch.”

Sure, the majority of the building is cleared.  At least that's better than when they were finding shooting victims on every floor they checked.  No official ID on the shooter, though he was identified by a witness.

Man, I wish my A/C was working.


I ignored my RSS feeds for a couple days and this is the most interesting stuff I missed.

Are You a Cognitive Miser?

by Sean

Jack is looking at Anne, but Anne is looking at George. Jack is married, but George is not. Is a married person looking at an unmarried person?

A) Yes.

B) No.

C) Cannot be determined.

This is from this month’s Scientific American — article unfortunately costs money. It’s about “dysrationalia,” which is what happens when people with nominally high IQ’s end up thinking irrationally. A phenomenon I’m sure we’ve all encountered, especially in certain corners of the blogosphere.

And the answer is the first option. But over 80 percent of people choose the third option. Here’s the solution: the puzzle doesn’t say whether Anne is married or not, but she either is or she isn’t. If Anne is married, she’s looking at George, so the answer is “yes”; if she’s unmarried, Jack is looking at her, so the answer is still “yes.” The underlying reason why smart people get the wrong answer is (according to the article) that they simply don’t take the time to go carefully through all of the possibilities, instead taking the easiest inference. The patience required to go through all the possibilities doesn’t correlate very well with intelligence.


REVIEW OF AN ANTI-MEAT BOOK:  http://www.newyorker.com/arts/critics/books/2009/11/09/091109crbo_books_kolbert

Seriously, this is creeping me out

LOOK!  A Bald Bear.


(513): You tried to wear your Jesus costume into Family Christian stores and say it was a book signing.


"Five Myths About Our Land of Opportunity"

Five myths about social mobility from Isabel V. Sawhill and Ron Haskins of Brookings:
Five Myths About Our Land of Opportunity, by Isabel V. Sawhill and Ron Haskins, Brookings: Americans have always believed that their country is unique in providing the opportunity to get ahead. ... But rising unemployment and financial turmoil are puncturing that self-image. The reality of this "land of opportunity" is considerably more complex than the myths would suggest:
1. Americans enjoy more economic opportunity than people in other countries.
Actually, some other advanced economies offer more opportunity than ours does. For example, recent research shows that in the Nordic countries and in the United Kingdom, children born into a lower-income family have a greater chance than those in the United States of forming a substantially higher-income family by the time they're adults.
If you are born into a middle-class family in the United States, you have a roughly even chance of moving up or down the ladder by the time you are an adult. But the story for low-income Americans is quite different; going from rags to riches in a generation is rare. ...
2. In the United States, each generation does better than the past one.
As a result of economic growth, each generation can usually count on having a higher income, in inflation-adjusted dollars, than the previous one. ... But that kind of steady progress appears to have stalled. Today, men in their 30s earn 12 percent less than the previous generation did at the same age.
The main reason today's families have modestly higher overall income than prior generations is simple:... Women have joined the labor force in a big way, and their earnings have increased as well. But with so many families now having two earners, continued progress along this path will be difficult unless wages for both men and women rise more quickly.
3. Immigrant workers and the offshoring of jobs drive poverty and inequality in the United States.
Although immigration and trade are often blamed, a more important reason for our lack of progress against poverty and our growing inequality is a dramatic change in American family life. Almost 30 percent of children now live in single-parent families, up from 12 percent in 1968. Since poverty rates in single-parent households are roughly five times as high as in two-parent households, this shift has helped keep the poverty rate up... Among women under age 30, more than half of all births now occur outside marriage...
In addition, we have seen a growing tendency among well-educated men and women to marry each other, exacerbating income disparities. If we add to these family changes the fact that wages for low-skilled workers have stagnated or declined in recent decades, we can explain most of the increase in poverty and much of the increase in the income gap as well.
4. If we want to increase opportunities for children, we should give their families more income.
Of course money is a factor in upward mobility, but it isn't the only one; it may not even be the most important. Our research shows that if you want to avoid poverty and join the middle class in the United States, you need to complete high school (at a minimum), work full time and marry before you have children. If you do all three, your chances of being poor fall from 12 percent to 2 percent, and your chances of joining the middle class or above rise from 56 to 74 percent. ...
Many American families need supplements to their incomes in the form of food stamps, affordable housing and welfare payments. But such aid should not be given unconditionally. First, the public is concerned that unconditional assistance will end up supporting those who are not trying to help themselves. Second, new research ... has shown that individuals frequently behave in ways that undermine their long-term welfare and can benefit from a government nudge in the right direction.
And third, policies with strings attached have had considerable success. ...[S]ocial policies will be more successful if they encourage people to do things that bring longer-term success.
5. We can fund new programs to boost opportunity by cutting waste and abuse in the federal budget.
Can we cut enough ineffective programs or impose enough new taxes to put better teachers in classrooms, expand child-care assistance for working families and provide more financial aid to disadvantaged students while reducing projected deficits? The answer is a resounding no. ... Just three rapidly growing programs - Medicare, Social Security and Medicaid - along with interest on the debt threaten to crowd out all other spending in a few decades.
So we also need to revise the contract between the generations in a way that gradually reallocates resources from the more affluent elderly to struggling younger families and their children. Such a shift would not only help create more opportunity, it would improve the productivity of the next generation, making its members better able to contribute to the costs of retirement - including their own.

The idea that the poverty problem would be much smaller if people would get married seems to me to avoid the important question of what factors are driving the change in the marriage trend. To the extent that these factors are economic and hence that poverty is also a cause of the falling marriage rate (if it is), then it's more complicated than suggested above.

Also, with respect to the last sentence, retirement funds -- Social Security funding -- is not the long-run budget problem we should be worried about, this can be handled relatively easily with a few minor changes. It's health care costs that are the problem. The argument that we should help people in poverty so that they can help pay for Social Security is far down the list of reasons I'd put forth for helping.

Update: See Mathew Yglesias on single parents and poverty.



Don't know how to use the three sea shells?


"I still want to know how to use the three seashells" - room mate and everyone who sees this stupid scene.

Let me spell it out for you, so that you, too, can be smarter than Slyvester Stallone playing a caveman.  (So easy a Sly Caveman can do it)

The Japanese and other countries have three buttons on their toilet instead of toilet paper.  It's likely that this movie simply decorates the buttons as seashells (like how some toilet paper holders or flushers are ornate).  The three buttons are:

1.  Bidet - a jet of water shoots at your ass
2.  Blow Dry - a jet of air dries your ass
3.  Flush - this one is easy

Now since he didn't say he had trouble flushing, maybe they changed the third and made it perfume or something.

There.  The three sea shells.  Now stop asking.

Larfleeze is on Peyote

I can't be the only one noticing that the symbol for the Orange Lantern aka Agent Orange aka Larfleeze bears a striking resemblance (in stick figure form) to the famous "Gonzo fist", a symbol for Hunter S Thompson and the entire Gonzo journalism movement.  The two thumbed fist is gripping a peyote button, the bud of a cactus plant that has hallucinogenic properties.  While I'm not going as far as to say that Larfleeze is on peyote, it's worth noting that Gonzo journalism is participating and giving up neutrality in the subject.  Larfleeze literally makes his entire Orange Lantern Corp out of himself, participating in everything and taking a self-absorbed stand on every issue.




Left: Orange Lantern symbol
Right: Gonzo Journalism symbol

Felt like I should stop ignoring this just because I switched to Chrome.