Rhetorical Questions, Just for Fun

I was listening to the radio, enjoying myself relaxing when they host began listing “fun things to think about.” My relaxation was destroyed as I found myself screaming back at the radio about how stupid these fun facts were. I have heard all of them before, and they always get me really pissed off. I would like to lay them to rest right here and now.

If the “black box” is nearly indestructible and always survives the plane crash why don’t they build the whole plane out of the black box?

Well first there is the probably easy answer. The black box is probably just 5 inch thick steel, or some crazy super strong alloy. It would either be too expensive to make a plane out of it, or too heavy for the plane to fly efficiently. Secondly, just because the black box is “indestructible” doesn’t mean that soft human bodies would survive if it dropped from 38,000 feet. Just because a fucking electronic recorder can make it out alive doesn’t mean 200 passengers will. The black box isn’t some kind of mystery that defies all laws. Falling from the sky is falling from the sky no matter what color box you are in. Don’t ever ask this question again.

Why don’t psychics ever win the lottery?

This one is less serious because I assume we all know the answer. Because they are fake and can’t actually know the future. However this got me thinking … Every psychic in the WORLD should constantly be trying to win the lottery because the one day one of them does… Well, he will be the most successful psychic in the world. Think about it! He just won himself the lottery! If I won the lottery I would probably start a psychic network just to capitalize.

If 4-5pm is the slowest time to drive, why do they call it rush hour?

Man this one really pissed me off. Here is why: because that is when everyone is “rushing” to get home from work!? You get it? They are RUSHING home, but because EVERYONE is rushing they slow traffic down. What is there to get?

Why do kamikaze pilots where helmets?

“Derrrrrrrrr I mean they are JUST going to suicide anyway why would they protect their head?” Well I don’t know … maybe they don’t know for a fact it’s going to be suicide? Maybe because they don’t want to get killed BEFORE suiciding? Or maybe it’s because the helmet is full of equipment and audio devices? Or maybe it’s just tradition and habit? Probably lots of reasons.

Why do they sterilize lethal injection needles?

How do you know they do? I bet probably they get a new needle from a package every time. I don’t know for sure, but either do you, and either does the fucking asshole that posed this question in the first place.

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Tom: Bartender God

I used to be like you. I used to be a regular guy. Sometimes I would go to bars and enjoy a drink. I have seen, and talked to my fair share of bartenders. Some men, some women, some good some bad, but never really thought much of it: they are just people making a living. One Friday night at a Green Mill in Roseville, everything changed for me when I saw Tom behind the bar.

As soon as he took my order, his voice distinctly proud and confident, I knew he was something special. I watched.

No. I admired him work for the rest of the night. I was not disappointed.

The bar gradually started filling up. I watched as all the empty seats around me were taken up by people of various sorts: some happy and celebrating, some depressed and convalescing. Tom took all of their orders promptly and delivered their beverages quickly without fail. But it wasn’t just that. Doing that is just part of being a good bartender. With Tom it was different. There was something special about his style. His arms moved so fast around the bar, sometimes I could hardly see them. I would blink once and he had already put away one bottle and opened another. Tom’s footsteps were firm and accurate: never a stumble, never a fumble. His facial expression didn’t change; he held he same handsome smile the entire time I watched him.

Occasionally, he would converse with a customer and have a chuckle over some joke he had obviously heard a hundred times before. I watched Tom grab four highballs and fill them with ice. Enamored by how skillfully he wielded the ice scoop, I almost failed to notice the ice in the glasses. Each glass was filled to exactly the same level with ice. I bet if one took the time to count the number of cubes in each glass, all four would have the same amount.

Tom then grabbed three full liquor bottles in one hand. He lifted all three up like they were empty and began to pour drinks. The finger and hand strength amazed me. Tom must be able to crush anyone’s hand if he gave a truly “firm” handshake. That is, if he ever needed to. After all the drinks were expertly poured, Tom deftly stuck a lemon wedge on the rim of one of the glasses. I spent a millisecond to think about what drink that might be, when I noticed there was now a lemon wedge on all four glasses. He grabbed four cherries, then four sword-shaped toothpicks. He impaled all four cherries directly through the center with the sword-picks, a feat unto itself, then impaled each cherry-sword combo through a lemon wedge.

The bar was booming. People couldn’t even walk past one another. Everyone needed service, everyone needed their bills. Any other bartender at any other bar would say, “Forget the cherries, it’s too busy for the cherries tonight.” Not Tom. It’s never too busy for cherries when Tom is behind the bar. As a matter of fact, it is never “busy.” Tom has transcended neophyte ideas like “slow” and “busy.” Tom understands bartending on a higher level. The bar only has two states: a state of order, and a state of disorder. It is Tom’s job to bring the bar to order.

There is no stress, no panic, just the belief and confidence that he is “The Bartender” and it is his destiny. Tom elevates bartending from an occupation to an art form. Tom is a true master of his craft with a superior understanding of theories mere mortals couldn’t possibly comprehend. Tom is a bartender God.

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Spellcheck Dilemma

My computer thinks the word cunt is a typo. This is one of those rare cases in which I know my computer is wrong and I am right. Cunt is indeed a word.

I right clicked on the word and clicked on the “learn spelling” command. SUDDENLY I froze! My fingers firmly holding the mouse button down. The “Learn” button light up blue just waiting for me to let it go and commit the command. Just then, like my life flashing before my eyes (but in reverse), I saw my future. There might come a time when I intend to type the word count, or cut, or maybe even cute and somehow end up typing cunt. If my computer does not underline this word as a typo, and if this document happens to be important, or somehow sensitive, the trouble this typo will cause me will probably be worse than the trouble of knowing cunt is spelled correctly, even though it is underlined in red. And so, I took the pointer off the “learn spelling” button. Now my computer thinks I have spelled the same word wrong five times, and I am willing to live with that.

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“Shoot for the Moon … “

Nitpicking? Absolutely.

“Shoot for the moon and if you miss you will still be among the stars.” -Les Brown

I hate this quote. I think it’s stupid, tacky and 100% cliche. It’s just a wordy way to say always try your best. The problem with this quote is the totally absurd premise that if you miss the moon, then you will be among the stars. This is a very loose interpretation of the word “among.” If indeed you get shot from Earth in order to reach the moon and miss, you will be floating in space. If you are “in” space and so are the stars, then I guess you are among the stars right away. As a matter of fact, we are all among the stars as I write this, and as you read it.

Obviously this explanation of among the stars isn’t what Les Brown was going for. He is trying to infer that if you miss the moon you will reach “the stars” because you have shot yourself so hard with your will power. Well the closest star is Proxima Centauri and it’s 4.2 light years away. So you might be “among” Proxima in about 1 million years. But then you are only among a single star. It’s not possible to be among multiple stars because they are so far apart from one another. Stupid.

Secondly I am having a hard time following the analogy of the moon and the stars. Shooting for the moon is like choosing a goal and going after it. This I understand. For example, I want to get myself a really nice house or a nice career. That is my moon, and I am shooting for it. Now I am lost, I don’t understand what the stars are supposed to represent.

Say I miss, I didn’t get the job, or the house. Now I am among the stars? What are the stars? Are the stars symbolic of the lessons I learned in my quest for the moon? Are the stars my new friends and connections? Are the stars a symbol of the the warm fuzzy feeling I get for shooting so high and failing or missing? It would be hard to believe that the stars are actually my shitty 1-room apartment and my min-wage job that I ended up with after MISSING my original goal the moon.

Maybe I am missing the point altogether. In which case this quote is PURE GENIUS. Maybe what it’s saying is, when we are setting our original goals we should aim for the moon. But because at that time we are so short sighted and inexperienced we are unable to understand that there are stars beyond the moon. If we try as hard as we can to reach the moon and miss, only than can we see all the other opportunities. If that is the case, then this quote makes some sense. But it isn’t. It sucks.

Anyone who uses this “inspirational quote” seriously, is automatically on my shit list.

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Self-Plagiarism

I remember an event in my young life, in middle school, we had to make some kind of art project relating to the Oregon trail. Well back in elementary school for an art project the whole class made a little rocking chair made out of clothes pins. It was perfect I thought. A perfect hand made miniature rocking chair, the kind an old-time carpenter would make for the setters of the time. So I handed that in and got an A.

The teacher thought I did a great job, until some pompous cunt decided to tattle on me and tell the teacher that I made that in an art class two or three years ago. The teacher confronted me about it, and I didn’t lie, I said yes I made it some years ago. However I was never graded on it, and after all I DID make it. Although I vaguely understood that I had broken a rule and did feel somewhat guilty about it, I had some doubt and some questions. Was this really wrong?

I don’t know why I have been thinking about it today, but I keep adjusting the scenario a little bit to see exactly where it becomes “wrong” to hand in your own work. Here are some scenarios.

Scenario 1: I made the chair in art class three years ago, took it home, and turned it in as an art project at a later time. (What actually happened.) This is against the rules, and can be considered academic dishonesty. Pretty serious crime.

Scenario 2: I made the chair in art class three years ago. I lost it, but remembered how to make it. I remade the same chair for the Oregon Trail project. Now this is interesting. As a matter of fact I could have simply lied and adopted this story and no one would know any better. I made the chair, absorbed the skills, and remade the same chair but for a new project. I am not sure what would have happened if I took this stance but thinking about it, it seems totally legitimate. The idea remains the same, but the labor was put in just like everyone else.

Scenario 3: I read how to make the chair in some book, and simply made the chair. Obviously this is fine, and this is what the teacher would like me to do.

It seems like so much grey area. What is it exactly that we are being graded on in this case? The creative process? The time, labor and attention to detail? I think this whole paradigm should be changed and students should be allowed to plagiarize their own work anytime they want. I think it will drive students to create work of a much higher quality and encourage students to keep detailed bibliographies and source lists of all the work they have ever done because it WILL come in handy. Imagine how nice it would be if you put 15 hours into a paper, but you knew it would probably work for you at least two or three times? Not to mention these papers would go through years of refining, which would bring the quality up.

I don’t know I haven’t made up my mind about this. Just some food for thought.

 

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