Keep Your Hand off My Axe!

For the fine celebration of Halloween, I attended a party hosted by a popular hotel in San Diego.  I was garbed as an executioner, complete with hooded robe, bloodied headsman axe, noose, and other adornments.  I was informed I had to surrender my toy axe to gain entrance. 

I protested, and asked why.

“It’s a weapon” said the gentleman.

Now, this “weapon” was a cheap, hollow plastic axe that could barely bruise someone, and would frankly break should I tried to actually hurt someone with it.  Seeing that arguing reason with the man was futile (I am certain he was just following orders), I gave him the axe for storage, until I left.

Quite naturally, they didn’t bother to take the noose I clearly had draped over my shoulders, which, by the way, was fully functional.  I could have hung or strangled someone, had I been inclined.

Well, the costume just wasn’t the same without the prop axe. 

On the way out, I retrieved my axe, and noticed another person having their “weapons” taken; a pair of small, transparent, pink squirt guns from someone dressed as a cowboy.

I just doesn’t make sense…

More Reading, Less Assuming...

I live in San Diego County, near the coast.  The particular neighborhood is fairly affluent – mostly homes, but some apartments here and there.  I went to the closest laundry– there aren’t many in this area, given that most of the area is homes, not apartments – to wash some blankets and other bulky items on Sunday.   You’ll find a mix of people in the laundry – white, Asian, and of Hispanic background, the latter group being the most common.

An older caucasion fellow came in and set up next to a group, apparently a family, which was clearly of Central or South American descent.   He asked them, “Do you speak English?”

 It was an honest enough of a question, and inoffensively stated, but the manner in which it was toned and delivered gave me the distinct impression he thought it likely they did not speak English.  They indicated that they did, with mild, curious smiles on their faces, as if to say “of course.”  He began asking questions about how the washers work – how many coins, where the detergent goes, where the bleach goes, when to add it, what does the “operating” light mean, and such. 

 I found it very amusing, since I hardly consider washers complex, and furthermore, the instructions are clearly printed on the washers – in English, mind you.  I was going to ask the gentleman, “Do you read English?” but decided to focus on my folding.

Of course, it didn’t end there.   This instance of intellectual laziness would soon be promoted from minor to major with a fine twist of irony.

After receiving the advice, and while piling his laundry in, he mentioned to the group helping him that about 30 years ago, he owned several laundries.  

I’m not making this up, folks.  I didn’t know washing machine technology changed so much since the 1980’s that you were forced to resort to getting help from persons who you suspected didn’t even speak English…

Religion, Cars, Mom, Will...etc.

I had received a call from my mother earlier in the month – and after the usual salutations and such, a question was posed to me:

“What is an...agnostic?”

After giving my mother a more-or-less dictionary accurate description, I discovered the reason for the query: she found my Facebook page, and noticed such was stated for me under “religion.” How or why she was looking up my Facebook page is a mystery for another time.

Surprisingly, my mother did not go into preaching mode (being I was raised a regular, church-going Catholic), but instead told me about her recent car incident, in which a blown rear tire caused her car to spin out of control on a highway causing the vehicle to briefly assume a rotational speed approximately that of an astronomical body known as a neutron star. The car “miraculously” come to a stop at the side of the road, and all of this without striking anything. The conclusion, of course, is that supernatural intervention was involved – not the usual physics, nor the reflexes of the humans along the roadway.

Obviously, the story wasn't convincing to me. If divine intervention was involved, couldn't it have been less dramatic, such as not causing the car to spin out in the first place? You get my drift.

Anyway, back to the main point of the story: My mother has found out that I rejected religion, yet in that very phone call, I am informed that my brother (highly educated, church-going, married to a fine woman, three kids) is out of the will due to some trivial reasons, yet I'm still in it (the agnostic, woman-chasing, hard drinking, unmarried So Cal playboy). Maybe that's the only reason I didn't catch “hell.”

Well, so much for religion...

Welcome to My Blog!

Welcome to this blog.

While this blog was created for a variety of reasons, the main driver is personal; something of a therapeutic outlet, maybe my way to contribute to the world beyond my normal reach. 

Mind! You will not likely read anything revolutionary here, nor-thought shattering, nor entirely inventive; I leave that to those more talented than I.  But I will try my best to be thoughtful toward issues, not dwell on partial-truths, and not play partisan games with regard to issues that may be political in nature.

I will occasionally be irrelevant.  I will occasionally come off as highly opinionated.

I intend to discuss issues I find important, whether such are national, global, or local to my area (southern California); things regarding science and nature; things regarding the human condition, in general.  Finally, I’ll likely discuss some of my own experiences in this part of the multiverse.

Thanks for stopping by, and say hello!