It used to be that alarms went off only in my head, and that was bad enough.
“Did I turn off the iron?”
“Oh no, I forgot to put out the garbage.”
And listening to those alarms go off in my head would have caused me to have something like a panic attack. Maybe two on a scale of one to ten. But nevertheless, those alarms kept me from sleepwalking through life.
But now days, there is an alarm going off every five minutes or so and most of them aren't in my head.
I was making a list of the things that beep, buzz, whistle, bong, sing, or ring at you and me. There are cell phones, Ipods, all kinds of proprietary machinery, washers, dryers, irons, toasters, ovens, alarm clocks, cars, computers, printers, GPS devices, timers, cameras, cash registers, gas pumps, fish finders… Many of those devices issue a variety of sounds in succession, in rhythm or in a pattern. Some of them play music and some of them blink at you too.
Every beep has a different message for you. “Almost empty, my battery is dying, you pushed the wrong button, add toner, cycle done, you've got mail, don't burn the cookies, don't burn the house down, out of focus, out of oil, use the flash, and on and on.
The trouble is I don't speak Droid very well. In fact I am usually looking around for a Droid interpreter. If I get myself in a room with a bunch of Droid-speaking devices and they all start beeping at once, there will be trouble. What happens is that when multiple alarms go off and I can't take care of all of them at once, the stresses start to add up and soon I am in a ten-out-of-ten condition. I start to suffer from deep beep overload which I demonstrate by two-stepping jerkily from one device to another while I try to understand which is saying what and how urgent the various messages are.
Sitting down to take a deep breath doesn't help much either. What is that other squeak-squeek” sound I hear? I can't tell where it is coming from. Wait, that's my desk chair creaking.
Driving out on the road presents a possibility of running into beep overload as well. Try interpreting and processing in a split second more than one beeping sound while driving through the turnabout.
“Eeeek! (You will notice that I have begun to utter droid-like sounds, but that doesn't mean I am fluent.) Should I answer the cell phone, study the dashboard, or get out of that Volkswagen's way?”
Perhaps some people could do all three, but not I. First I would have to find my cell phone which goes to show you what beep overload can do to me.
One of the most unhappy devices ever to speak Droid is the desktop computer. Some days it will issue complaining noises at a rate of every twenty keystrokes. What ensues is a condition closely related to beep overload in some ways.
However, this condition is characterized by an outburst of actual, spoken, English words—words words like -bleep-bleep-bleep-.
Monday, October 25, 2010
Just some of the hazards
I hate to have to tell you this, but living is hazardous to your health. The National Safety Council published findings showing that most accidents occur at home, at work or at play. If you think about it, that doesn't leave a whole lot of safe time or space left over.
I can think of church. You are probably safe from auto accidents, skiing fatalities, and drownings in church, although you could get thoroughly wet at a baptism. I think I heard once, though, of someone who died of a heart attack in church.
One prevailing notion holds that if you are accident prone or feeling like you are overdue, you should stay in bed; but as one of my favorite fictional characters said when his wife tried to put him to bed to get over pneumonia, “I ain't thet big a fool… Ain't you ever noticed? Folks die in bed.”
So I can't recommend bed or church without reservation.
You don't want to be caught in an automobile, bus, airplane, or storm with or without a seat belt. You want to stay away from smoking sections in restaurants—if they have those anymore—especially if they serve food.
And don't be poor. Poverty is associated with increased risk of fire death. Stay away from football games; there were three football fatalities in 2009.
Just in case you were wondering what it is about skiing that is dangerous, I will tell you that is is “excess speed and loss of control, especially if they are complicated by contact with stationary objects such as trees, or rocks, or lift towers.”
You have the NSC to thank for such documented factual knowledge.
Well, back to our dilemma. Where or when is it safe? As for when, it's not August. Don't be around in August. September is better.
Show up then. Where? Not at a rock concert, not at a water attraction, not at an educational institution. (Good luck with the educational institution part unless you are well over eighteen.) And don't frequent banks; bank robbers tend to do the same thing.
Stay away from hospitals and senior citizens' centers. They are too much like staying in bed. Don't be caught in the proximity of washing machines, ironing boards, electricity or bears. And sweaters, you could accidentally hang yourself with your sweater.
Those are just some of the common everyday things. You also have to be aware of the exotic hazards like chemical wastes, nondisposable substances, dirt and germs. There used to be a concern about acid rain. Perhaps rain is more alkaline, lately—I haven't heard—but that can't be good either. Anyway, those things tend to jump on you or fall on you.
It is just my personal opinion, but I think that treadmills and haunted houses are also dangerous.
And now, don't let any of those things cause undue stress; that's also dangerous.
You may as well just relax and enjoy life. Another statistic I once heard: you have a one hundred percent chance that something will get you sooner or later.
I can think of church. You are probably safe from auto accidents, skiing fatalities, and drownings in church, although you could get thoroughly wet at a baptism. I think I heard once, though, of someone who died of a heart attack in church.
One prevailing notion holds that if you are accident prone or feeling like you are overdue, you should stay in bed; but as one of my favorite fictional characters said when his wife tried to put him to bed to get over pneumonia, “I ain't thet big a fool… Ain't you ever noticed? Folks die in bed.”
So I can't recommend bed or church without reservation.
You don't want to be caught in an automobile, bus, airplane, or storm with or without a seat belt. You want to stay away from smoking sections in restaurants—if they have those anymore—especially if they serve food.
And don't be poor. Poverty is associated with increased risk of fire death. Stay away from football games; there were three football fatalities in 2009.
Just in case you were wondering what it is about skiing that is dangerous, I will tell you that is is “excess speed and loss of control, especially if they are complicated by contact with stationary objects such as trees, or rocks, or lift towers.”
You have the NSC to thank for such documented factual knowledge.
Well, back to our dilemma. Where or when is it safe? As for when, it's not August. Don't be around in August. September is better.
Show up then. Where? Not at a rock concert, not at a water attraction, not at an educational institution. (Good luck with the educational institution part unless you are well over eighteen.) And don't frequent banks; bank robbers tend to do the same thing.
Stay away from hospitals and senior citizens' centers. They are too much like staying in bed. Don't be caught in the proximity of washing machines, ironing boards, electricity or bears. And sweaters, you could accidentally hang yourself with your sweater.
Those are just some of the common everyday things. You also have to be aware of the exotic hazards like chemical wastes, nondisposable substances, dirt and germs. There used to be a concern about acid rain. Perhaps rain is more alkaline, lately—I haven't heard—but that can't be good either. Anyway, those things tend to jump on you or fall on you.
It is just my personal opinion, but I think that treadmills and haunted houses are also dangerous.
And now, don't let any of those things cause undue stress; that's also dangerous.
You may as well just relax and enjoy life. Another statistic I once heard: you have a one hundred percent chance that something will get you sooner or later.
Creative Taxes
Creative tax plans are ingenious
Our government has been getting pretty creative lately with finding new ways to impose taxes —only they don't call them that. (I did an article a few weeks ago pointing out that whether you call a cat a “cat” or a “feline,” it is still the same animal. It meows and eats cat food. It has baby cats and may or may not catch mice. But changing the name does not change the nature of the animal.)
So any method of collecting money from you or me and transferring it to a government entity is probably a tax. Whether it is called something else like “cap-and-trade” or a “medical device surcharge,” by my definition, it is a tax. So when congress passes a law which costs money but is going to be paid for from “other revenues,” you might smell a rat—not a cat—a rat.
And this may look like an article complaining about taxes, but it's not. It's an article complaining about tribute monies. By the way, you may have heard that people who complain about taxes can be divided into two classes: men and women.
The tax czar has my respect. There are some innovative plans being talked about, and those backdoor plans have to be tricky.
For instance, someone developed this idea and called it healthcare reform: Congress will tax health care to subsidize people to buy health care that new taxes and regulation will make more expensive. Whoever dreamed up that plan certainly has my admiration. I don't like it, but it is creative. I could think for a year and not come up with that.
My grandkids think I am creative. They think I can make anything. Well I ran into a brick wall when I tried to think of some tax programs that could equal that one in ingenuity. I tried not to disappoint my fans though.
By using the same logic, I came up with the short list of my own. (There never was a long list.) I assume that what happens in Vernal stays in Vernal and will not end up on the tax czar's list of Possibles. He doesn't need encouragement.
1. Impose a crop tax on sagebrush growers to help pay for zerascape projects.
2. Increase the use fees at national parks to pay for visit-your-national-parks advertising campaigns.
3. Collect a consumption tax on milk to pay for the cost of methane gas reduction research.
4. Tax cosmetic surgeries to help pay for Congressional health care insurance.
5. Collect revenues from pet owners to help pay for homeless animal shelters.
6. Tax automobile manufacturers to fund the down payments for new car buyers. Wait. Someone already thought of that.
Okay, I don't have what it takes. I wish I could say that that is because everything has already been thought of, but I expect to see innovations in the kinds and quantities of tribute monies increase at roughly the same rate as the national debt.
The problem is that I don't dream up tax schemes for a living. I just spend my living on tax schemes.
Our government has been getting pretty creative lately with finding new ways to impose taxes —only they don't call them that. (I did an article a few weeks ago pointing out that whether you call a cat a “cat” or a “feline,” it is still the same animal. It meows and eats cat food. It has baby cats and may or may not catch mice. But changing the name does not change the nature of the animal.)
So any method of collecting money from you or me and transferring it to a government entity is probably a tax. Whether it is called something else like “cap-and-trade” or a “medical device surcharge,” by my definition, it is a tax. So when congress passes a law which costs money but is going to be paid for from “other revenues,” you might smell a rat—not a cat—a rat.
And this may look like an article complaining about taxes, but it's not. It's an article complaining about tribute monies. By the way, you may have heard that people who complain about taxes can be divided into two classes: men and women.
The tax czar has my respect. There are some innovative plans being talked about, and those backdoor plans have to be tricky.
For instance, someone developed this idea and called it healthcare reform: Congress will tax health care to subsidize people to buy health care that new taxes and regulation will make more expensive. Whoever dreamed up that plan certainly has my admiration. I don't like it, but it is creative. I could think for a year and not come up with that.
My grandkids think I am creative. They think I can make anything. Well I ran into a brick wall when I tried to think of some tax programs that could equal that one in ingenuity. I tried not to disappoint my fans though.
By using the same logic, I came up with the short list of my own. (There never was a long list.) I assume that what happens in Vernal stays in Vernal and will not end up on the tax czar's list of Possibles. He doesn't need encouragement.
1. Impose a crop tax on sagebrush growers to help pay for zerascape projects.
2. Increase the use fees at national parks to pay for visit-your-national-parks advertising campaigns.
3. Collect a consumption tax on milk to pay for the cost of methane gas reduction research.
4. Tax cosmetic surgeries to help pay for Congressional health care insurance.
5. Collect revenues from pet owners to help pay for homeless animal shelters.
6. Tax automobile manufacturers to fund the down payments for new car buyers. Wait. Someone already thought of that.
Okay, I don't have what it takes. I wish I could say that that is because everything has already been thought of, but I expect to see innovations in the kinds and quantities of tribute monies increase at roughly the same rate as the national debt.
The problem is that I don't dream up tax schemes for a living. I just spend my living on tax schemes.
Monday, July 12, 2010
A view of Bertha's logic
Premise number One: Hello! Old people take medicine. Just walk up and down the medications aisle in the grocery store. Just read Part D on a Medicare application.
Just watch an old-people show like Lawrence Welk on television and check out the commercials. No, you don't have to watch the whole show. You can click away from the commercials too if you want to, but just check me out. They advertise Boneva, and Centrum (sounds like “century”) and Celebrex on those shows for a reason which is: old people take medicine.
Premise number Two: Old people can't see. Just hang out at the optometrist's like I do, Just watch the old people shows like I do when I finally get my glasses adjusted. They advertise eye surgeries, eyedrops, and eyeglasses. Yes, the models for eyeglasses are all under the age of ten, but don't worry, they are just faking blindness. They also advertise Centrum for Eyes on those shows.
For some reason those advertisers actually think that their audience can see the commercials. Wait, that is why they also blast the sound on the same commercials—to make sure they can be heard if not seen. (For kids it is “seen and not heard.” For old people it is the other way around.)
Premise number Three: Old ladies cook. The generation of people to the left of center on a pedigree chart does not cook. They occasionally make cake from a box, and soup from a can. That is because their eyes are good enough that they can read the instructions. If it were as much trouble for them to read the labels as it is for old people, they wouldn't do it at all.
Conclusion: Don't you worry, those big companies know their markets well enough to sell their products. Notice that the company designer logo is plenty big enough for anyone to read. But once they get you to buy the medicine or the container of food, they are done with you. When it comes to figuring out how to use your Boneva or your cake mix, you are on your own because the industry standards for labels requires the use of microscopic type.
There must be some directive coming from the Consumer Protection Agency that reads like this: “Whenever designing labels that include instructions for use, drug facts, product ingredients, or nutrition information, do not waste container space by using a typeface that is larger than five points. The average consumer is comfortable with a font of that size or smaller, and lightface is sufficient.”
Okay, if they are selling Legos, or X-box games, maybe. Old people don't use those products anyway unless their grandkids force them to, in which case the kids have to be in the same room to show them how or they couldn't make them anyway.
Once one of my grandkids tried to make me play X-box. (He was in the same room.) Maybe it was War Games. I couldn't even maneuver my guy onto the battlefield. I ended up somewhere in a DMZ where there were high cliffs from which I fell and killed myself all by myself.
But if I walk into the kitchen with the intent of cooking something that requires me to read the instructions on the back of the product, all the grandkids will be gone. They have no desire to help me read the back of a bottle of aspirin either. They think that if I am careless enough to get sick that I will just have to take my medicine.
Well, I have news for the kids. It takes more brains to make cake when you can't read the recipe than it does to play X-box when you can see the controller buttons.
And I have advice for those who market medications and foods that have to be prepared. Discrimination against old people is punishable by law isn't it? I might have read that somewhere, but then the type was awfully small.
Just watch an old-people show like Lawrence Welk on television and check out the commercials. No, you don't have to watch the whole show. You can click away from the commercials too if you want to, but just check me out. They advertise Boneva, and Centrum (sounds like “century”) and Celebrex on those shows for a reason which is: old people take medicine.
Premise number Two: Old people can't see. Just hang out at the optometrist's like I do, Just watch the old people shows like I do when I finally get my glasses adjusted. They advertise eye surgeries, eyedrops, and eyeglasses. Yes, the models for eyeglasses are all under the age of ten, but don't worry, they are just faking blindness. They also advertise Centrum for Eyes on those shows.
For some reason those advertisers actually think that their audience can see the commercials. Wait, that is why they also blast the sound on the same commercials—to make sure they can be heard if not seen. (For kids it is “seen and not heard.” For old people it is the other way around.)
Premise number Three: Old ladies cook. The generation of people to the left of center on a pedigree chart does not cook. They occasionally make cake from a box, and soup from a can. That is because their eyes are good enough that they can read the instructions. If it were as much trouble for them to read the labels as it is for old people, they wouldn't do it at all.
Conclusion: Don't you worry, those big companies know their markets well enough to sell their products. Notice that the company designer logo is plenty big enough for anyone to read. But once they get you to buy the medicine or the container of food, they are done with you. When it comes to figuring out how to use your Boneva or your cake mix, you are on your own because the industry standards for labels requires the use of microscopic type.
There must be some directive coming from the Consumer Protection Agency that reads like this: “Whenever designing labels that include instructions for use, drug facts, product ingredients, or nutrition information, do not waste container space by using a typeface that is larger than five points. The average consumer is comfortable with a font of that size or smaller, and lightface is sufficient.”
Okay, if they are selling Legos, or X-box games, maybe. Old people don't use those products anyway unless their grandkids force them to, in which case the kids have to be in the same room to show them how or they couldn't make them anyway.
Once one of my grandkids tried to make me play X-box. (He was in the same room.) Maybe it was War Games. I couldn't even maneuver my guy onto the battlefield. I ended up somewhere in a DMZ where there were high cliffs from which I fell and killed myself all by myself.
But if I walk into the kitchen with the intent of cooking something that requires me to read the instructions on the back of the product, all the grandkids will be gone. They have no desire to help me read the back of a bottle of aspirin either. They think that if I am careless enough to get sick that I will just have to take my medicine.
Well, I have news for the kids. It takes more brains to make cake when you can't read the recipe than it does to play X-box when you can see the controller buttons.
And I have advice for those who market medications and foods that have to be prepared. Discrimination against old people is punishable by law isn't it? I might have read that somewhere, but then the type was awfully small.
It was a grand Fourth of July
How often does the Fourth of July come on a Sunday? Every six years? You may have noticed that the fact that the Fourth was in the middle of the holiday weekend made it possible for a body to celebrate it more than once.
First let me say that at least half of my family members think that Independence Day is the best holiday of the year. They love fireworks, fly-bys, and parades. They love barbecues, car shows and warm weather. And they love this country, so they were happy to celebrate all they could. Imagine that.
This year, the celebrations were all over the weekend. Some towns and cities had their fireworks on Friday, some on Saturday and some on Sunday. It was the same with parades and rodeos and all the rest of it.
By traveling between a couple of different cities and a few other destinations, one of our family members saw fireworks twice, took in a couple of barbecues and a roast beef dinner, golfed, shopped, went fishing, saw a car show, and caught a couple of parades. He wasn't quite fast enough to see the fly-by more than once though.
We all had some good times—some laughs, some proud moments, lots of oohs and aahs, good food, tired kids and family fun.
The city where I spent my weekend doesn't have a traditional parade. Instead they have a huge car show; and after it is over, the cars line up and they all cruise up and down Main Street for as long as they want to. They rev their engines, squeal their tires, honk their horns, and show off their cars in the sense of doing a lot more than just parking them at the fairgrounds.
Everyone else lines the streets and cheers and waves and picks their favorites. (What is more American than a Chevy or a Ford?)
Some of the vehicles are still “peeling out” on the city streets two days later. On Monday afternoon, we were visiting and enjoying the weather outside in the backyard when someone who was still celebrating the car show staged a five-second “burn-out” on the street out front. Even after two days of hearing rumbling engines and screeching tires, we all looked toward the street.
We couldn't see the car from where we were standing, but I pictured a red Pontiac GTX with yellow flames and wide mag wheels. Immediately after the screeching stopped, my ten-year-old grandson came flying around the corner of the house on his foot-powered scooter announcing loudly, “That wasn't me.”
On a more serious note, I have been reading some commentary about the genius of the Declaration of Independence and the incomparable foresight of the men who wrote it, as well as the courage of those who adopted it and signed it. The Constitution of the United States rests in the same category. There has probably been nothing to compare with it in all of history.
What I have concluded is that it was no accident that that many great minds were gathered together in one place and in one time—men of great mental capacity who also had the will, the ability, the tenacity and the courage to craft such a framework for governing a people.
And it doesn't seem as if there has been such a concentration of great minds anywhere in the world since, at least not in government. In some arenas there is just no point in trying to reinvent the wheel. The best legislators are probably those who are smart enough to realize “that wasn't me” and then get over it.
First let me say that at least half of my family members think that Independence Day is the best holiday of the year. They love fireworks, fly-bys, and parades. They love barbecues, car shows and warm weather. And they love this country, so they were happy to celebrate all they could. Imagine that.
This year, the celebrations were all over the weekend. Some towns and cities had their fireworks on Friday, some on Saturday and some on Sunday. It was the same with parades and rodeos and all the rest of it.
By traveling between a couple of different cities and a few other destinations, one of our family members saw fireworks twice, took in a couple of barbecues and a roast beef dinner, golfed, shopped, went fishing, saw a car show, and caught a couple of parades. He wasn't quite fast enough to see the fly-by more than once though.
We all had some good times—some laughs, some proud moments, lots of oohs and aahs, good food, tired kids and family fun.
The city where I spent my weekend doesn't have a traditional parade. Instead they have a huge car show; and after it is over, the cars line up and they all cruise up and down Main Street for as long as they want to. They rev their engines, squeal their tires, honk their horns, and show off their cars in the sense of doing a lot more than just parking them at the fairgrounds.
Everyone else lines the streets and cheers and waves and picks their favorites. (What is more American than a Chevy or a Ford?)
Some of the vehicles are still “peeling out” on the city streets two days later. On Monday afternoon, we were visiting and enjoying the weather outside in the backyard when someone who was still celebrating the car show staged a five-second “burn-out” on the street out front. Even after two days of hearing rumbling engines and screeching tires, we all looked toward the street.
We couldn't see the car from where we were standing, but I pictured a red Pontiac GTX with yellow flames and wide mag wheels. Immediately after the screeching stopped, my ten-year-old grandson came flying around the corner of the house on his foot-powered scooter announcing loudly, “That wasn't me.”
On a more serious note, I have been reading some commentary about the genius of the Declaration of Independence and the incomparable foresight of the men who wrote it, as well as the courage of those who adopted it and signed it. The Constitution of the United States rests in the same category. There has probably been nothing to compare with it in all of history.
What I have concluded is that it was no accident that that many great minds were gathered together in one place and in one time—men of great mental capacity who also had the will, the ability, the tenacity and the courage to craft such a framework for governing a people.
And it doesn't seem as if there has been such a concentration of great minds anywhere in the world since, at least not in government. In some arenas there is just no point in trying to reinvent the wheel. The best legislators are probably those who are smart enough to realize “that wasn't me” and then get over it.
The Basin mosquito surge
Luckily I am one of those people who is usually left unbitten by mosquitoes, so I may be out of line in asking; but there seems to be an over-abundance of them this year, doesn't there?
I have heard an inordinate number of complaints about them, seen an increase of puffy red welts on arms, legs and faces, and noticed that the repellent shelf in the drug store was nearly empty. I know, Sherlock Holmes and all that.
Being receptionist at the mosquito abatement office this week has probably been a challenge. You know we expect to have all of our problems solved and solved quickly in this day and age. Not only that, we expect a government agency to solve them too.
However, I don't know too many people who have a real solution for controlling those pesky (gross understatement) insects. I can't think of any overstatements since mosquitoes are at the top of the dangerous-animal chart and seeing as how they cause, (or is it spread?) deadly diseases. Deadly as in dead.
It's like plugging the hole in the Gulf. No one knows how to do it, and for sure things have been tried.
Repellent isn't much of a solution. Wearing extra clothing doesn't help much if a mosquito really wants to bite you. Citronella candles, Skin So Soft, and eating bananas just makes them more determined. As for mosquito netting, I have never seen any to buy, but I wouldn't want to show up at a barbecue wearing it.
There are instructions for a mosquito trap on line, but I am sure that for every one you trap there are fifty more waiting to take its place. It's not like they have staked out their own backyards and once you clear that area you are safe. They just fly around in a random pattern (nonspecific searching behavior) until they find someone to bite.
There are breakthroughs on the mosquito front though, Apparently what it is that makes the mosquito abort the random pattern and hone in on a certain target is the presence of that much-maligned, of late, carbon dioxide gas.
The carbon dioxide that is exhaled during the normal life processes of a human being and the animals is what attracts the female mosquito who is looking for a shot of blood which will develop the eggs she is getting ready to lay. The males are benign and only eat nectar and plant juices.
The mosquito isn't fussy about which kind of blood she gets. Animal blood is as good as human blood, but a lot of animals are protected by a coat of hair which is too dense for the mosquito's “stinger” to penetrate. Most humans aren't that well protected.
Mr. B. is one of those people who is especially attractive to mosquitoes. He does have a lot of hair on his arms, enough to protect them even though they are usually exposed at this time of year. The hair doesn't extend to his elbows or his knuckles though, which explains the red, raised, dot-matrix pattern on those two parts of his anatomy. He's learning to cover up better though.
People in other areas of the country complain about their mosquitoes, asserting that they are getting bigger and louder every year. Mr. B. complains that this year's mosquitoes are smaller and that he can't hear them coming. That may have something to do with his advancing age, but I might have noticed the same thing.
I have heard an inordinate number of complaints about them, seen an increase of puffy red welts on arms, legs and faces, and noticed that the repellent shelf in the drug store was nearly empty. I know, Sherlock Holmes and all that.
Being receptionist at the mosquito abatement office this week has probably been a challenge. You know we expect to have all of our problems solved and solved quickly in this day and age. Not only that, we expect a government agency to solve them too.
However, I don't know too many people who have a real solution for controlling those pesky (gross understatement) insects. I can't think of any overstatements since mosquitoes are at the top of the dangerous-animal chart and seeing as how they cause, (or is it spread?) deadly diseases. Deadly as in dead.
It's like plugging the hole in the Gulf. No one knows how to do it, and for sure things have been tried.
Repellent isn't much of a solution. Wearing extra clothing doesn't help much if a mosquito really wants to bite you. Citronella candles, Skin So Soft, and eating bananas just makes them more determined. As for mosquito netting, I have never seen any to buy, but I wouldn't want to show up at a barbecue wearing it.
There are instructions for a mosquito trap on line, but I am sure that for every one you trap there are fifty more waiting to take its place. It's not like they have staked out their own backyards and once you clear that area you are safe. They just fly around in a random pattern (nonspecific searching behavior) until they find someone to bite.
There are breakthroughs on the mosquito front though, Apparently what it is that makes the mosquito abort the random pattern and hone in on a certain target is the presence of that much-maligned, of late, carbon dioxide gas.
The carbon dioxide that is exhaled during the normal life processes of a human being and the animals is what attracts the female mosquito who is looking for a shot of blood which will develop the eggs she is getting ready to lay. The males are benign and only eat nectar and plant juices.
The mosquito isn't fussy about which kind of blood she gets. Animal blood is as good as human blood, but a lot of animals are protected by a coat of hair which is too dense for the mosquito's “stinger” to penetrate. Most humans aren't that well protected.
Mr. B. is one of those people who is especially attractive to mosquitoes. He does have a lot of hair on his arms, enough to protect them even though they are usually exposed at this time of year. The hair doesn't extend to his elbows or his knuckles though, which explains the red, raised, dot-matrix pattern on those two parts of his anatomy. He's learning to cover up better though.
People in other areas of the country complain about their mosquitoes, asserting that they are getting bigger and louder every year. Mr. B. complains that this year's mosquitoes are smaller and that he can't hear them coming. That may have something to do with his advancing age, but I might have noticed the same thing.
Birthdays—everybody has one
Perhaps I have already written on the subject that I am going to write about. I'm not sure. If I have and can't remember, I can be fairly sure that you can't either.
There are only so many things that I am qualified or unqualified to write about anyway. Maybe this is one of them.
One of life's greatest mysteries to me, right up there with how do bumblebees fly and where are all the lost socks, is this: why do we make so much fuss over birthdays?
First of all, the individual had nothing to do with getting a birthday. He didn't earn it, buy it, rent it, or study for it. He does nothing and he gets a party. He can't even remember the day he got it. Perhaps it all started with the parents having a party to celebrate a birth. Now they did something to earn a party. Maybe it was so much fun that they kept it up and pretty soon the honor transferred to the birthdayee.
Secondly, everybody has a birthday. We don't usually celebrate or take note of something so common as to be had by everyone. It's like having a foot. Do we celebrate having a foot? No everybody has one or two.
“Ha,” you say, “look at Joe. He lost his foot in the war.” Okay, Joe is different. He doesn't have a foot. Even then he doesn't call for a party—never mind that he most definitely did earn it.
But where's the distinction in having a birthday?
A retirement party I can understand. You worked for 35 years to earn it.
I can live with a housewarming party. You spent megabucks on that celebration.
A funeral I can handle. You probably got gray hair and wrinkles producing relatives to attend it.
A graduation party you suffered and studied hard for.
But you do nothing and you get a birthday party. And people bring presents. Sometimes they sing to you or put your picture in the newspaper.
Find me a guy who doesn't have a birthday, and I will throw him a party. I will send gifts. I will invite the neighbors.
Well, wait a minute. I just happened to remember that some people are shorted in the birthday department. Like my son, for instance. He is like Joe. Well, he has a foot, but he only has a birthday every four years. Now that is a distinction.
I think we may have thrown him a party every year that he didn't have a birthday. On the leap years we might have had a little celebration too. As for the future, we'll see about next leap year when it gets here.
In the meantime, anybody who wants to forget my birthday is perfectly welcome. I keep trying to forget it myself.
There are only so many things that I am qualified or unqualified to write about anyway. Maybe this is one of them.
One of life's greatest mysteries to me, right up there with how do bumblebees fly and where are all the lost socks, is this: why do we make so much fuss over birthdays?
First of all, the individual had nothing to do with getting a birthday. He didn't earn it, buy it, rent it, or study for it. He does nothing and he gets a party. He can't even remember the day he got it. Perhaps it all started with the parents having a party to celebrate a birth. Now they did something to earn a party. Maybe it was so much fun that they kept it up and pretty soon the honor transferred to the birthdayee.
Secondly, everybody has a birthday. We don't usually celebrate or take note of something so common as to be had by everyone. It's like having a foot. Do we celebrate having a foot? No everybody has one or two.
“Ha,” you say, “look at Joe. He lost his foot in the war.” Okay, Joe is different. He doesn't have a foot. Even then he doesn't call for a party—never mind that he most definitely did earn it.
But where's the distinction in having a birthday?
A retirement party I can understand. You worked for 35 years to earn it.
I can live with a housewarming party. You spent megabucks on that celebration.
A funeral I can handle. You probably got gray hair and wrinkles producing relatives to attend it.
A graduation party you suffered and studied hard for.
But you do nothing and you get a birthday party. And people bring presents. Sometimes they sing to you or put your picture in the newspaper.
Find me a guy who doesn't have a birthday, and I will throw him a party. I will send gifts. I will invite the neighbors.
Well, wait a minute. I just happened to remember that some people are shorted in the birthday department. Like my son, for instance. He is like Joe. Well, he has a foot, but he only has a birthday every four years. Now that is a distinction.
I think we may have thrown him a party every year that he didn't have a birthday. On the leap years we might have had a little celebration too. As for the future, we'll see about next leap year when it gets here.
In the meantime, anybody who wants to forget my birthday is perfectly welcome. I keep trying to forget it myself.
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