So I’m sitting outside a cafe on University Avenue in no-longer very tony Palo Alto and this woman walks by… you know the type… what some would describe as a long cool drink of water.

Her long, straight blonde hair swings in rhythm against her tanned arms, bare in her sleeveless linen shirt. Her slim figure is perfectly clad in a pair of thin, pale yellow linen slacks, and I watch her walk by, hating her perfection…watching her walk away and thinking “what cheek (no pun intended) to be so obviously wearing no underwear with that flimsy linen”…

And then I see it.

Oh, she has underwear on alright.

Her slim, retreating “look at my ass swaying I’m-not-wearing-any-underwear” illusion is shattered as your eyes trace inward from the zenith of each unrestrained cheek jiggling beneath the surface of the linen, only to be brought up sharp by the appearance of a thick black line going up the crack of her focal point, terminating at the thick black elastic waist band of her….

Thong.

What, I ask. Is the point?

Isn’t the point of a thong to be not observable?

Apparently not.

Oops. I wiped out the comments function.

Thanks for letting me know.

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Here are links to the posts that I know you are dying to comment on:

Would You Eat a Chicken’s Ring?

The #1 Killer of that Childlike Sense of Wonder: Photoshop

Visually Impaired? Read This!

The Human Brain is an Amazing Thing – Get Some!

How About I Charge You for My Time?

Do You Know About Bone Models?

Sorry about that. What can I say? I’m a dolt.

You know what the #1 killer of that childlike sense of wonder and amazement is?

No, it’s not seeing the zipper in the back of the Easter bunny costume (which is how I first figured out that there was a human inside that big cuddly bunny). And no, it’s not learning elementary science and where things really come from. It’s not even seeing Santa sneaking a nip from his hip flask as he rings the bell on the street corner.

No.

It’s Photoshop.

I’m serious.

I cannot tell you the number of times in the past few months that our child has seen some really cool picture – of something truly amazing – perhaps staged, perhaps not – and rather than being awed at the wonder of it all, he has said “it was probably Photoshopped.”

And you know, I realize that I respond that way to beautiful and amazing pictures now, too.

We saw a series of beautiful pictures hanging in our local REI – the moon over Half Dome, a bear in a stream, a wolf way up close. And you know what my first thought was? Well, my first thought was actually “Wow!”, but that sense of wonder was immediately killed by “Yeah, they were probably Photoshopped.”

Perhaps real Professional Photographers ™ who Want to be Taken Seriously should start providing a disclaimer in their photo information: “actual unretouched photo, not Photoshopped.”

In fact, let’s take that a step further. Maybe photos which have been altered in Photoshop should carry a label disclosing that fact.

Because otherwise, isn’t it really just a lie?

Ok, now, I think that it’s great that we have braille up everywhere, like at ATMs (ever notice how many people write it as “ATM machines”? Obviously they work for the Department of Redundancy Department), and on restroom signs (where hey, that heightened sense of smell ought to be enough to tell you whether you are about to enter the ladies or the gents), but… I am struck every time that I run into one of these, in regular size, unbolded, completely unremarkable font, just below a captcha (you know, those things which give you a unique string of letters to “enter here” before you are allowed to post something or email someone, to prove that you are not a spammer):

“Visually impaired? Click here”

I dunno… it just seems to me that if they have navigated the Internet generally, and your page specifically, enough to read things like this from your page:

“Du*****@*******nk.net has chosen to use our asinine challenge response system, with which we choose to waste your valuable time. Please complete the short challenge form below by filling out the captcha, which we realize sounds like gangsta talk, as well it should, mutha sucka. If du*****@*******nk.net chooses to allow email from your address, the message(s) that have been intercepted will be delivered immediately, and any future message(s) will be delivered without delay.”

… if they can read that, then it stands to reason that they will also be able to read your captcha (unless it’s one of those ones that looks like it was designed by a funhouse mirror manufacturer). And if they can’t read your captcha, they sure as hell aren’t going to be able to read your “visually impaired? Click here.”

Humour impaired? Don’t read this.

The human brain is an amazing thing. Terry Wallis of Mountain View, Arkansas, recently recovered from a brain injury which he suffered nearly 20 years before!

By this I mean that Terry Wallis was “barely conscious” for nearly 20 years, and then suddenly started moving and talking again. After nearly 20 years.

Medical experts say that this is because “his brain spontaneously rewired itself by growing tiny new nerve connections to replace the ones” that were “sheared apart” during the car accident which lead to his brain injury. For 20 years!

It’s pretty amazing.

But they also said some things which I found pretty dumb.

For example, they talk about “Wallis’ sudden recovery”.

I’d say that 20 years is hardly sudden. That his body is repairing itself is amazing. That it kept plugging away at it for 20 years is even more amazing. But it’s not sudden.

For all that we think that we know so much about the body, we really know so little. And here in the West we know even less, because our minds are not open to the mysteries of the body’s innate energies and abilities to heal itself, with some assistance.

That’s one reason that our surgery (particularly ‘elective’) rate is so high. And don’t even get me started about our skyhigh c-section rate.

Anyways, it’s an amazing story. You can read more about Terry Wallis here.

Do you know about bone models? I only just learned about them yesterday.

No, they aren’t models of bones in the body (any body). And no, I don’t mean Kate Moss and Calista Flockhart.

Bone models are models – often of ships – which were carved by prisoners of war during, primarily, the revolutionary wars, out of the bones which came in their meals. We hope.

You see, often the people who signed on or were conscripted into the navies during those times were, by trade, skilled craftsmen. Who then spent ages as prisoners of war.

We learned about them yesterday from a docent at a model ship exhibit. When I got back, I researched them a bit, and sure enough!

Here is what the Royal Naval Museum in Portsmouth England has to say about bone models:

“Many of the prisoners were craftsmen and whiled their time away by carving models of ships, chessmen and other articles out of beef bones and used bedding straw to braid work-boxes and dinner mats. Many of the articles were fine pieces of work. These were offered for sale to sympathetic visitors and, from the money they obtained in this way, could supplement the hard prison life.”

And the United States Naval Academy, which boasts the largest collection of bone models in the world, explains that “The crafting of this type of model was characteristic of the period of the Anglo-French wars (1756-1815), and most of these works were produced during the Napoleonic conflicts. While not built to scale, these miniature vessels are every bit as thorough in their workmanship as their wooden counterparts. The Naval Academy’s bone model collection ranks as one of the largest in the world. The exhibit is a poignant, fascinating tribute to the skill of prisoners who were kept in deplorable conditions for years on end.”

I never knew, did you?

Here’s an example:

And the Dover Museum has a rather interesting bone model ship here.

There, I hope that you learned something today.

Can I really be the only person whose first thought upon seeing the CNN newsflash that “Ken Lay was found dead of an apparent heart attack” was that the “apparent” sure was suspicious? That the statement by the Lay family spokesperson was unbelievably terse and unforthcoming?

That maybe he committed suicide?

C’mon, the guy was awaiting sentencing on 10 felony charges. The odds of him not doing prison time were infinitesimal.

And just days before, the Feds had just asked the judge to require Lay to disgorge more than $40million that they said he received as a result of the crimes of which he was convicted.

At age 64, he was unlikely to ever leave prison once there. And he’d have to give all that money back.

Now he has avoided prison, and the money can go to his wife and family (when a defendant who pleaded not guilty dies before sentencing, the conviction is often wiped out because the defendant did not have an opportunity to appeal).

I’m just sayin’.