site meter follies followed by ramblings

Answer: In this order, ABC News, the FBI, an NPR piece, Wikipedia, Jihad Watch, the Saudi Embassy, me.

Question: What is google’s top seven for “wanted terrorist from yemen”? Returned with july 2005 archive.

Yeah, that’s me, terrorist-hunting superhero. Even more fun, following me is Fox News, CNN, and the NYT. I also come in 20th! I wonder if I could sell my page rankings … CNN can use all the help it can get.

The internet is such a dangerous place to get information.

Seems our sitemeter follies a couple two tree posts below missed one cc: on Poindexter’s e: Talisman Energy, Calgary. Dat boy dun shard are storey un stoopud tings! If’n I had a momma I’d bea telling ‘er! Dang!

Answer: In this order, Food Timeline, What’s Cooking America, Motts, me.

Question: What is Google’s top four for the history of applesauce? Return with stupid clowns with a side of applesauce.

I am the authority on the history of applesauce immediately following Motts? You guys are in trouble!

Answer: I didn’t want to sound offensive, so I googled insensitive penis.

Question: What do I do with this limp dick with which I live?

Good advice inspired by one of my hero’s in this life.


Answer: That right there is my e.a.merkel double barrel rabbit ear shotgun.

Question: What the fuck is a rabbit ear shotgun?

This sounds dangerous, and I think the person who googled such a thing is probably way too into weaponry.

Answer: It removes the need to discuss jock itch sweat and detergents.

Question: What are bunched panties?

I understand googling “jock itch and detergent.” The little buddies can be sensitive sometimes, particularly in the summer months. The addition of “sweat” throws me. I fail to see the nexus to detergent. Sweat is a function of aeration, heat, and exertion. The detergent I use doesn’t make me sweat. I might get hives. I can see that. Sweat? Um, no.

I’m working on a theory here. If I ridicule enough people that visit my site, maybe I can achieve singularity. That point of infinite density the other side of which is completely unknown to science. Is it a worm hole to another part of me? Do I burst forward into something later catalogued as Big Bang Clyde, and through this dispersion of my matter form little galaxies that float around me like a herd of mosquitoes? Am I expanding or contracting? If you look at me with a really powerful telescope, will you see me when I was younger?

What will be my last thought as I lay dying? I suspect something about what I was going to do next like the laundry, or something I wanted to do like rinse my dinner plate. I think the profound thoughts will come in the hours before, provided I am not so cranked up on morphine that I am just watching the walls melt. Will I be alone? I think I will have a dog, so I better use big bowls in case I am not found for a few days.

My Great Aunt Nana was afraid of hospitals and she died in one. That always bothered me. My second cousin Craig lived a year after his fatal diagnosis and no one told me. That continues to piss me off.

My father told my brother and me that if his “dick sill worked” he “would have divorced your mother a long time ago.” I was saddened that he didn’t live until Viagra came on the market or that the whole poker tournament thing came after his death. He was an excellent card player. The last time I saw him alive was at a card game we both played in. I remember finally figuring out his game that night. I guess it was time.

I am getting ready to enter the next phase of my life. I think it will be my last. Will it last 30 years or more?

I just got T.Rex’s Dandy in the Underworld. Marc Bolan and the band were on tour when it came out on March 11, 1977. Six months later he was dead at age 30. I don’t understand why people die so young. He had an exceptionally good time while he was here, but don’t we all?

My skin gets dry in the winter. I started to use this soap I put on a scrungee thing. Seems to be helping. But I reach around to itch my lower back, and I feel hair there. Makes me wonder if I have hair on my ass. I am afraid to look. I am not going to itch there except through clothes to ensure that I gather no information. It is just something I don’t want to know.

Does everyone write poetry at some time in their life?

I lot of us have some perpetual fuck-up we know that makes our life look not so bad. Do those perpetual fuck-ups have someone they know even more fucked up? Is there no bottom to the pit?

I love old pennies. Wouldn’t it be cool to know precisely every story associated with a particular coin from its first use to the present? I pick up every penny I find. I save them. Remind me of my twin.

Time to transit …

double the dosage cut the time in half; repeat 4 times

I was watching ESPN and they were showing this guy catching a ball and running and then getting hit, and then another guy was trying to run and somebody hit him. Then they showed yet another guy trying to catch a ball and he missed it. Then some really big guy was dancing. And then two guys were yelling at each other. And then a whole lot of guys were dancing like the grass was a nightclub. Then some guy was crying as he talked. It was all really weird. I think I took too many of my pills. I’m feeling tired. I’m gonna lay down for a while. Bye.

Hi! I’m in the hospital now. I got some tube in my arm and this woman with “LSW” after her name is asking me why I did it, was I feeling ok, was anything bothering me, could she get me some juice, did I feel like visitors. I asked her to change the channel to ESPN and leave. I can’t find my socks.

Do you like pierogi? If you’re anywhere near Whiting, Indiana, in late July, you have to go to the Pierogi Fest. Yep, doesn’t get any better than a pierogi eating contest and polka party. I like mine fried with onions and enough salt to stroke out a busload of campers.

If you think the fun stops at the eating contest, don’t forget the pierogi toss, where you get to throw a “buttery ball of dough.” Sounds like fun. And then there is “Eastern Bloc Jeopardy.” Really? I’ll take Women with Feedbags for $200, Alex.

A: The women of this Eastern Bloc country have thighs whose circumference exceeds the average hat size of men in that same country.
Q: What is Poland?

Heart Attack on a Plate for $300.

A: This food product’s main ingredient is lard.
Q: What is Breakfast in Krakow?

Do I have to? For $200

A: This Eastern Bloc tradition precedes a child’s confirmation.
Q: What is Breakfast in Krakow?

Gotta love pierogi and all the tradition surrounding it.

I’m kinda upset that I can’t find my socks. Getting angry. Why am I signing all these papers? I think I better go.

i be a doctor!

One thing I love about the internet is that you can be anybody you want to be. I don’t mean like the 58 year-old perverts that pretend to be teenagers “just looking for someone to talk to, that might like me for who I am” (ironic, eh?) For those guys, I laugh my ass off when they show up in Denny’s parking lot with a case of Viagra and case of condoms, big jar of body lotion, rope, and video equipment, get busted, and say, “I was just showing up to tell her how dangerous it is to meet people on the internet.” “Tell her”? More like, “Show her,” eh Perv? I know a lot of guys in prison – mean guys – piss-your-pants-when-they-walk-in-the-bar-and-glance-your-way guys. All Perv gets there is, “You better lather up bobo good in your mouth, so it rams more easily into your ass.” Ah, poor baby!

So anyway, I got all these sites that somehow or another – for the life of me I don’t know how or why think I am a doctor! I mean, go figure, eh? Me? A doctor? I went to law school. Don’t need no job where I have to put my finger in someone’s ass. I’d rather clean out their wallet without touching their privates, thank you very much.

One site that thinks I am a doc is eMedicine.com. Every once in a while I get these case studies e’d to me. They call them … wait for it … “eMedicine Case Studies.” Now there’s a large dose of marketing angle all bundled up into a catchy name.

So this latest one is called, “A Toddler With Fever and Abdominal Tenderness.” I get pics and facts, and have to guess what the problem is. I get a hint, too! A hint? WTF? Doctors get hints? Can you imagine me in my law office, “Sounds like you have a big issue here. You may have a case. Can you give me a hint as to what kind?” Must be nice to work in a profession with hints …

So we get three pics, X-Rays it seems to me, an untrained-yet-apparently-licensed doctor. Let’s look at the first one.


Ah, we have the word, “Upright” and the letter, “R” on it. Must be clues. Tucked away on the upper-right side (you may need to click the pic to see it larger), it reads, “Abdomen with Upright.” Hmmm … abdomen with upright. “Upright” must be a thing. Like, “Abdomen with Dog.” What’s an “upright”? Maybe it’s a tool of some kind, a doctor tool. This is interesting! What’s this?!? Below the tool name it reads, “8/31/2005.” This X-Ray is old! How can I do my job with old information? No wonder MedMal rates are so high. They use information that is over two years old to diagnose something in my in-box today! I am appalled! I might resign from the Medical Board! Send a nasty letter to the Chief Whatever They Call Him or Her at the hospital. It is to laugh. Fine. You know what? I will persevere in the face of adversity – in the face of incompetency – and solve this case. Let’s look closer at that X-Ray thingey.

Seems kinda hollow up top. That’s weird. Might be a problem. Better write that down. “Patient presents hollow top as she/he holds Upright tool.” Making progress.

The kid seems all kinda milky white in the lower half. Marked difference from the hollow top. “Patient presents half-full lactose container in lower half as he holds Upright tool.” I like being a doctor! I’m like really good at it.

Now, in the milky stuff (I’ll try to keep the technical jargon to a minimum. You’re welcome.) there seems to be holes, and then something pointing at them. See it? Left to right. Holes. What could the holes be? Think outside the box, Dr. Clyde. Think, think, think. Maybe they are not holes at all! Ah ha! Maybe they are not holes at all! Maybe, now follow me here, maybe they are the opposite of holes! Like something Stephen Hawking would say about something in space: Maybe the holes are actually the substance! They are like balls and that pointy thing is a cue stick! I GOT IT! The kid is a problem masturbator and he’s playing pocket pool!

Ta da! Case solved. I am soooo good at this doctor thing.

Wait. Can’t rush into a diagnosis. Let’s count the horizontal thingeys that look like spare ribs. Well, I see … ok … one minute. OK, well, the kid could still be playing 9-ball, but if he’s that into pocket pool his dick is pretty high up there. Whoa, Nellie, this boy must be hung like a horse!

We need more data. Let’s go to the 2d pic.


Looks like the milk spilt. Just can’t get good techs these days. Amazing. There’s that pool stick again. Look at those things standing up at the bottom, running the full length of the X-Ray. “Patient presents sticky things,” no wait, “stick-like th—“ snap Damn! Pencil broke. One sec. OK. “Patient presents a series of apparent hard substrate thingeys that resemble rowing boat oars along the entire length of X-Ray. NOTE TO STAFF: Be sure the spilt milk is cleaned up. It’ll stick to somebody’s ass in a day or two and that is all I need is to stick my finger into a sticky ass.”

What else can we learn? Well, if you turn it 90 degrees CCW, it looks like a clown with a stick in his eye. “Note to self, get milk and bread on the way home.”

OK, that’s all here. Last pic coming up.


What the hell is that? Looks like something you’d see in war room of a 3d world country as it is planning an invasion of the neighboring country’s rice paddies. Must be misfiled. Let’s move onto the facts they give us.

“BACKGROUND” (That’s a good way to start. Maybe this will explain how we got the rice paddy picture in with our medical files.)

A 14-month-old boy is brought to the emergency department (ED) (ED? Erectile Dysfunction? You see, they’re thinking a “pocket pool” diagnosis, too) by his parents for an evaluation of persistent fever, vomiting, and diarrhea that has lasted for 3 days. (The kid’s barely a year old, ralphing for three days, and now you bring him in? Where’s Social Services? Do that hall? 3d door on right? Thank you.) The mother states that the child was examined by his pediatrician 2 days before (likely story. CYA. lying bitch.) this presentation for a “viral illness“; however, the child has appeared increasingly ill since then(I’m sure he has, ma’am. Let’s take a look. Oh, I think those folks with the clip boards and hemorrhoids want to talk with you.). He has become irritable, and he has been minimally active and feeding poorly. He has had a normal stool output and appearance, as well as normal urination frequency. The parents deny (deny, deny, deny, white trash) observing a runny nose or any coughing, wheezing, or stridor in the patient. The child lives at home with his parents, he is not in day care, and he has had no contact with people who are sick. (More like, “No contact with the outside world so we can watch him puke for three days.)

On physical examination, the boy is crying, fussy, and poorly consoled (that’s because he doesn’t have the speech skills to say, “get me the fuck out of that house! They’re crazy). His vital signs include a rectal temperature of 101°F (38.33°C) (you see, docs are all “rectal” this and “rectal” that – no thank you), a respiratory rate of 32 breaths/min, a blood pressure of 98/56 mm Hg, and a heart rate of 168 bpm. His oxygen saturation is 100% while he is breathing room air (as opposed to the closet air he breathes when Jim-Bob and Thelma-Lou go bowling?). The patient’s weight is 22 lb (10 kg). Palpation reveals diffuse abdominal tenderness without rigidity or guarding. The patient has diffusely hypoactive bowel sounds (I’m telling you, that ain’t no bowels – it’s a pool table). His stool is negative for occult blood. The rest of the physical findings are otherwise unremarkable (except for the fact that his 14-month old dick is longer than his left leg).

Conventional abdominal radiography and computed tomography (CT) scanning are performed (see Images (yeah, thanks, did it. including the misfiled one.)). The laboratory investigation reveals the following results: white blood cell (WBC) count, 19.4 × 109/L, with a predominance of neutrophils; hemoglobin, 8.4 g/dL; hematocrit, 26.6%; platelets, 310 × 109/L; sodium, 136 mmol/L; potassium, 3.8 mmol/L; chlorine, 105 mmol/L; CO2, 20 mmol/L; blood urea nitrogen (BUN), 6 mmol/L; creatinine, 17.7 µmol/L (0.2 mg/dL); and glucose, 4.1 mmol/L (73 mg/dL). The urinalysis shows trace ketones, but the results are otherwise normal. (I learned a long time ago that if Word underlines something in red, it means that it isn’t important. About half this paragraph is underlined – so just ignore it.)

What is the diagnosis? (Problem masturbator with abnormally large dick.)

“HINT” (Here we go. The cheating profession.)
The patient’s symptoms developed approximately 2 days after the mother dropped a box of pins on the carpet at home. (Social Services!!!)

A “hint”? You call that a “hint”? Why not give a map to the treasure with a big red X on it, a geo-thing-a-ma-bob that tells you where you want to go, and a fist full of McDonald’s coupons?

“ANSWER” (Well, this oughta be incredibly reduncant. See “hint.”)
Appendiceal perforation by a foreign body (a pin) (oh!): A foreign body was easily apparent on conventional abdominal radiographs in the right lower quadrant (it’s a pocket-pool cue stick, thank you very much). CT scanning (I didn’t see no CT Scan. They hiding information?) of the abdomen and pelvis revealed a radiopaque pin and a multiloculated fluid collection at the level of the L5 vertebra. The prominent bowel loops superior to the pin likely represented focal ileus. (Those last two sentences are all underlined in red by Word – meaningless.)

Ingestion of foreign bodies is relatively common among pediatric patients, who account for approximately 80% of cases. Most objects pass spontaneously; only 1% of all foreign body ingestions require surgical intervention. Among adults, foreign body ingestions most frequently occur in patients with psychiatric disease or in those with a potential secondary gain. (That’s a good story.)

Management of cases of foreign body ingestion depends on the type of object ingested. (Duh!) The objects most commonly ingested are coins, buttons, parts of small toys, pins and thumbtacks, and disk-shaped batteries. For known ingestion of nontoxic, smooth, or small objects, management is conservative because approximately 80-90% of these foreign bodies spontaneously pass though the GI tract without causing harm.

Initial radiographic localization and serial abdominal radiography should be performed every 24-48 hours (and people wonder why insurance rates are so high – Swallowing a pin: $2.00 a dozen. Two X-Rays: $795.00. Taking a picture of my shit as it flows through my system every one to two days: Priceless!) to monitor the progression of the object until it is passed in stool. Foreign bodies may lodge at any site in the GI tract, but most often they lodge at anatomic sphincters (sounds like something that would invade Earth), sites of previous surgery, or areas of narrowing or acute angulation, where they tend to cause obstruction or perforation. The esophagus has several sites of potential obstruction (yadda, yadda, yadda – does this ever end?), and perforation at these sites is a particular concern because the rates of related morbidity and mortality are high. The complications of foreign bodies in the esophagus include mediastinitis, lung abscess, pneumothorax, and pericarditis. (red, red, red) Approximately 90% of foreign bodies that reach the stomach pass through the remaining GI tract. Most smooth objects pass within the normal bowel transit time.

(OMG, Shut up already!) Because of the high risk of intestinal perforation, urgent intervention is indicated for all patients who have ingested a long, thin, sharp, or stiff foreign body that fails to progress through (oh wait, I can shut them up! I forgot.) …

So what did they do for the problem masturbator?

A laparotomy, drainage and excision of an intra-abdominal abscess, as well as an appendectomy and removal of the foreign body, were performed. The appendix was 4.3 cm, and a metallic pin was found piercing the bowel wall. The histology revealed acute serositis with fibrinopurulent exudates in the lumen and on the serosal surface of the appendix.


YOW! They took out the boy’s gizzard! Damn! And they got his Pocket-Pool Cue Stick, too! I always wondered what those things looked like. Neat.

safe and unsafe things to do in your home

I was strolling through the Gallery of Regrettable Food and found a gem: a 1959 recipe booklet from Knudsen Dairy Products.

Yummy! How fun to see what they were eating as I was experiencing my first months post-partum. Let’s turn the pages (I’ll put the pics here – but you can read the source’s commentary, too. He’s pretty funny).

The first item is, um, green, like a stagnant-pond green but without the promise of teeming life beneath. Oh my. It’s called, “Fruit Ring Mold with Dressing.” “Dressing”? Looks like ranch salad dressing. You put dressing on jell-o? OK, so the first one isn’t too appetiz---. Wait! What’s that underneath? Tell me isn’t a … oh, barf, it is! A Cottage Cheese Log. Gag reflex! I need some Tums to settle my stomach. brb.

Alright, look. One page. No problem. Can only go up from here.

AH, what do we have here! Looks like a salad. Um, “Chicken Curry Salad”! OK. I don’t eat meat, but that’s remotely digestible if you like dead farm animals. What’s that on the bottom? The orangy square thing .. well, jell-o mold, yes. Sign of the times. Let’s just accept that. What’s in it? Oh no. You must be kidding! Please, no. Please. “Corned Beef Salad Loaf.”


Production Step One: Take a cut of beef (usually brisket, but sometimes round or silverside) and cure or pickle it in a seasoned brine. The "corn" in "corned beef" refers to the "corn" or grains of coarse salts used to cure it.

Production Step Two: Make gelatin. The production of gelatin starts with the boiling of cattle bones or pig skins; contrary to popular perception, horns and hooves are not used. This material is then soaked with acid or alkali in large vats to extract and hydrolyse the protein collagen. The extract is then dried and ground to form a powder.

Cut the corned beef in tiny pieces, then suspend in a water, sugar, and gelatin mixture.

Garnish. Serve cold..

Bowels loosening. Need Kaopectate. brb. Let’s see … dosing, dosing, dosing. Ah, there it is! “Adults and children 12 years of age and older—The usual dose is 1200 to 1500 milligrams (mg) taken after each loose bowel movement. No more than 9000 mg should be taken in twenty-four hours.” What the hell is 1200 milligrams? Here. Two swigs.

Turn page.

“Creamed lobster.” Remove lobster from shell, diced, mix with cream cheese, return to shell, and broil. That’s a stretch. No intestinal reaction, so let’s move on before something kicks in. Page!

What the hell is that thing with the green olives? Chicken and sour cream. Oh, that explains it. But wait. It seems the way this book is unfolding, that they expected the recipes here to mix with and sit on top of … the … cor-- … gurgle … the corned be-- … gloop! … that mold thing! {unmentionable}.

Excuse me. I need to go wipe myself. Where’s the Kao? Two more --- fuck it --- half a bottle! brb.

Lookey what’s on top! Why, it “Tomato Steaks in Sour Cream”! How about – “Lycopene Suspended in Heart Failure”? My word! Did you know that life expectancy for a white male born in 1930 (my dad) – the target audience for booklets like this – was almost 63 years, and that a white male born now is over 80 years? Don’t let them kid you – it has nothing to do with advances in medical diagnosis and treatment. It is 100% due to recipes like this one going the route of the USSR. In fact, this whole booklet feels like a communist plot. “Ve hav vays uf dealink vef ze Amerikans. Zay shal die by zer uwn hahns. Glutinouz fuls! Zest hav patienz, Comrade. Ze Knudsen Prozet zall suczede!”

Well, the good news is my anger at our Cold War foes has seemed to firm up my stool. That’s a good thing!

OK, I can’t risk anymore “recipes” (boy, is that term used loosely … ut oh! Bad word … brb. Kao! gulp, gulp, gulp!). I need something, um, firming, if you know what I mean.

Let’s see, hey! Here we go! It seems that adding Viagra to cut flowers makes them last twice as long!.


Each pill is 50 mg; all the flowers need is 1 mg. So very cool. There’s a real economic benefit here. Lots of places, like B&Bs, constantly replenish their cut flowers. New ones needed each week. The researchers found that flowers last two weeks instead of one. At $3.00 a pill – and 1/50th of that – that’s 6 cents to double the life of your cut flowers. Money in the bank.

It reminds me, I had a guy google ”what is safe household product to masturbate with”. I came in 20th. The guy was focused enough to go to the 2d page. Man. Here you go, you sick prick! Shave a corner off that little blue pill, mix in water, feed it to your cut flowers, take the rest yourself – and you have yourself a masturbation party! Get up close and rub some pollen on your face, you societal reject.

So, like, if you put all male flowers in the vase, do they become gay? If you have mixed gender, do they keep your guests awake and propagate overnight? If you get a closed bud and jerk it off, does the pollen shoot onto the wall? Ah, the telltale yellow stains on the B&B breakfast room wall. Be warned! If you see them, don’t ask – just check out. Worse yet, if you walk in and the proprietor has a jaundiced look, don’t even check in!

If we take it, and the Spanker doesn’t go half-mast within four hours, we’re supposed to seek medical attention. Do the male flowers, as they crank into their 2d week, get all, “hey WTF?!? We need a doctor here!” The little signs they made up so jovially and placed in front of the gay vase during the first few days that read, “Parking in Rear,” are now a mess of pollen that seems to read, “Help!”

Alright, colon stabilized. Quit while I am ahead.

Hi, my name is Clyde. I'm left-handed.

I always note how many left-handed people are in a group. I was training faculty yesterday in New England – seemed to be at least three out of 25. Could have been more, but that exceeds the 10% in the general population, particularly when you add me. Four out of 26 is 15%. (I’ve seen general population numbers claiming that we be up to 25%, but I have never encountered anything close to one in four – and I’ve been looking!)

The most obvious mark is choice of hand in writing. Something I use that seems highly reliable but not foolproof is placement of jewelry on wrists and fingers. You people put your watch on your left wrist; we reverse it, generally. T’aint much more annoying than writing with a watch on the same wrist – gets caught on everything and makes noise. The same logic extends to bracelets and rings.

I’m the only left-hander up and down my genetic pool for one generation – that’s three generations inclusive. I am told that one other person – maternal grandmother’s twin brother – was left-handed, but that is it for that generation on both sides. So four generations yielded two people. Pretty small harvest.

I should be on the Endangered Species List. I wonder if I can get a National Park Ranger to follow me around in bars and arrest people with whom I get into fights. I could be entry #1239 on the Endangered Species List (Animals). I’d be classified under “Vertebrate Animals: Mammals,” in this species list. I would be among such animals as the Chinese alligator, giant sable antelope, African wild ass, the Mexican grizzly bear, and the koala. Pop quiz: Why are all of these animals endangered? Because they taste good.

The Delta (CA) Smelt is on the list. I think I remember that on the menu when I lived in California. Guess it was pretty popular! It’s all in the preparation: hot pan, little EVOO and garlic, very light breading, squeeze a freshly cut lemon over them when you plate on a bed of arugula, and be sure to have a thinly sliced and warmed sourdough on the side.

Isn’t putting the Brazilian three-toed sloth on the list a contradiction? I thought all these bleeding hearts were God-less in the sense that Darwin knows better how all this evolution thing works and that ain’t nuttin been “created.” Let’s set aside the patent illogic of the position: Darwin wrote of evolution – one thing became another – which presupposed the existence of that “one thing.” Creationism says, “here is where that one thing came from.” The two positions have nothing to do with one another. Besides that, not a shred of evidence exists for macro-evolution – species to species, only micro – intra-species. Don’t get me started on irreducibly complex systems and Darwin’s own renunciation of his theory.

Where was I? Oh, yeah, the three-toed sloth is stupid and ugly. It deserves to become extinct. Just like the guy that zoomed past me yesterday at 95 MPH yesterday on Route 95 in NY in some car held together by duct tape. The whine of his engine made me think of a lawnmower about to go super nova – or a Viagra-induced pocket rocket cranking into its fifth hour. The only question in my mind was whether I would see the guy and the “car” a few miles down the road in a thousand pieces none bigger than a softball or something vaguely resembling an Uncle Buck pancake. Fortunately, I exited to the Tappen Zee Bridge; I dislike seeing survival of the fittest in action.

So the bleeders in this world create the Endangered Species List and mess with Darwin, yet we can’t pray before a football game – go figure.

Here’s a great fact: In 2007, researchers discovered LRRTM1, the first gene linked to increased odds of being left-handed. The researchers also claim that possessing this gene slightly raises the risk of psychotic mental illnesses. The principal researcher? Clyde Francks. A coincidence? There is no such thing as coincidences, just unknown connections.

Now, what the hell is this crack about “psychotic mental illness”? WTF do they think they are talking about? I get so fricking angry when people think they can much broad statements – because they are jealous, yeah, that’s right, JEALOUS - just because I can use my left hand like a standing-erect homo sapien! You people are pathetic. Condemning someone because of an immutable characteristic. It’s ok to be gay; it’s ok to be a heroin addict or an alcoholic; it’s even ok for Johnny to have his dick surgically removed so he can become Joan. But, hey, pick up a pen with your left hand and you’re labeled psychotic! F*CK YOU PEOPLE! A**HOLES!! YOU CAN KISS MY A**! HERE! JAMMIES DOWN, BENT OVER! KISS IT! NOW!!! PECKERHEAD! I HATE YOU, WITH A WELL-CONSIDERED DEEP LOATHING, I JUST HATE YOU. HERE’S MY LAWNMOWER, A ROLL OF DUCT TAPE, AND A MAP – GO FIND AN INTERSTATE! IF I'M PSYCHOTIC THEN I WANT A HANDICAP LICENSE PLATE SO I CAN ENTER AND EXIT QUICKLY AND YOU PEOPLE WON'T HAVE TO LOOK ME! WHERE'S THE PHONE BOOK? I WANT TO CALL MY CONGRESSMAN!

I have to take my meds. I’ll be right back.

Alright, better. It’s a pretty day outside, isn’t it? I love how flowers look in early fall. So soft and cuddly! I want to nap in them. I’ll get my stuffed mouse and blankey later, and use the flowers as my pillow and dream of clouds and the Moon and walking on the beach. Smile soooo big!!!!

So 92% of left-handers use their left hand to hold their toothbrush. I’ve hurt my left hand and had to use the other one – felt like someone was cramming something into my mouth with all the grace of a speed boat chewing up a three-toed sloth. Almost a third of us use scissors with the wrong hand – I am not included in that group of traitors. But a good point is made – society makes its tools for wrong-handed people: Scissors, watches, can openers, even the angle on spatulas. Here’s a good source for thoughtfully designed items. Do you realize tape measures are wrong-handed? Think about it. You designers are a bunch of pricks. I better double up on my meds. brb …

Smile.

I lifted this text from here: “Some researchers claim that we are more intelligent and eloquent that our right-handed counterparts. In tests conducted by Dr. Alan Searleman from St Lawrence University in New York, he found that left-handers can be considerably more intellectually gifted.

“There were more left-handed people with IQs over 140 than right-handed people – which is the ‘genius’ bracket. This is perhaps why there are more ‘lefties’ in creative professions – such as music, art and writing – and more left-handed astronauts and leaders than would be expected.”

More – on an absolute basis – lefties than wrongies with high IQs. Interesting. Let’s presume “more” is 6 out of 10. I found this reference to IQ frequency: 1% are 135 or over. “135” is close enough to “140.”

Assume a general population of 1,000 people: 100 are left; 900 are wrong; 10 are “genius.” (You following me? Able to keep up? Maybe there’s a left-hander around that could help you.)

If 60% of the 10 are left, that is 6 geniuses in the left-handed population; the wrong group is the remaining 4. (Still with me?)

6 out of 100 base left population are geniuses, or 6%. 4 out of the 900 base wrong population are geniuses, or 0.4%. So, we are 13.5X more likely to be … well, I hope even you can figure out the end to that sentence.

Kinda explains the crack about there being a “fine line” between genius and insanity, eh? I got no problem with that. Let me know if I need to explain to you. Who you labeling with that word “insanity”?

Some interesting people that were correct-handed: Napoleon, Julius Caesar, Alexander the Great, Joan of Arc, Aristotle, Nietzsche, Ramses II, Queen Victoria, Helen Keller, Thomas Jefferson, Winston Churchill, Euell Gibbons (the “many parts of the pine tree are edible” guy who died of a heart attack at age 64; guess there’s more cholesterol in trees than is generally reported), and me. Another list: Billy the Kid, John Dillinger, the Boston Strangler, and Jack the Ripper. My homies. Bad-ass boys just acting out. I bet if there were more thoughtful household-product designers through history, these guys would not have been angry. Think about it. All Jack ever wanted was to do was to pick up a surgical instrument that cut from right to left. Simple. But, noooo! Just can’t design it that way, can we? You people think we have forges to create our own stuff! You make me sick. I would just as soon ta … MEDIC!

Mmmm. Much better. I’ve never tripled up on my meds before. This could get interesting.

Did you see that? It was purple. Had yellow spots. It looked right at me and smiled. Does it know something? Why would it smile at me? Wait a sec … what? What did you say? No, I am not hungry right now, but thank you. Alright, I will. I guess a banana sounds good. Would you like one? Here you go. Oh, let me open it for you. I am sorry that I didn’t see your lack of arms. Yes, it is good. I am so glad you sugges …. Zzzz zzzz zzzz …

{Sniff}, {cough}, {hick-up}, {burp} Oh, hey, I’m back. Must have dozed off for a second. Where was I?

Remember the 10% of the general pop that is left-handed? It seems that 25% of the general pop that s-s-s-st-stut-ters is l-l-left h-ha-handed. I am included in that group. I used to stutter involuntarily a lot. I thought it began when I was five years old and got run over by a bus in Scranton – well, not run over, the clown hit me and I flew some distance. It was 1964 or 1965. He carried my unconscious body into my house, gave me to the biological fount, and left – “Sure am sorry, ma’am. Hope your boy is ok.” “B-b-b-bye, M-m-mr. B-b-b-bus D-dr-driver. T-t-th-thanks f-f-f-for h-h-it-ting m-m-me.” I use stuttering purposefully now when I speak in front of crowds; it tends to interrupt people’s wanderings – they refocus on me. I still stutter involuntarily, but only when my emotions are crushed and my lifeless heart is left for dead.

I shouldn’t overlook the basic stuff: a left-handed person has the right hemisphere of their brain control their intellectual processes; a wrong-handed person has the left hemisphere dominate.

The left hemisphere (yous guys) has a unique functional profile. Sequential Analysis: systematic, logical interpretation of information. Interpretation and production of symbolic information: language, mathematics, abstraction and reasoning. Memory stored in a language format.

The right hemisphere (us) has its functional profile. Holistic Functioning: processing multi-sensory input simultaneously to provide "holistic" picture of one's environment. Visual spatial skills. Holistic functions such as dancing and gymnastics are coordinated by the right hemisphere. Memory is stored in auditory, visual and spatial modalities.

So I see the world in intellectual 3D. Must suck to be you.

I’m gonna sit back and construct a model in my head to minimize line loss in the transport of electricity to remote areas – I am curious whether utilizing thermal protections naturally occurring three to six feet underground will have a statistically significant impact vis-à-vis running conveyance media above ground. I would think that increased installation costs would be offset by decreased maintenance. What's the breakeven for loss recapture to make this worthwhile? I've always thought that low-voltage thermal tape can be a net gain - what if you moderated the temperature inside the encasement to even 40 degrees F? You could balance depth (and initial cost) of installation with low-voltage thermal supplementation. I think roadways should be contructed with the same ability to heat above freezing - easy enough to make the flows sufficiently redundant to handle frost heave and other movement. Think of the saved costs in property and humans from removing the variable of ice from roadways. Let me think of this some more - why don’t you lean forward, pick up the remote with your right hand, and watch some TV?

helpful tips from your uncle clyde

I have always wondered about obsessive behavior. I don’t mean the good kind – like washing your hands 50 times or watching the clock tick second-by-second for 47 minutes (that’s 2,820 seconds; I know, I’ve sat with someone that did it because someone said they’d be home and weren’t). I mean the Einstein statement of insanity – doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result – type of obsession.

A person returns time and again to a rock. The rock is lifted, and perhaps the viewer expects to be comforted or, worse yet, knows he or she will be repulsed. Yet that person cannot stop him- or herself. Wherever their sojourn, they walk to the rock, lift it, and peer downward intently. They even know the burrows of the ground and what lay within them. Yet they cannot stop. Soon, they realize that the sojourn from which they deviated was designed to be sure that the rock was a part of it.

That is the bad kind of obsession.

If a person has the bad kind of obsession, it is time to stop looking at other people as the problem or the source of their ills. It is time to look inward. Yes, such an obsessed person really is that fucked up. Yes, those around him or her are right.

When that person can walk past the rock without even realizing it was there, then they are on the road to recovery. That’s a long way from present-day obsession. It is even further when one realizes that a rock so easily found cannot be every rock. There must be (and are) other rocks. And if the other rocks are not so easily found, it must be for a reason. The burrows under those rocks must be repulsive indeed! Bad obsession leads to paranoid delusions.

But never, ever forget: just because a person is certified “paranoid” (stamped ticket and all) has absolutely no bearing on the accuracy or inaccuracy of the assertion that people are, in fact, watching him or her.

If you think the former applies to you, jot down these DSM IV references: 300.3 Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, and 301.4 Obsessive-Compulsive Personality Disorder.

Here’s your diagnostic criteria:

Marked inflexibility and preoccupation with orderliness, perfectionism, and mental / interpersonal control, as indicated by at least four of the following:

Marked preoccupation with details, lists, order, organization, rules, or schedules.

Marked perfectionism that interferes with the completion of the task.

Excessive devotion to work.

Excessive devotion and inflexible when it comes to ethics, morals, or values.

Can not throw out worn-out, useless, or worthless objects, with no sentimental value.

Insist others work or do task exactly as they would.

View money as something to hoarded.

Stubborn and rigid.

If you think that the latter also applies, also write down: 301 Paranoid Personality Disorder.

Here are your diagnostic criteria for this, um, situation:

Marked distrust of others, as indicated by at least four of the following:

Believes without reason that others are exploiting, harming, or trying to deceive her / him.

Unjustified doubts about a friends / associates loyalty or trustworthiness.

Believes with out reason that if she / he confides in others, this information somehow be used against her / him.

Finds hidden demeaning or threatening meanings in harmless remarks or events.

Unforgiving and bears grudges.

Believes with out reason that people are out to attack his / her character or reputation and is quick to react with anger.

Believes with out reason in the fidelity of their sexual partner.

When it comes to treating 301-PPD, I am fond of a transactional approach.

Specifically, transactional analysis focuses on the clients cognitive and behavior functioning. The therapist helps the client evaluate their past decisions and how those decisions affect their present life. They believe self-defeating behavior and feelings can be overcome by an awareness of them.

The therapist believes that the client’s personality is made up of the parent, adult, and child. They believe that it is important for the client to examine past decisions to help their make new and better decisions.

The transactional approach is also available for treatment of the OCs, but I personally prefer pharmacotherapy (better living through chemistry).

I hope this has been helpful.