Tag Archives: comic

MATHEMATICIANS PLEASE GET YOUR ACT TOGETHER

I am fascinated by interesting numbers, like the “Golden Proportion”, or ratio.  However, in researching the number phi φ, or Phi Φ, I have found the usage of these Greek characters, in mathematics, to be completely confused and inconsistent.  Sometimes they are BOTH used to represent the number 1.618…, the Golden Mean, Golden ratio, Golden Proportion, Golden Egg (popped out by the Golden Goose).  Sometimes one (OR the other) is used to represent the “golden ratio conjugate”, or 0.618…  Please, mathematicians, get your act together, and settle on one usage or another, but please be consistent!

Lenny (Leonardo Fibonacci) is probably rollin’ in his grave over this! (purely conjecture on my part – don’t ask me for a “proof”).

I propose that it is logical for (capital) Phi, Φ, to symbolize the Golden Proportion, 1.618…, and (small) phi, φ, to symbolize 0.618… That makes perfect sense in mathematical terms, doesn’t it?  Since 0.618… is the smaller number (and geometrically the smaller portion, 0.618…, usually added to 1 to get the larger golden proportion, 1.618…)?  Quit confusing young, budding mathematicians with inconsistent usage.  On some sites, I have seen the usage confused on the SAME website, and sometimes in the same sentence (or maybe I just imagined that last one).

Don’t ask me for references, I don’t have the energy right now.  Just “Google” it and you will quickly see what I am talking about.

“Rant for the day”.

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DINNER PRAYER FOR FAT FOLKS, LIKE ME

Fire, water, air, and Earth,
I invoke ye now to reduce my Girth.
Let the food which Nourisheth Me
offereth forth Divine Energy,
that I shall fill with Magical Power,
expand my Spiritual Strength this hour.

Let all Excess leave my Bod,
Leaving only what is Good,
for my Fitness and my Health
and Generous Riches –
Bless my Food.

Why Are We Always Saying Such Dumb Things?

Like “dumb shit”. Yes, I have yet to hear shit say anything.  It IS pretty dumb.   Thanks for pointing out the obvious. The one I happen to be thinking about at the moment is “stupid-ass” or “stupid-ass’d”. I don’t know how to take that one. If someone says to me I am a stupid-ass, they are falsely assuming that my brains “should” be located in my posterior, rather than my head, and then complaining that they are not. And trying to call me a farm animal too. Personally, I am pleased that my brains are in my head and not my ass. So is that really a complement? More likely someone was not listening in anatomy class. Get your head out of your ass, people (as if that were really possible in the first place). So much of our conversation really says nothing, so I guess most of what we say is really “dumb” after all.

Of course, I have said nothing at all about “why” we say such things so often.  I guess it is just an “ape beating on its chest” kind of thing, to get attention, or to hear ourselves speak.  That is probably why I am writing this blog…

“Pop Goes The Ringtone”

Your phone is ringin’
off the hook,
it’s prolly just a scammer.
They’ll steal your cash
so if you’re an ass,
pick up the freakin’ phone.

Your phone is ringin’,
it’s prolly your boss,
you’re suppoz’ta be at work,
but you, dumbhead,
are still in the bed.
Get the freakin’ phone.

The phone is ringin’
off the hook,
but who could it be?
Maybe your friend
wants more money again.
Answer the freakin’ phone.

The phone’s goin’ crazy,
but who could it be?
It says an “unknown number”.
So grow a pair,
and if you dare,
answer the freakin’ phone.

The phone is ringin’,
it’s probably your mom;
she wants to talk your ass off.
Hour ‘n’ a half,
she still wants to yack.
Pick up the freakin’ phone.

 

Coming soon in a “.mp3”.  I have the “R”-rated nasty version.  8*)

You think my artwork is so bad that it’s funny, you should hear me sing this little ditty!  Yes, “I”, a 56-year old man, drew the weasel….Don’t make fun of me!  I don’t have a young kid to do it for me!  That’s the best I can manage…

My Dire-y 06/16/2015, For Cat People

As I approach the contraband laying on the floor in front of my favorite couch, I glance over at my kitties.  The guilty one is slowly slinking away with tail towards the floor.  Without a single word, I have found the guilty party.  I, of course, already knew this.  As cat owners, we all know who is guilty of what.  We know their personalities, their habits, their likes, and dislikes.  I know which cat (Gypsy) gets in the trash at night, and which one puts her toys in the water bowl (Gypsy), and who sneaks into the window curtains at night while I am asleep (both, but more Holly, and I can tell by which vertical blinds are pushed aside – they each have a particular spot), and which lady shits outside the box in protest (Holly; Gypsy actually goes behind Holly, and finishes the job of excrement coverage that Holly only gave paw-service to).  Yes, as cat people, we know who does what.

My downstairs trash can has (“Incorrect verb form after modal”, Fuck You, Grammar Nazi!) a rectangular piece of heavy cardboard, molded into a kind of garden planter shape.  It was part of the packing material from some computer equipment package or another……..probably.  It is exactly the proper size, when fitted upside-down inside the trash can, to snuggly fit inside, and bar access to the mostly paper and plastic trash hiding underneath.  Cats, being the resourceful and sneaky little bastards they are,  and Gypsy, an excellent example of the type, find such things to be a challenge to be overcome, rather than a “KEEP PAWS OUT!” sign.  Today it was a piece of cellophane, you know, the kind you pull off the outside of a new CD or DVD to get to the goods inside.  Cats just love this stuff.  The noise it makes while they pounce and chew only adds to their kitty-pleasure as they attack and destroy their hated foe.  To get at this little “toy”, I found that Gypsy had totally turned the blocking-block of cardboard upside-down, still resting inside the trash can.  I suppose she thought to hide the deed by not overturning the can, and by not digging the block completely out of the can.  But she failed to hide the plastic itself which was the real giveaway.

Yes, cats are much smarter and more resourceful than given credit for in the public eye.  I had taken to hiding the paper bag of cat food in the closet so that the little critters would not tear into the bag and spill cat food all over creation (my closet floor).  Now this closet, has the type of doors which fold onto themselves accordion style, and to the side when pulled from the center.  You know the type.  Thankfully one day, I spied Gypsy (yes, the naughtiest of the two) carefully reach her little white paw easily beneath the center of said door, and proceed to pull outward, opening the door.  Arrrgh, next I had to add a heavy weight in front of the center of the door, to keep them (you know who “them” are) from opening the door to the fascinating closet in which resides the desirable bag of cat food.

I have one of those plastic tubs, the kind you can get a gallon of ice cream in, from the grocery.  They are perfect for keeping dry cat food fresh, with a tight-fitting lid…air tight.  One morning I arose to an aborted attempt to get at the cat food.  somehow they had managed to get the lid off, and push the container off the counter and onto the floor.  Now, it wasn’t quite the mess you would expect.  Somehow, God only knows, the tub ended up upside-down on the kitchen floor, on an area rug in front of the sink.  All of the dry cat food was still inside the container, and resting on the rug, with not a single crumb outside the tub (or maybe they ate all the ones that were).  BUT…………………………………..this was not their last attempt.

I keep the tub towards the back of the counter, kinda in a corner.  One day, they managed to pull the tub out from the counter.  Then, they very carefully extracted the lid, and very neatly laid it upside-down on the counter behind the tub.

I am sure they had a feast that night!

Damn nosy-naughty-obstinate-stubborn-smartass-resourceful-stomach-driven-cute-little-furballs, full of headaches, fun, surprises, and even grudging shows of affection.  They manage to show just the right amount of love and innocence needed, to keep you from being mad at them for more than a millisecond.  Don’t try to tell me cats are not smart!  They know exactly how to emotionally manipulate their “human’s” to get exactly what they want (which, not surprisingly, is mostly always FOOD).

I growl and complain,

but love them just the same.

They know exactly when to crawl onto your lap, purr, and knead your leg (painfully), while manipulating and seducing you into scratching behind their ears, and with half-closed eyes, give a purrrrfect impression of a little companion who loves, adores, and desperately needs your love, affection, and attention – mostly in the kitchen.

No, don’t tell me cats are not freakin’ smart!

I Wish I Could Draw

I am just in a freakin’ weird mood today. It all started with a simple thought, “I wish I could draw”. Now before y’all (break out a little Ohio hillbilly here) get excited and try to talk me into believing that anyone can draw, let me tell you something. I think it might have something to do with the MMN (Multifocal Motor Neuropathy) I have, but even as a young teenager at church camp, girls standing next to me were asking why I was shaking. A the time, of course, I had my arms around the waists of two lovely girls – one on each side (you know, boy-girl-boy-girl…). Hey, it was a liberal church camp in the early 70’s and peace, love, and flower children still had a place in society. But anyway, seriously, I cannot draw a simple circle that looks anything like a circle. Now, if I had been trying to draw a lopsided egg with acne, it might have worked. I can’t draw a straight line without curves, bumps, and little jerky things all over it. I just don’t have any steadiness at all in my muscles. NO, it is not a matter of seeing what I want to draw, I can see it fine, hitting the mark is the problem. After all these years, I STILL cannot color within the lines. Thank God for paint programs with bucket-fill.

Well, this led to the next thought of “what would you do if you could draw?”. This is where it gets weird.

I would draw a picture of a cat (bring cats into the mix and you always have a winner) spread-eagle on the glass of a copy machine, and call it…………”catscan”.

How about a cat sitting in the business end of a drawn slingshot…………….”catapult”.

One we have all seen numerous times before, a scene having similarities to a room hit by a tornado, with a couple of cats lookin’ all “What, I didn’t see nothin'” like the sneaky little bastards thought you would miss the double negative there. Of course, what else could it be but……………”catastrophe”.

WARNING: Those troubled by violent graphic images should just skip this one. A mangled up and bloody mess of a cat along the side of the road………..”category”.

Stop me anytime, I could keep doing this all day…

A cat in motion on its hind legs…………”catwalk”.

A cat at a desk in spectacles, writing in a ledger………….”catalog”.

Some words need no picture, like “catnap”, “catfight”, “caterwaul”, “catnip”, “cattiness”….we ALL know why THEY start with “cat”.

A circle of cats surrounding a tall slender stone monument, a spiritual symbol of feline “catechism”…………..”caterpillar”.

A cat’s claws firmly entrenched in a woman’s long flowing hair, slowly sliding towards the ground, as gravity exerts its inevitable force,………..”catacomb”.

OK, enough, enough, my head is about to explosively catabolize, resulting in a personal cataclysm, or send me running for Catatmandu (cat spelling of Katmandu) for some seriously needed   R & R.

So, that is why I wish I could draw.

And occasionally they are awake at the same time...
And occasionally they are awake at the same time…