What's New?

I wrote this at the end of 2005 and not much has changed, except I spellchecked it this time:

Another New Year. I guess we all share a universal sense of optimism when a new year rolls around. Even those jaded cynics among us who (perhaps like me) who have begun so many New Years with a list of resolutions and the hope of peace and prosperity, and then witnessed the dissolution of those hopes in the fire hose of reality.
It  was another one of those years when the idea of World Peace seems like a childish aspiration. Threats - real and imagined - abound. China and Russia are drifting back to totalitarianism.

None of our old friends likes us anymore. Perhaps Randy Newman (Let's drop the big one and see what happens) should be the next president. We need someone with a sense of humor.

We don't even like each other! The Dems are calling the Republicans liars and corrupt. The Neocons seem to have patented a new definition for patriotism which sounds to me too much like nationalism. I recall that the Nazi's came to power by focusing the people's attention on the internal and external threats and then ruthlessly punished eliminated any form of dissent or opposition. As a country, we have polarized to the extremes. There is no middle. The bell curve is now a statistical pucker when it comes to politics. Each side says "Either you are with us (and shut-up). or you are helping the enemy." Good old-fashioned compromise is out of the question. How can you find common ground with traitors, socialists, Nazis?

Amazingly, after centuries of barbaric warfare (much of it over differences in religious beliefs), we have learned nothing. Some of us have distilled (or should I say, "dumbed-down") our political philosophy down to a few defining issues.  Unfortunately it will take another national tragedy for the sides to come together.

But, despite the gloomy assessment for the prospects of peace, I look ahead to a new year with a sense of renewal and optimism, just like the rest of the naive children.

More Humbug Notes

Electronic Season's Greetings
Oh yeah, Don't let me forget to mention how annoying those electronic E-vites and E-Greeting Cards are.  (If you have sent me one, I probably deleted it instead of reading it.)

Do you people think the rest of us are just sitting around grumbling in our porridge, wondering why our lives aren't more cutesy -- so you think you can warm our spirits with an animated cartoon of a dog wearing a Santa hat?  Cripes, why don't you just send us an email that says:

"Hi, this is probably an afterthought or perhaps I am too lazy or cheap to actually put any effort into this greeting, I only send real cards with holiday themed postage stamps to my A-list people, and well, you know..."

Humbug!


Giving toCharity

Oh, and could that annoying person ringing the Salvation Army bell just give it a rest for a few minutes? Better yet, Go away!  I hate having to walk around you to get through the door at the supermarket every time I go there.  Stop making eye contact like I was some kind of cheapskate, trying to make me feel guilty while you are ever so smug standing there freezing your ass off for a noble cause.  The bell is just annoying! Stop it!   

Anyway, I already gave.  I sent a check when I got the solicitation in the mail just before Thanksgiving. Not a huge amount, I admit, but did that make them happy? 
No, since I sent the check I have received no fewer than 4 more solicitations in the mail.
But no acknowledgement for my donation.  

Mailing isn't free.  Why are they wasting contributed cash on marketing?  I conclude that it is unlikely that any of my donated money will make a difference in any needy person's life.  The Salvation Army has become another one of those charity machines that use small donations to fund an ever-expanding marketing campaign.  This is rewarding, I'm sure,  for list-processors, mailing companies and executives, but I do not feel that my contributions are being well spent.

A news item the other day, repored that some "charities" are spend more than 50 cents of every dollar received to pay off the marketing firm that made the calls and sent out the solicitations.  Such schemes and scams go on all the time.

For the record,  the only charity I am giving to in future us The Boston Globe Santa which uses 100% of the donated funds to buy necessities for the poor kids in Boston Area.  You go Globe!

There are more things that annoy me at this time of year, but that's enough for now.

Christmas Shopping notes: Humbug

Like most executives, ship captains and other sensible adults, I don't like surprises.   Most people would agree that unforeseen circumstances are the bane of good plans, the downfall of the mighty, and the spoiler of sleep. 

Yet when it comes to gift giving, the consensus is that the recipient must be surprised by the gift -- As if the sudden delight of seeing a matching pen and pencil set somehow makes the mundane thing more magical.    Well,  I don't like surprise gifts.

To people who don't understand this point of view, it seems like a challenge.  They will go out of their way to prove to me that I was not sufficiently surprised in the past, because as everyone knows, "everybody loves surprises".  

I really don't like giving gifts or getting them.  I am too picky to let other people choose things for me.  It just creates stress.  Relatives yell at me, "You are so hard to buy for, you are so fussy!"  Hey, don't get me a gift; it's OK.  If I want something that I can afford, I just go and buy it anyway.   I don't need gloves, ties or screwdriver sets made in Korea.   
Bah!

Some people think its fun to do Secret Santa.  I always receive some useless $10 gift card to some place I never go.  What can you buy for $10 anyway?  No wonder 40% of all gift cards are never fully used by the recipient.  This amounts to a $1.8 billion rebate to retailers.


 Needless to say, I hold the idea of a Yankee Swap to be a naked exercise in greed and disapointment.  Who decided that it would be fun to steal someone elses gift?  One person gets what they want and everyone else gets crap.

OH, and let us not forget the "Gift of Disapointment" the Lottery scratch ticket.  99% of the time You end up with nothing but green wax under your fingernails.
So in my book Christmas gifts and surprises are fine for the kiddies, but once you realize that Christmas is just another excuse for retailers to embrace large portions of your net worth, the wow factor is kinda fading after the first fruitcake you get in the mail from Aunt Matilda.

I hate to pile reindeer poop on your oatmeal, Virginia, but there is very little chance for peace on earth, much less goodwill towards your fellow man.  No matter how many cards you send or receive. 

Hey, enjoy your holidays in your own way.  You may get a big kick from the mystery of a wrapped gift under your holiday tree waiting for the big morning.  I don't -- Unless the package looks like a bottle of 18 year old single malt scotch.  

 Then I'm all Ho-Ho-Ho! 

No Excuses

Now, faithful fans, you all know that I am not one of those whiner bloggers who make excuses for not writing more often.  I have no excuses. I prefer to spin my excuses as "priorities". Sometimes it happens that there are so many more interesting things to do than logging on the computer and imparting sage thoughts and observations to a largely anonymous audience, for free.



Well, the other day one of the neighborhood mothers accosts me as I am innocently returning from my daily 5 mile walk. She is standing, gabbing with the other doting moms who are waiting for the 3 O'clock school bus to disgorged their pampered kids who can't be trusted to to walk home without getting into trouble.  She practically grabs me by the shirt and demands to know why I don't update the Blog more often.  

I wonder if this so called working mom really understands what being "busy" means.

Heck, she has probably has  nothing to do all day while the kids are in school.  How hard is it to do the laundry and clean house when you have HD TV's in every room?   And, when the kids come home from school you can get them to do all the work you couldn't finish because you were on the sofa watching The View and Dr Oz. 

Whereas, on the other hand,  I have a day of challenges.  On a typical day, I am rousted out of bed shortly after 9am.  I go downstairs, have my breakfast and coffee, read two papers and by then it is 11am.  If I have lunch scheduled, I need to get ready - often this involves a search for relatively unwrinkled clothes and possibly a shower.  If there is no lunch scheduled  then I go through all the take-out menus to see what I feel like and then send out for lunch.  After lunch, I generally spend some time working around the yard  or calling friends and chatting or shopping for dinner.  Perhaps I will have time for an afternoon walk or a nap.  I also cook on the days when my wife is working.  

On the days when the cleaners come, I have to straighten up everything. This includes:

•  Putting old magazines and newspapers away. 
•  Discarding all the junk mail that has been collecting for the past two weeks on the kitchen counter,  
•  Picking up scattered socks and other clothing items that have been tossed on the closet floor and putting them in the laundry hamper.
• Taking empty beer bottles out to the garage.
• Putting music CD's back in their cases and in storage.
• etc.

  I usually go over to the nearest Irish pub when the cleaners arrive - to give them room to work.
 When I get back home, the place looks great, but I am more in the mood for a nap than blogging.


So, you see I have lots of priorities that trump blogging, so get off my case.  OK?

"Turn Out the Lights, The Party's Over''

Any football fan who is over 55 can probably idenitify the source of the quote "Turn Out the Lights, The Party's Over.''  It probably wasn't from the Willie Nelson tune.  You most likely heard it from "Dandy" Don Meredith on Monday Night Football back in the good ol days.

Meredith ventured into that dark night last Sunday at the age of 72.  

Good Santa

I bumped into this guy yesterday.  He was all "Ho ho ho." 

I asked him to bring me a case of single malt scotch for Christmas. 

He said, "No problem."

Should I believe him?

My new software

Well I thought I would report on the status of the Dragon speech to text software.
Yesterday, I purchased a 1 GB upgrade memory stick for $45 at Staples,  and installed it
Finally,  I was able to install Dragon software and I'm using it to dictate this blog entry.

 It's pretty freaking good if you asked me. It's amazing that  even after a few minutes of training I can speak into the microphone and have the text printed out on the screen as if I was a very fast typist.

Okay, I did need to do a little editing. But not as much as I would've thought.

I don't think I will ever type again.
===============================

Fixed Income and Unfixed costs

For the past several years I have dutifully scanned the various job listings Internet for a good part time job.  I think I have wasted enough of your time griping about the seemingly nonexistent demand for skilled professionals who are only willing to work 20-24 hours per week. 

So it is that I remain on a fixed income (SS) plus the few occasional shekels I receive from oddball projects and selling my original works of sheer genius, humor and pathos as fillers for mass media.  The additional income barely covers my Starbucks and bar bills, so I am relegated to funding the bulk of living expenses against the SS pension.  I call myself a FFIY  (Frugal Fixed Income Yankee).

"What about your nest egg?"  you are probably asking.  You assume that I have stashed away a couple of mil against the future.  Or maybe you think I have a hidden trust fund like Paris Hilton. Well, dear reader, we are Irish, so instead of inheriting a trust fund, we had to chip in to bury my widowed mother a decade ago.

As for the nest egg, well some [expletive deleted] is probably living in Rio de Janeiro sitting on a beach surrounded by semi-naked young women, with an ice chest full of Sierra Nevada, puffing on a Cuban Presidente on the money we had invested in AIG before the big crash.   I am not jealous. 
I am confident that the Almighty has a plan for me too.  That's why I dutifully buy Powerball tickets, every week.

=========
Unfixed Prices.
Americans are not accustomed to haggling over prices.  Somehow we have been instilled with the idea that it is insulting to the seller for us to offer a drastically low price for a product or service.  We tend to think all prices are fixed.  Well, honey, they aren't!

At the Mall a few weeks ago, I happened upon a kiosk that was selling Dragon Software.  For those who aren't familiar, this software lets you talk into a mike, and the computer types out the text into a document that you can store and save. Pretty cool stuff for a writer, eh?  Especially one who types with two fingers, who has twenty years' worth of handwritten journals to transcribe...  

Well, I decided I needed this software.  The list price for the basic home edition is normally $99, but they were selling it on a holiday special for $75 (plus 6% state sales tax).  I resisted the urge to buy it n the spot, mainly because I am a frugal fixed-income Yankee who needs to check out all the details before I buy something.  There were questions:  will it play on my operating system? how much training is needed, yadda yadda.  Can I run it on more than one computer? What if I want to write in french?
I checked out a few of the usual internet sales outfits, and found various prices for the same item.
 Last week I ordered a copy of the software online at Amazon for $39 free shipping, no tax.  It was delivered three days later. (I haven't loaded the disk yet. Stay tuned for my product review.)
The point is that the price of things is so relative as to be shockingly disparate.  I checked today, and Amazon has raised their price to $49 plus $4.99 for shipping. 

I wonder what the price will be tomorrow.
*******
UPDATE:
I attempted to load the software, but the disk could not be read.  My DVD plays music disks so I think it still works for data.  I called the help desk, and did not have to wait.  The Tech Support guy (Rod) gave me a link to download the installation files via internet.  This failed, the error message says I do not have enough RAM to run the software.  Fine tiime to tell me.

Humph!  Now I will have to spend hundreds to use my new $40 software package.  Time for a new Laptop? 
******

The Big Head Problem

You probably don't have a big head. This is not to suggest that you aren't full of yourself to an unwarranted degree (because you probably are).


I mean big head in the physical size sense. You know: girth. Circumference.  Hat size.


I just mention it because it seems that most people have diminutive heads that actually do fit into the "One Size Fits All" hats. Clearly these caps are designed by and tested on tiny-headed workers.  My theory is that these are the same people who design commercial jet plane and stadium seats. 

People with big heads look goofy wearing an ordinary baseball cap. They are not designed to fit comfortably on Mensa-sized skulls like mine. So, I have to buy my size 7 3/4 hats at an online site called Big Head Hats. They cater to the "cranially endowed" market. The hats and caps are made in China and tested on offensive Football linemen. Then, shipped from Tennessee, USA.


I read somewhere that there is a correlation between head size and brain size - ergo higher intelligence. I personally do not claim this intellectual power, because I cannot understand why a fat guy with a small head can easily buy a 4X size Hawaiian shirt, but I with my big face, cannot find a pair of sunglasses that won’t slide off my nose into my chili.


Everything seems to be designed for you - the average sized humanoid. I can assume that you are average because – according to statistics - it is most likely that you are ensconced in the bulge of your cohort’s bell curve. Oh, you probably want to be a nonconformist (just like everyone else), but chances are, you are one of the one-size-fits-all masses.


At least that seems to be what the political machinery of this country thinks. That is why the major political parties do not even pretend to nominate the best and/or the brightest. They identify the characteristics and values that they think will appeal to the most voters and then shape their candidates to fit that profile. I think that if you check the hat size of most ideologues you will find that they are on the low end of average cranial girth.

You might get a chuckle out of the label's Washing Instructions: "Buy another Hat." 

Thanksgiving thoughts

Hope no one minds if I reprise one of my favorite works of holiday-themed flash fiction from a few years ago.

I suppose I need to repeat that it is a work of fiction. 

Over The River & Across the Tracks



It was chilly outside as we headed to Granny Gert's house for the annual Thanksgiving Feast. Uncle Gelbert was driving the old pink and white Nash Rambler wagon. Pap sat in the shotgun seat with the window open. Pap was pretty hung-over and every few miles he would yell for Gelbert to pull over so he could puke out the window. We - Maw, Throckmorton, and me sat in back, bundled-up. We were used to Pap's hangovers, and the lingering smell of his vomit on everything.

We were, of course, late. We were late for everything, except the time back in Montana when me and Throck were born. That was the one time we were early for anything. Still, Ma always said that we could've made it to the hospital except Pap was at the roadhouse when the first contractions came and she had to wait two hours for him to come home to take her to the docs.

When we arrived at Granny Gert's trailer, we piled-out of the car. Granny's dogs greeted us in the usual fashion - barking raucously, jumping on us, glad to have visitors.
"Git back you lot!" Granny shouted coming down the steps waving a cattle prod.
Me and Throck looked at each other wondering if she meant us or the dogs. The dogs thought it was them and they instantly fell into a heap near the trailer steps. Then she went over to where Pap and uncle Gelbert were standing.
"Georgie! Gelbert! You two boys!" They eyed her suspiciously.
"Give us a hug." She bellowed. They complied meekly.
"I see you haven't changed your naughty ways, Georgie." she said to Pap, nodding to the flecks of puke dripping from the side and rear panel of the Rambler. He shrugged.


We all went inside to warm-up.
Ma had brought a package of frozen peas and another of frozen squash. Pap produced a 5th of Gallo Creme Sherry from a brown bag and waved it over his head like it was the US open winners trophy. We all applauded approvingly, except Gramps who hadn't even noticed us arrive. He sat in a ratty old chair facing the small black and white TV screen watching a football game.

Granny, who was returning from the cupboard with a tray of half-filled jelly glasses, nodded towards Gramps with her head, "Somebody go and shake him. His hearing aid batteries went dead last month and he hasn't been much for conversation."
Pap went over and stood in front of the TV, blocking the view.
"Hi dad," he grinned toothlessly.
The old man looked at him, not recognizing him for a moment. Then a big smile. "Georgie, hey, sit down. Watch the game. Did you bring anything to drink?"

Dinner was predictable. Granny heated the turkey loaf in the microwave and poured a can of beef gravy over it. She had mixed up a batch of instant whipped potatoes, and had fried the green peas in a pan. Each little pea had a burn mark, which she instantly renamed 'black-eyed green peas". She proudly announced that she had bought new plastic utensils for the occasion and Chinette plates and cups.

Even though we were 20 years old, me and Throckmorton had to take our plates to a card
table in the living room while "the adults" - Granny, Gramps, Gelbert, Pap and Maw crowded around the breakfast nook. There was a hair in my gravy. But I wasn't hungry anyway.


Halfway through the meal Granny remembered the Squash, which was still thawing on the counter.
"Save your plates everybody, we can have this for desert. And don't nobody throw away them new plastic cutlery!"
After all the remnants of the meal had been cleared and piled in the sink, we sat watching the end of the football game, cleaning our teeth with individually wrapped mint-flavored toothpicks, like the ones you get at the Chinese restaurant. It had gotten dark, so Granny turned on a few more lamps.

We heard a truck pull up outside. Young Billy came through the door, red-faced from the cold, but beaming.
"Hi everybody, sorry I'm late. There was a wreck on the highway. Look what I got!"
He held up a bloody wallet that looked thick with a wad of bills, and a severed finger with a large diamond ring still on it.

Gramps stared at the swag and then asked hopefully, "Didn't you bring anything to drink?"
####

I lost my Glasses

Hmmn, I've looked everywhere but they're gone.  Not on the car, not in the closet, not in the pockets of my coat, not hidden under the jumble of newspaper.  Gone.

I know what you are thinking:  All old people "lose" their reading glasses at least once a day.
You think I have just misplaced them, and that they will turn up shortly, when I remember where I left them. 
But no, this time they are really lost. 

I had them yesterday morning when I went out.  I discovered them missing at Home Depot whern I was trying to read the small print on the package I was looking at.  I checked every pocket.  Gone.

The worst thing about it, they were the expensive bifocals that I never take with me if I leave the house.
 The only reason I took them with me is I have lost all of my traveling glasses too.
Where do they end-up, all those glasses??

Last Chance

Lets all go over to Newton and park tonight! Last chance!

Selections from The E-Mailbag

Dear Former Co-worker,

I just received your email, asking if I knew anyone who could help you in your annual (or is it semi-annual) job search.  How nice of you to think of me, even if I am just one of dozens of addresses on your email blast, I realize that personal notes are just too time-consuming for the anticipated payback.  Woefully inefficiant. 

If I was working myself, I might have contacts, but alas I too am unemployed.  I guess the big difference is that I chose to be unemployed, whereas you became unemployed because of someone else's choice.

Hard to figure why any organization would let you get way,  given the invaluable qualities that you demonstrate - that highly-developed sense of entitlement, relentess assertiveness, and that mono-maniacal energy that narcissists possess to accomplish their self-promoting goals.   These characteristics should be much valued by the hamster-brained sociopaths that populate the management ranks at most companies.

Well, it was great to hear from you again.  You can be sure that I will be spending literally minutes thinking of ways to help you, so you needn't follow-up with calls or more mass e-mails. I have always felt honored to be among the first hundred or so people that you contact each time you are looking for a new job. 

I do have a tip.  I just heard the UPS needs more package handlers at holiday time and they are staffing up to beat the band. I think you could do well there.  Don't bother to thank me.  Best of luck in your new job... and Happy Holidays.

Your Networking Contact

Robocalls

I really hate it when some computer calls me with a recorded message telling me to vote for someone.

Really, does anyone really think that a dumb-ass recorded message is going to change my mind in favor of the candidate?  This seems to be one of the expensive delusions that candidates and campaign managers agree on.  They all do it.   It should be banned. 

I think that robocalling must be one of the biggest methods to waste campaign dollars, annoy potential voters and put more bling and jingle into the pockets of  technophile marketing consultants and script writers. 

The recipient of a robocall might well end-up wanting to cast a vote against the caller. If he could talk to the automated message he might say something like, "Gee thanks for calling during dinner. My porridge was probably too hot to eat anyway.  I know you are too busy to personally call me and ask me what my interests are so you just target your message to an age or economic demographic and read the platitudes that some script writer has made thousands of dollars composing. ...  Well why don't you go get a zucchini and[expletive deleted] yourself!"


Peter Drucker said that the most useless thing in business is doing efficiently that which should not be done at all.  I think this applies to automating the process of inadvertently alienating voters.

Halloween Greetings



Trick-or-treat THIS!

 This is how I feel about Halloween.                             ======>



I just heard on the radio that there has never been a documented  case in the USA of anyone poisoning candy or putting sharp objects in apples at Halloween.   The chief hazard to children on Halloween is getting run over by a car as they dart across streets in frenzied search of stale candy.

Yet these urban myths about dangerous dispensers of tainted treats remain lodged in our memories causing parents to spread fear and distrust to yet another generation of whiny, weenie kids.

Maybe every costume should come with a helmet, just to be safe. 

On Halloween, we don't give out stale candy anymore. We shut off the outside lights and go to a nice restaurant.  It is the one night of the year when you can dine in peace without some kid at the next table banging his spoon on his plate (usually while the seemingly deaf parents separately check their individual IPhone or blackberry hoping for some interesting message that might save them from the tedium of polite conversation.)

This year the best venue will be the local sports bar, where we can watch the Patriots massacre the Vikings.
==================
Update on Oct 28th.  In WSJ today, an article by Lenore Skenazy titled "Stranger Danger and the decline of Halloween" discusses the topic of parental over caution.  I think Ms Skenarzy was the person being interviewed on NPR.  She has wtitten a book called "Free Range Kids."  (I guess her point is that they taste better than the children who are kept in confined pens and fed growth hormones and kibble :-)

Holy Crap

Talk about your Holy Crap! moments.  Last week, we learned that while President Bill Clinton was very attuned planning his Lewinsky moments in the Oval Office  he effing lost the effing nuclear codes needed to launch a response to an enemy's attack on the US.     Holy crap! 

More Notes From the Lagging Edge

Notes from the lagging edge -2


I'm not a Luddite. In fact, am a fan of the practical application of technology (e.g., Bar coding, Fast Lane/EZPass transponder, ID chips for pets), but I do not get the love affair that so many of you have with your iPhone, blackberry and other expensive, battery-powered gizmos.

If you ask me, the miniaturization concept has gone way past reasonable.  These little "keypads" are too tiny to operate  for anyone who is over age 30.  And the screens are just a blur without reading glasses.

Moreover, the sound quality on mobile devices is pathetic.  Ringtones are annoyingly tinny and distorted.  Voice quality is choppy and uneven.

Next time you go to the mall or a restaurant look around and watch people and their gadgets.  If two people are dining one or both of them will have a mobile device on the table between them -  a subtle but strong signal to the other of his priorities.

If the person is alone, they try to appear busy by constantly checking their mobile device.  I don't know why other people feel awkward when they are alone;  I don't feel that way at all.  I usually pull out my notebook and scribble some nonsense to make anyone watching me think I am writing something important.

Sent From My Dingleberry

Odds and Ends

Equal Access
A Pittsfield, MA woman is trying to get an initiative on the ballot to allow "equal access to sunshine."  She is collecting signatures from supporters to rewrite the legal definition of nudity.  She doesn't like the term "topless" because it apparently conjures up images of more prurient nipple exposers.  She just wants the right to swim and sunbathe without a shirt, to feel the warmth of the sun on her chest. If I was Joe Biden, I might respond,  "I have just three words for you, young lady: where do I sign?"


Tea Party Madness
You must admit, American politics is a lot more interesting with a third party shaking things up for both Dems and Repubs with their NO taxes! NO big government! mottoes.
I was amused to read a letter in the Globe today, where the writer suggests that the historical origin of the Tea Party as a symbolic reference is more apt if you consider the Lewis Carroll vision.  Some purists object to the hijacking of the patriotic event known as the Boston Tea Party.  If you do not agree that the inspiration of the current Tea Party is rooted in the noble acts of disobedience of the original no-taxation-without-representation crowd, you might reframe the allusion.  Remember Alice in Wonderland? The writer suggest that the current tea party participants evoke similarities to characters in Alice's world - jabberwocky, mad hatters, crazed queens and such. 

Everyone Needs a Little Inspiration Now and Then

I recommend the article "Slumping at Work? What would Jack Do"  by Sue Shellenbarger  in WSJ Personal Journal section today.  It's about working executives who overcame personal performance shortcomings at their workplace by using the experiences of professional sports figures as guides to break out of their perceived "slump."

Jack of course refers to golfer Jack Nicklaus who visualizes himself making great shots as a tactic to overcome slump inducing anxiety.

Slumps are mainly caused by fear.  Fear can often be a mighty motivator but also can be a powerful paralyzer.  Fear of repeating mistakes can lead to a loss of confidence which leads to over thinking the next move which, well, just keeps building on doubt and fear,  leading your performance down a rat hole.

Good news: the execs in this article used sports legends and their techniques for breaking-out of acknowledged slumps as their inspiration.  These techniques also work for bloggers and other writers/artists who may be experiencing a creative block.

The most powerful techniques for overcoming self doubt are actually quite simple: Remind yourself of past successes, engage in positive self-talk, visualize your success, keep the company of encouraging people, focus on your original purpose and your key personal strengths.

========================

I suspect there may also be a wider general application of these techniques to inspire greatness from those of us who are unwittingly forced by lethargy and gluttony to attain a state of  XXL obesity. Some experimentation would seem to be in order. 

1. Visualize your Success.  I decided to visualize myself as a thin person. I looked in the imaginary mirror and saw an L, with sagging neck skin and deep wrinkles, sad eyes and the haunted look of starvation.  I flicked imaginary flies from my drawn lips.   Ok....That didn't quite work....I decided to try something else.

2.  Surround yourself with encouraging people.  I went to the local pub where everyone knows my name.  They seemed glad to see me.  I declined the proffered dish of popcorn.  "No thanks, I'm cutting back on between meal snacks,"  I declared.  "Good for you, " the barmaid murmured with her Irishly ironic lilt.  Was she rolling her eyes as she poured my IPA?  No! banish that thought of self doubt!   As I sipped my pint, my gaze fell upon the mirror behind the bar.  Peering back was an aging XXL pink faced white haired guy.  That guy needs to work-out more, I thought.

3. Positive Self Talk.  After a few pints, I paid the tab, waved goodbye to my fans, lurched off the bar stool. On the way out, I ducked into the Gents for a quick pre-traffic whiz.  After washing my hands, I stood in front of the mirror, smoothed my hair and smiled warmly.  "You look fabulous." I said loudly pointing to the mirror.  Someone in one of the stalls called back "Thanks Mate, doing me best." I beat it out of there before someone recognized me.

On the way home, I tried to remember what my original purpose was and whether I could focus on my  personal strengths.  The thinking made me hungry, so I stopped at Mickee Dee's for a quick double cheeseburger and fries.  "You want large or small fries?" said the muffled voice in the drive-thru
speaker.  "Make it small," I replied, "I'm cutting back on..um..calories." 

Technical Advice From the Valley of the Technically Challenged

I spent at least six hours trying to get my new all-in-one printer  to recognize the FIOS wireless router.

My New All-in-one-Device

If you have this problem I can save you 5 and one half hours:  Reset your Router which will disable mac (Media Access Control) filtering. 

I bought the printer on a whim when I saw an on-line ad from Staples.  I bought it because my wife complained that our old deskjet printer took too long and besides she needed to fax stuff. 
She uses a laptop which connects to the wireless router which comes with FIOS.  But, when she wanted to print something, she was always kicking me off MY desktop PC which was connected to the old 640C printer.
It cost about $275 including free shipping.  "All-in-one" seems a bit of a misnomer.  It does not have a coffee maker or popcorn popper.  It says it will scan, copy, fax, and oh yeah, print.
As soon as I got the new printer working, my wife said,"Good.  Now put it in the basement.  It's too big to have up here." 

If this was Facebook or Twitter I might post: Holy Crap I have a scanner!

Anyway,  I thought I would test the scanning feature of the new printer:  
 I found this photo taken "a few" years ago, back in the pre-digital world of 35mm.  This is my favorite original oil painting, done by my formerly bohemian artist sister, Chris (which she asked me to destroy after she found Jesus.  The devil in me could not comply. So I keep it hidden in my basement "office.")

Blogger Poses With  Muse.

Pretty cool! Eh?