We Come to Praise Facilities Planners

How could we survive if the people in charge of the budget and the facilities at JCCC were not on the job. Last spring, these people chose to close down the restrooms across from my office. I might think that updating an existing restroom would take a couple of weeks. No such luck. This process dragged on for months.

But do not fear. In place of our perfectly serviceable (if slightly time-worn) restrooms, we go shinier and far-less-functional ones. I can’t speak to the goings on in the women’s restroom, but the men’s fails any reasonable test.

Apparently, we have a serious germ phobia at JCCC. While we all survived from this building’s dawn in 1972 until 2011 by actually touching things in the facilities, we now have motion activated everything. The toilets flush on their own. The sinks spew water only when hands are beneath the spigot. The soap dispenser is motion-triggered as is the paper-towel dispenser. Oh brave new world!

The problem is that none of this stuff really works as advertised. More often than not, the toilet will flush for no apparent reason as I stand or sit in its vicinity. Sometimes it takes two or three flushes for me to leave the area in an acceptable shape. We’re all about sustainable use of water at the college.

On the other hand, the faucets and soap dispensers work only intermittently. To get soap seems to require some sort of incantation. Water spurts out in two-second increments. Hot water, it would seem, has entirely disappeared from the scene.

The problem, it seems to me is that people felt the need to spend money we didn’t have to fix a problem that had not arisen and install improvements that haven’t improved anything. Other than that, they’ve done a great job.

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Coffee Day Intolerance

Yesterday, I scarcely need to remind you, was National Coffee Day, prompting a friend of mine to post this on his Facebook:

The day after National Coffee Day is always a let-down. No one says, “happy Coffee Day” anymore; no more coffee music on the radio; all the Coffee Day decorations come down. Only 364 more days until it comes again though. <sigh>

Having suffered through the entire build-up to National Coffee Day, I can’t take it any longer. I lashed out at this guy. You see, while all around me are reveling in their coffee, I’m a lonely creature on the American landscape, an acoffeeist.

Frankly, life would be simpler for me if I liked coffee. I’ve tried, honestly, to develop a taste for coffee, but it just doesn’t work. I can go to Starbucks and pretend, but it’s a sham, a lie. No longer will I stand silently as my freedom of conscience (in the beverage realm) is marginalized by the overwhelming force of a coffee-swilling and, frankly, intolerant majority. No more, I say!

Do not great with with your unctuous “Happy Coffee Day” greetings next year! I will not smile and wish you the same. Instead, have the decency to wish me a “Happy Hot Beverage Day.” Or better yet, since that might offend those who don’t appreciate any hot drink, simply refuse to speak entirely.

When you start singing your favorite coffee carols, I’ll be blaring out “Tea for Two.” And don’t even get me started about my officemate, the guy who blithely smiles and pretends to love all mankind while decking his half of the hall with burlap coffee bags. He thinks it decoration, but I recognize the caffeine-addled head of oppression when I see it.

With a Starbucks on every corner, with grocery aisles lined in the malodorous stench of the coffee bean, all acoffeeists in American society have this drink shoved in their faces. Was it not Thomas Jefferson, that advocate of the separation of church and state, who called coffee “the favored drink of the civilized world”? No more! State-sponsored bigotry is bigotry nonetheless.

 

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Have You Ever Felt Like a Fraud?

In one of his stories, the Japanese writer Yukio Mishima describes the work of students as a very clever exercise in fraud:

 The adults demanded that everything we absorbed within those confines should be ‘worthwhile.’ So, quite naturally, we learned the alchemist’s way of faking things, creating from lead a spurious substance which we persuaded our patrons was gold till, in the end, we were convinced ourselves that we’d produced the precious metal. It was the school’s cleverest alchemist who earned the label of model student. The ‘model student,’ indeed, is one of the most accomplished frauds in any field.”
–Yukio Mishima in “Cigarette,” Acts of Worship.
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My Brief Fiction Read at Creative Writing Event Today

Lefty Lancaster Gets in Touch with His Inner Aristocrat

Now I don’t show this to everyone, but that one’s my last gal, up there high on my shoulder. Maybe I should’ve waited before adding her name to the epidermis, but she was quite the package. I thought we’d keep it together for the long haul, but we know how those things can come apart.

            You don’t mind me saying that, do you? Calling her “quite the package”? You know what I’m saying, right? You don’t strike me as somebody who has to be the best looking girl in the room. You are. Don’t get me wrong. Anybody who says otherwise, has an appointment with these boots, but you’re–what would the head shrinks say?–you’re secure in your self image.

She might have said that. I think she studied psychology at the community college, but that wasn’t what split us apart. I liked her smarts. The fact is, I liked a lot about her. The feel of those arms around my waist.The smell of her perfume when she’d draw up close to my ear to talk over the engine. She’d ride every day if she could. Honestly, I think she might have dug riding more than I do. Strange, but that’s where the problem got started.

You look at me, my beard, my bike, everything about me. You know I’m not some weekend warrior, some wannabe who goes to the office on Monday and feels real dangerous come Saturday. You took one look at me and saw me as a genuine one-percenter. Am I right? People see me on the road. Some of them won’t look at me, for fear I’ll look back. Some of them want to be me, but they’re not willing to make the sacrifice. Some of them wave. It’s almost like a salute, a mark of respect. When they wave at me, I’ll wave back. No, not to the metrics or any of the shiny crotch rockets that only come out on perfect days. Not to the latte-sippers on scooters. Certainly not to the people in Hummers or convertibles or whatever other four-wheeled creature they think makes them feel free. But, to somebody on a respectable bike, I will return the gesture, just a couple of fingers aimed at the center line. But always to someone who waves at me first.

She’d wave, though. She’d wave at anybody. Hand up above her shoulder, she looked like one of those Chinese toy cats that waves and waves.  Nobody had to wave at me first, because she’d start it up when they first came into sight. People in minivans, on bicycles, jogging. It didn’t matter.

I have a reputation to maintain, and somehow the image of the Prom Queen on a parade float didn’t help. After she waved at some zit-face kid in a Prius, I had to take a stand. There’s a rest area on I-70, out by Concordia. That’s where I left her.

Now what’s that look for? Are you worried about her?

And besides, if she still rode with me, you wouldn’t be. There’s plenty of room up there on the shoulder for your name. Now pull my shirt on down. There’s time for that later. Are we riding or not?

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Friday Fineness Funny

We have yet another example of excellent writing advice available online. Knowing YOU to be a person who wants excellence and writing and … uh… writing, I thought I would offer this advice (which is excellent and concerned with writing).

 

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Nitpicking Example

Since I’ve shared this little example with the online classes, it seemed fair to open it up to the whole world here. Now all your questions about commas before “and” will be answered.

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Friday Fatality Funny

I know you guys sometimes get in a hurry while driving, so I thought I’d share this thought-provoking video with you. It might just cause you to examine your behavior behind the wheel…and speed up. (I couldn’t figure out how to embed this one, so you have to go to their page.)

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Putting UP with Definitions

UP

A college friend of mine sent this along today.

This two-letter word in English has more meanings than any other two-letter word, and that word is ‘UP.’ It is listed in the dictionary as an [adv], [prep], [adj], [n] or [v].

It’s easy to understand UP, meaning toward the sky or at the top of the list, but when we awaken in the morning, why do we wake UP?

At a meeting, why does a topic come UP? Why do we speak UP, and why are the officers UP for election and why is it UP to the secretary to write UP a report? We call UP our friends, brighten UP a room, polish UP the silver, warm UP the leftovers and clean UP the kitchen. We lock UP the house and fix UP the old car.

At other times, this little word has real special meaning. People stir UP trouble, line UP for tickets, work UP an appetite and think UP excuses.

To be dressed is one thing but to be dressed UP is special.

And this UP is confusing: A drain must be opened UP because it is stopped UP.

We open UP a store in the morning but we close it UP at night. We seem to be pretty mixed UP about UP!

To be knowledgeable about the proper uses of UP, look UP the word UP in the dictionary. In a desk-sized dictionary, it takes UP almost 1/4 of the page and can add UP to about thirty definitions.

If you are UP to it, you might try building UP a list of the many ways UP is used. It will take UP a lot of your time, but if you don’t give UP, you may wind UP with a hundred or more.

When it threatens to rain, we say it is clouding UP. When the sun comes out, we say it is clearing UP. When it rains, it soaks UP the earth. When it does not rain for awhile, things dry UP. One could go on and on, but I’ll wrap it UP, for now . . . my time is UP !

Did this one crack you UP?

Don’t screw UP. Send this on to everyone you look UP in your address book . . . or not . . . it’s UP to you.

Now I’ll shut UP!

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Peer-Reviewed Peril

I know you’ve been told to rely on the best sources, the peer reviewed journal articles. Then I read material suggesting that many scientific journal articles, which record experimental results, cannot have their results reproduced in independent labs.

The unspoken rule is that at least 50% of the studies published even in top tier academic journals – Science, Nature, Cell, PNAS, etc… – can’t be repeated with the same conclusions by an industrial lab. In particular, key animal models often don’t reproduce.  This 50% failure rate isn’t a data free assertion: it’s backed up by dozens of experienced R&D professionals who’ve participated in the (re)testing of academic findings.

Bias and error, it seems, can be found anywhere–even in the peer-reviewed ranks. What can the diligent student do beyond despair? If anything, this assertion should emphasize how important it is to bolster your research-based writing with the widest possible selection of sources.

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Friday Fail Fun

Have you ever had one of those days? One of the things that I love to hate is those ridiculous TV ads featuring the clumsiest people in the world demonstrating the need for something that we never knew we needed. For example, there might be a person in the ad plunging their hands into boiling water and howling as their hands turn into fields of blistered third-degree burns. Don’t you hate it when that happens? If so, you need to buy the Spaghetti Scooper. It’ll help you get the pasta out of your pot without sacrificing your skin to the goddess of steam. Here’s an entire collection of such scenes. Please don’t blame me if you max out your credit card after watching.

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