This article about public (private?) children’s educational structures really rang a bell

Superficially, this article is about “why nerds are unpopular”, but it also deals with the endemic structural problems with educational institutions in general. Which I tend to agree with. I thought junior and high school was a prison then and I think so now. The high school kids that I see on the public transit in the morning don’t seem particularly happy to be going there. They don’t seem like monsters either.

It makes sense: a theory about WHY the war with Iraq.

I don’t know who this person is, or even if they’re correct about the strengthening Euro versus the weakening dollar being a primary cause for war.

Sadly, I tend to believe that most geopolitical craziness in the world boils down to a simple: where is the money going? It seems like a good beginning place, anyway.

ah…. those evangelicals….

To sum up: people don’t like it when they’re treated like projects; when they feel like every interaction is a calculated maneuver.

I’ve been inside the house, so to speak. I’ve seen it first hand (as in the first person) and been witness to the social awkwardness caused. Did I learn this the hard way? Perhaps, so. But only partially. Like me mom said from time to time: “You catch more flies with honey than you do with vinegar.”

Try to imagine the kind of person who would use vinegar to catch flies… And why would you even want to? With honey, the catching isn’t the thing. You can’t KEEP THEM AWAY. I don’t know what I’m trying to say here, though. So I’ll just stop.

halfpikes and rumplytods

trust the mechanicals to make a box of it,
eluding contrary brown fields of rice
all the hunting dogs ride down
dying long sheets of paper bright red
juggling clamshells with a beggar’s ease
in spite of, though instead of
all the fumbling gasps at heaven
pete’s left his keys at the gate again
there’ll be no fetching the rollyball now
all the giant’s raging, storms
and beaching whales brigade

fiddle-dee-dee

bash the crankshaft open with your hammer
we’ll never get these melons to market
broke down on the shores of Monteczuma
shoals of goats–yikes!–wave in herds
further, the bardo’s long face just strums,
his mouthwhistle longing for the old ‘stache