Silly Season

New Hampshire primary tomorrow. I am getting a massive amount of texts telling me who I should vote for. I find that annoying. From what I understand the Democrats are buying ads for some of the Republicans. Who you going to belive? Wife and I are going to try and vote for moderates. Hard to belive what you read these days.


Yes I am Sixteen

When people get old they sometimes wonder what happened. Facebook is filled with posts like that. That is their problem. Of the course of the years it has become apperant that not everone acts their age. Age is really a mental thing. A child can exhibit extreme maturity. An old person can act completely immature. We do not always act our age.

Me, I am just a sixteen year old hiding in an old body that has the wisdom of the years. This is a conscious decision. There are a number of reasons for this. I work with college students, I look up to, and respect them. My mental age reflects that. Also I am quite inquisitive, the years have not yet jaded me. Very importantly I have just learned to drive, the world is now capable of being explored.

Mentally I am learning, though I am old enough to realize that education has failed. At sixteen I knew the media did not present a realistic view of the world. Though I could not really know who was lying. At sixteen I was young enough that I could still dream, I had not yet been ground down by reality. At sixteen I had just begun to work. The future was bright, I was not yet disappointed with life.

So many of the people my age live in the past, they cannot let go of their past. It is rather sad.

There is another reason I picked sixteen, oh sweet sixteen. I had seen a UFO when I was 16. I was in Boy Scouts troop meeting, the scout master came in and said there was a UFO outside. Naturally inquisitive I went outside to look. In the air there were two silent luminous green rectangles. Perfectly aligned with each other they swooped through the sky. I thought what goes up must come down, so I waited. It did not come down, it began to travel to the east. I had a little red convertible, so I jumped in and gave chase. With the top down I could look up and see it fly through the sky. Surprisingly I was able to keep up with it. Yet I was beginning to think that it was going to go out over the water. There was a really large building on the water where the would build some of the American Cup yachts. There was a way to drive up onto the roof that was not always closed off. I thought I would take a chance and see if I could drive to the top of the building.

I made it to the top of the building and had a great view of the sky, and what was below. Above the craft went across the sky and over the sound towards the island. Below a number of police cars drove towards the shore.

There are a lot of things we do not know, and cannot explain. Yet if I were to guess an explanation it was me from the future coming to check on my past to see if I was real. I would be able prove my own existence by say if I dance above this building long enough a boy would come out and jump into a small red convertible and give chase. The boy would then go to the big building where he could see all. He would then stand next to his car and stare in awe.

I would have proved my own existence whilst swooping about the sky, and time. Life is but a dream.

Triggered By a Pencil

It is not very often that I am offended by something, Yet the other day I was offended by a slim yellow utensil, a pencil. It’s mere presence was offensive to me. We live in a digital world. I have written hundreds of little bundles of bubbles by simply tapping my fingers. When I actually scribe letters and numbers, I use a stylus on a screen. Yet in front of me in an institution of higher learning was a container filled with yellow number two pencils.

50 years ago yellow pencils were quite common. Most of them had the Indian logo on them. I was told the pencils were manufactured by Indians of the native type. I thought that manufacturing pencils would not be very lucrative, and I probably was right. It did not take long before the Indians got into the casino business. I imagine that was far more lucrative. Probably a good thing they got out of the pencil business when they did, nobody uses pencils any more. Except for schools, they live in the past. The only place students students use pencils is in class. I have to say those that teach, live in the past. I see students are quite proficient in Google documents. I really wonder if using Google documents would be better than a pencil and paper test.

I did not enjoy my schooling. There has to be a better way. I like to say “use the proper tool for the job”. These days is the pencil the right tool for the job, or simply a usless artifact from my past. How necessary is calligraphy in the days of computer generated fonts. What would handwriting analysis provide today, a need for change? If we want to be relevant in today’s society, we need to be relevant in contemporary communications. For me, pencils are just not it.

It is not very often that I find something disturbing. So I started asking people about their opinions on pencils. My first finding was artists still use them. I can understand that. Yet I was recently drawn to an image created by AI that won an art competition. I downloaded the original resolution and spent some time studying it. I was fascinated. We are in a digital transformation. Still I had many people tell me pencils are necessary. In my view they are struggling to hang on to the past.

When I was young I rember Indian pencils. Supposedly they were made by Native American Indians. A Google search showed some Blackfeet Indian pencils, but I don’t think that is what I was thinking of. Anyway Indians went on to operate casinos, much more lucrative than making pencils.

Just a final thought before I get carried away. If you go to teach someone to drive a car, do you make them ride a horse first?