A job I do not want...and more.

Ran across this article at boingboing.net...

In his most recent Scientific American column, Jesse Bering writes about psychology research experiments from the 70s that could have been harmful to the researchers because they made unwitting subjects uncomfortable.

One very brave investigator set up shop in the toilet stall of a busy university restroom with a stopwatch and a periscope and used the latter to observe men at the urinals. “This provided a view,” the authors explained in the 1976 paper, “of the user's lower torso and made possible direct visual sightings of the stream of urine.”

If you processed that last sentence, you’re probably asking yourself why anyone would want such a good view of a stranger’s micturating penis. In fact, the researchers were trying to gain a better understanding of paruresis, otherwise known as “shy bladder syndrome” (or “pee-shy,” “bashful bladder” and a variety of other monikers). In extreme cases, someone with a shy bladder cannot urinate in public facilities such as airports, restaurants, or their place of employment. The idea behind this study was that invasion of personal space underlies paruresis—the closer another person is in proximity, the more trouble the pee-shy individual will have urinating. The restroom was therefore rigged so that, in addition to the observer in the toilet stall, another research assistant (called a “confederate” in social psychological parlance) stationed himself either at the urinal next to the unwitting participant or used the urinal farthest away from the participant.

OK, a minor, amusing post...maybe. To go with the post, I went agoogling for a photo. And guess what I found...take a look below:

Supposedly, this thing moves it's mouth up and down. I have enough difficulty not peeing on my foot as it is!

and...
The Georgia O'Keefe model?


OUCH!


In your dreams...maybe.

Om Pah Pah, Om Pah Pah



And lastly...because I found so many of these, I could have spent the entire afternoon posting them. You want to see more, google, urinals. From Victorian Britain, we have:

Way, way, way wrong...

me, that is...and my memory. In my last post I erroneously attributed a song of Carole King's to Rita Coolidge. The song is titled, "Smackwater Jack", and the lyric that stuck in my mind is, "You can't talk to a man with a shotgun in his hand"...a truism if there ever was one.

I love that song...particularly given the things I had recently experienced a couple of years prior to it's release. But my fart blossomed older guy brain totally mis-remembered it

Just know, I had seen the man with a shotgun in his hand.

That's all I want to say about that, and don't ask for details at 11.

Here's the song...oh, and isn't Youtube wonderful? It can jar your very essence, if you are seeking the truth.

Rita Coolidge

The tragedy going on in Gaza right now puts me in mind of a 1970's(?) Rita Coolidge song (well, this fizzled memory is recalling Rita...be kind.) The song, "You Can't Talk to a Man With a Shotgun in His Hand"...substitute shotgun with, Uzi. But, there are other forms of expression...as we all know.

ADDENDUM:

Yep, wrong attribution...see my next post.

At This Moment

7:14 p.m. CST. At this moment I am sitting here on the great American Plains watching the George give his farewell...what...speech...to the troops? I was sort of hoping he'd just come on and say, "that's all folks", or, "arevadirty, mofos...you don't have George W. Bush to kick around any more." But it is the same old canned heat. Channel change.

ADDENDUM:

Oh, did anyone else notice how blood shot his eyes were? Drunk? Bawling? Poking his eyes out?

Delirious From Nebraska

I don't want to be left out here (in the cold as it were...ha ha ha) as being the only blog not talking about the cold weather. It's ferking cold.
And I warn you, I am delirious because of it. There.

It was -10F when I took my oldest daughter to school at 7:30 this morning...it has now warmed up to a balmy 6 degrees at noon. At least the wind has died down from yesterday...we were having gusts up to 45 mph...coupled with 10 degree temp, that will pucker any aperture you have...including...well...

I truly can't find anything amusing about it. It is a crying situation. For example, when you're standing there pumping gas, because your car is on empty, and you have no choice but to pump, and the wind is blowing right up your sorry-ass, thin corduroy pants, which roast your skinny little legs in July...and you're there pumping because many years ago America gave up FULL SERVICE gas stations...which not only included pumping the gas, but checking the tire pressure, and cleaning the windshield, and making sure your car wasn't a quart low...even in -10 degree weather...your mind zeros in on one word...and you cry...bastards!

You better believe, it's always somebody else's fault. Cold hearted bastards!

#6 Escapes

One of my favorite TV shows of old was The Prisoner, starring Patrick MacGoohan. He passed away today in L.A.

The show itself, co-conceived by McGoohan, was a cerebral exercise...as opposed to the T.V. crap that's turned out today.

Below is the intro to each episode, which pretty much explains the premise:

Great Minds...or How Surprised Am I?

On occasion, I get ambitious and submit cartoons here and there and about. I've had limited success with that, but I still do it, more as therapy...and hell, I just can't stop drawing...even silly stuff. Believe me, I have a drawer full of rejection slips.

When I first started blogging over at Journal Space, my original intent was to post drawings, paintings and cartoons that have collected in my dusty life. One day I stumbled across something humorous on the web (I don't remember what it was...a news article, I think) and posted it to my blog. At that point, the blog became something else...something verbal. And the visual me, here, went away.

Below is one of my first JS postings back in ought five (my grandfather used that term, ought, ((or is it aught?)) for the number zero...just thought I'd throw that in.) I do remember this was a cartoon I had submitted to the New Yorker 12 or 15 years ago. It was promptly sent back haste post...or, maybe even hate post...I dunno.

Right below my cartoon is one by Bizarro, posted by MickH on his blog, SoapBox Opera

What are the chances that Bizarro saw my blog? Not very good. So I think it is a case of great minds in the ether of insanity, blowing about, and landing in chance places. Huh? Here they are:

My Two Cents Worth

I went over this morning to check out the "new" Journal Space site. It's a bit bare, but ok. Without creating a new blog, I signed up. Really, I wanted to see how things went before making a decision about going back. The truth is, I had mostly decided to stay here, but thought I'd just go see.

After signing in I saw a discussion group for former JSers. I clicked on sign up for the group and began scrolling to see who was there. I got to the last page, where my name and my roaches are and then the shocker...my ferking real name was on the screen beside the roaches...not my screen name...my REAL LIFE, ACTUAL, GIVEN MOFO NAME! WTF? This truly pissed me off. One other person had made that same observation...they wanted to know why their real name was up there. This was not a case of typing in my real name in the screen name space...this was a JS fuck up. Of course there was NO WHERE on the site to get help on this issue. So...I deleted my account.

No big deal maybe...but then on the other hand it is.

First, I never...never...give out my real name on blog sites. It is a bad policy and if you do it, you are crazy. The reason is, doing so identifies not only you, but your family. Nobody, but nobody needs to know who I am, thereby being given a means to trace my family.

Second, it is very easy to piss off people on the internet and there are some loony tune types trolling out here. Paranoid? Yep.

Third, this issue is probably indicative of how that site is going to be run...I am not impressed thus far with their programming skills...not to mention obvious bad translations of whatever their language is, to English. If it's not a case of bad translation, then it's a case of bad grammar.

Ok, so they are new...so give 'em a break. My answer to that is...they have jumped the gun before they were ready and I don't see a reason at this point to go back.

Getting a blog up and running and tweaked is a lot of work, as you all know. I'm tweaked here...Blogspot displays ONLY my screen name when I'm here...every time...and best of all it's ferking FREE.

JS, sorry, you are a fond memory...gone with da wind methinks.

ADDENDUM:
After reading several blogs and comments related to this, I want to add one thing (MY Opinion, mind you). One thing I didn't say above is...if one is going to assume a business (and JS is a business...no matter what else it pretends to be), one ought to be ready to open the doors, full service...when one opens the doors. See what I mean? I am not interested in a half-ass, "well, golly gee, things are gonna get better," effort. Either be ready to roll, or don't open the doors. Blogspace ain't going nowhere, to use the venacular...and no matter how much we loved her, the old gray mare ain't what she used to be.

Miracle

Yes, well I ran into this on boingboing.net today. You are supposed to stand back a bit from your computer screen and you will see something in the dog's snout...possibly...evil? Darth Vader? Bin Laden? George Bush?

I don't know, if I see any thing, it's the virgin Mary, or the non-virgin...Madonna. Maybe they should put the dog up for auction on eBay.

How about you...what do you see?

Does anyone really give a doggy do?

News Flash for JSers

I don't know if all of you realize that Journal Space has been up for sale on eBay this past week. Well, today it got sold. eBay has a policy of not revealing the name of buyers who purchase through their site. However, my wife, who is a eBayer from way back, checked with her secret sources and with a minimum of bribes, found out the name of the JS buyer. This is highly confidential and I only request that you not reveal this to non-ex-JSers.

It would seem that the buyer is none other than George W. Bush, himself. The rumor is that the soon to be ex-president really has nothing to do after January 20th, except a few brief notes for the Bush Museum regarding his accomplishments as POTUS. Laura Bush has been quoted as calling this soon to be period their, "afterlife". It is felt this would give him a venue where he can apply all of his executive experience from the White House Years for the benefit of all bloggerdom. It is also thought that this purchase will keep him out of Laura's hair...thereby also keeping his "afterlife" period from becoming his "afterwife" period.

I am sure this is good news...for those of you who want to return to good ol' JS.

George is seen above practicing his speed typing on a friend's computer.

I for one, ain't goin' nowhere.