Author: docthink

no one of consequence

Blinded Me By Science

I hate science fair.

I used to think that I liked it. That was when we were at a school that didn’t have one.

I used to think that Science Fair was to learn about science, do something with your hands and brain, and then learn to communicate about your findings. Be creative. Have fun. We didn’t do science fair at my school. I thought it would be great.

Wrong! Wrong! Wrong!

First, science projects are lame. My favorite science was chemistry. Blowing things up. Burning chemicals. Seeing the colors. Smelling the esters. Building a distilling apparatus and having some powdery substance at the end. Or, even better, separating liquids. Connecting the Lewis Dot Structures. It was a wonderful, hands-on thing.

But you look for science fair projects and they are in two categories–boring biology projects or building things.

The first is–well–boring. Growing plants. Growing germs. Growing plankton. Nothing blows up. Great for little kids.

The second has a huge cool potential. Except that if you are building something–like a circuit–you might actually learn something. And that is NOT the purpose of a science fair project.

A successful science fair project has four main ingredients.

  1. A graph. You need to measure something so you can graph it. You can’t measure something you build.
  2. A hypothesis. You need to work the Scientific Method. This is the Holy Grail of science fair. #1 is directly related.
  3. A teacher. The teacher has to be of no help, patronizing, mean, and anti-intellectual.
  4. Much yelling. There are absolutely NO good science fair projects. There are no projects of any interest whatsoever to the kid. No matter how you try to sell it.

So after not picking a project, complaining about the lack of support from #3, and refusing to do work. And after going around and around through crummy web sites with science projects perfect for 7-9 year olds when we need an high school honors level project AND a middle school project. And after going through all the ideas with potential and recognizing time and again there was nothing to frickin’ MEASURE, the science fair projects have been selected.

The abstracts have been written. The high-level procedures have been done. Some of the materials have been ordered. After all the shock and awe to get this far, it seems like we should be done.

But then you look at building the experiment, trying to control the insurgent students (aka the 15-year old and the 12-year old) who at times seem intent on sabotaging their own best interests, and a look at the additional resources–time, brain, and materials–required for success, I almost feel like pulling out now. But no, I need to be fully committed to see these projects through their bitter ends.

Maybe I should shut up. At least our experiments have a good chance of success–it could be worse.

See related Science Un-Fair.

(c) 2005-2016 Doctor of Thinkology. Some rights reserved under Creative Commons License.
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BeanTown Keystone

It’s not so scary. That lite-brite image with the raised middle finger under the overpass.

Wasn’t so scary in New York where 41 of them caused no stir. Philly removed 56 without fanfare. Not so scary for the past few weeks in Los Angeles, Chicago, Atlanta, Seattle, Austin, San Francisco, and Philadelphia, according to Cartoon Network. And Portland police said they are leaving them up as long as they aren’t on municipal property. No investigation either, since they don’t see a crime being committed.

But somebody on Wednesday saw the lite-brite from a bus in Boston and reported it as a “suspicious” object. Makes sense. They saw something ductaped to a bridge and were concerned. Then the Boston police came in. And made such a ruckus. Blew some of the signs up. Closed roads and the Charles River. All because nobody in the investigation watches Adult Swim on Cartoon Network. If there was a twenty-something cop, they might have recognized the Mooninites. Try Flickr for some images, even images of the actual signs like this one from San Francisco uploaded Jan. 13.

But rather than admit that they went spaz, Boston and Mass. authorities are now trying to blame the two hapless local guys that were hired by some marketing firm to place the lite-brite promos.

The 15-year-old was a bit disturbed.

“I don’t think that I like that they got so worked up.”

He’s right. It wasn’t a terror threat. It was a marketing ploy. And it wasn’t a problem except that someone didn’t put the breaks on the frenzy–or didn’t take a step back to investigate the image. Don’t blame the slacker-type guys making a buck for the Boston over-reaction. Let them go! My advice to Beantown, back down quick and as quiet as you can.

Here’s the funniest part. The locals want to charge Turner Broadcast–parent of Cartoon Network–for the investigation. Given all the free word-of-mouth advertising, I think it’s a much better value than a Super Bowl ad. Going rate for one of those? $2.6 million for 30 seconds. Cost of the Boston police frenzy, more like $500K.

(c) 2005-2016 Doctor of Thinkology. Some rights reserved under Creative Commons License.
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Under International Scrutiny

According to China View–or Xinhua.net–The Hindu, and news websites world wide, Americans want the Bush presidency to be OVER. So now everybody in the world knows.

Enough! No mas! We say, “Uncle!”

But darn it, we got 721 days, 13 hours and counting, until the new guy* comes in.

So, it doesn’t matter if the people are sick of the administration. It doesn’t matter if a bit more than two-thirds think that the president disregards facts when making decisions. It doesn’t matter if 7 out of 10 Americans disapprove of the job President Bush is doing.

And the whole world can see that we–in this great democracy of ours–need to figure out within our laws how to make this president respond to the will of the people.

And it’s hard work. The president and his henchmen continue to spew their dream state point-of-view. We will march; we will protest; we will write letters to the editor, and to Congress. All the while, Congress is trying to figure out how to move this intransigent President away from bad policy and still support the troops we have asked to fight this war.

And as I write this, I find myself getting all patriotic. Standing up on a soapbox and saying,

“Look World! This is how we disagree in a democracy. It isn’t instant. It doesn’t happen in a coup. It happens according to the rule of law, the rule of our constitution.” And THAT’s how we do it downtown.

* “Guy” like in a generic, genderless sense.

(c) 2005-2016 Doctor of Thinkology. Some rights reserved under Creative Commons License.
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Family Affair

That “great” expert, Liz Cheney (aka daughter of the VP), is sniping at Hillary in the Post today. I will wait a second while you read it.

Liz, like her dad, uses redirection and name calling to make her point–that anyone who disagrees with the White House Iraq policy is spineless, chicken, misinformed, cowardly, anti-patriotic, and wants to support terrorists on our shores. Whatever!

[Aside: I am tired of supporting the Cheney family. Liz is “former principal deputy assistant secretary of state for Near Eastern affairs,” and has been at the high-end of the political appointee trough since 2000–with time out for the 2004 campaign and to birth her fifth child. Add up hers and the top federal salary of her husband, #5 at Homeland Security, and we can see how a doting grandmother can keep her five grandchildren close to her in financial security. They had to pull in at least $300K.]

And for all that experience and know-how, we get the regurgitation of the worst, least sophisticated “stay the course and WIN!” arguments.

But why Liz? Why now?

Looks like the Republicans are terrified of Hillary Clinton. A few short days after Hillary throws her hat into the presidential ring, the Republicans trot out a working mother to tell us how awful it would be to have the Senator-mother as the President-mother. Hillary’s favorable numbers were especially good with women. The Clinton campaign must be crowing since they got this early, full-frontal attack.

But back to the issue at hand. Liz, I know you didn’t write the “op-ed,” but let me pose a question. Despite the lack of military service in your family, would you encourage your two sons to fight in Iraq when they grow up? C’mon Liz, break the mold. Be authentic.

(c) 2005-2016 Doctor of Thinkology. Some rights reserved under Creative Commons License.
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Forgotten Fruits

It’s like prison. They insist on eating 3-squares every day. If they miss a meal, it’s a civil rights abuse. So to keep child protective services away, I need to go to the grocery store.

B-K (not burger king, but before kids), we could go to the grocery store every three-four weeks. Once the kids came along, I got a frequent flier card to the Giant and Safeway–2-3 times a week is now the norm. (Living in the city makes the Cotsco and Shoppers’ way too inconvenient.)

So I am at the Giant, and they have Breyers’ ice cream on sale. Including my mostest ever favoritest flavor, Peach Ice cream. But I can’t eat 1/2 gallon of it. Damn! That’s too much of a great thing–my lust for which I blame le Dog.

Yup, when I used to work at the overpriced arcade in Ann Arbor, barely down the block, on Liberty Street was le Dog. A shack that sold hot dogs, and incredibly sophisticated soups and a shake of the day.

Some weeks, he would serve the most amazing peach shake ever. I didn’t want to have one. I like chocolate shakes. And I don’t like peaches. But he convinced me to try one and it was the best. I was broke, and couldn’t afford gourmet shakes, but Mr. le Dog liked to play video games so I could trade game tokens for the most incredible peach milk shakes. Ever.

This was the beginnings of the trail that led to the frusen gladje strawberry ice cream. And my love of Gifford‘s banana ice cream.

I usually buy variants of vanilla or chocolate with junk in it. But the fruit ice cream is really where it’s at. Like that peaches and cream pint that I just put away that took me back across the street from the Michigan Theatre on Liberty Street.

(c) 2005-2016 Doctor of Thinkology. Some rights reserved under Creative Commons License.
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Too Much Coffee

I was washing the post-dinner dishes. It was unusual in that I did it after dinner, rather than in the morning. I know, I know. You all can’t stand dishes in the sink overnight. I can see your point, but I can’t stand to stand over the sink after getting dinner on the table.

The spouse is out of town. For like 2o days. So, for me it’s an exercise in single-parenting. It’s times like this when my respect for my friends and colleagues who do it alone runneth over.

[“What?” you child-free readers say. “Doc, your kids are big. So don’t be a whiner.” Yes, they are big, and have bigger responsibilities. More practices, more homework, and the commensurate amount of more yelling–oops, did say that?]

So after a gourmet meal out of the blue box punctuated by some darn good peas (flash frozen, not canned), I turned to the dishes. It shouldn’t surprise you that there were still dishes from breakfast.

My last task was to wash out the coffee pot. I was surprised to spill out a bunch of leftover coffee. Hunh. I made enough coffee for two this morning. But there was only me to drink it.

(c) 2005-2016 Doctor of Thinkology. Some rights reserved under Creative Commons License.
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Bullied About

I am very sorry to have to admit this. I am chastened and embarrassed to say it. I am confused and somewhat annoyed with myself, too.

I just don’t get it.

I came home to see the 15-year-old beating the brains out of someone with a baseball bat. All in the name of good, clean fun.

That is good, teen (T) fun–at least according to Boys’ Life and reviewers from Amazon and Wired. He was playing Bully.

So somehow, I just missed the idea that a game is not over the top, and is somehow redeemed because the violence is bloodless. Brains are not smeared on the sidewalk, so it’s okay. See, I just don’t get it.

I am watching the kids (my kids) pulverizing someone. And they are laughing. They are excited. They are egging each other on. Telling the 15-year old to have his character–named Jimmy–take another swing at the boy lying on the sidewalk with his hands in front of his face trying to protect himself. I, alone, am cringing. See, I’m not getting it, still.

It’s supposed to be good because “Jimmy” helps kids being bullied. By using extreme violence. And the game is good because it doesn’t reward Jimmy for bullying. See, if he beats up his bad-guy classmates he earns new ways to beat up the bad-guy classmates. This is, not considered extreme violence because his main weapons are his fists and an occasional trash can lid. No guns, knives or blood. See, I can’t tell the difference between extreme and not so extreme. Still not getting it.

I interrupted the beating. “Hey, I thought that this game wasn’t supposed to reward violence.” The kids turned around and sheepishly smiled, then returned to the melee. I had to walk away. Not getting it.

“Doc!” you say. “Why were you surprised that a game with a name of Bully brought to you by the same folks who made car-jacking and killing cops into gameplay would be a bit violent? What were you thinking??”

One good thing happened, though. The kids misplaced the game. Get it?

(c) 2005-2016 Doctor of Thinkology. Some rights reserved under Creative Commons License.
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That 70’s Feeling

Nostalgia for me meant the old people (parents of my friends, for example) who waxed about poodle skirts and hot rods. Our jr. high school had sock hops. Truman and Eisenhower were about as relevant to us as Garfield and Arthur–and not the cat or aardvark.

I found myself feeling a bit of the yearn for the kinder, gentler time of the 38th President, Gerald R. Ford (1913-2006). We went to the Capitol Rotunda to pay our respects. Me, the 12-year-old, and the 15-year-old.

12-year old: Why are we standing in this line?
Me: To pay our respects.
12-year old: Why?

I was stuck. Was it because he is a Michigan man? I ended up being weepy when we lost Bo, too. Was it because I remember him from my childhood, and he wasn’t Richard Nixon? Was it because he was an object of the original Not Ready for Prime Time Players humor? Or the way that his brave wife made rehab into the modern penance for the rich and (in)famous? Or maybe because he shares my fondness for big yellow dogs?

Am I nostalgic for the time when there were such things as pro-choice, non-spinning republicans that oversaw the dismantling of a bad war? For a leader who used compromise as an agreement builder and integrity for his talisman? But was I making that up? I don’t remember the 70’s being as much fun as the show.

So as we snaked through the House side of the Capitol, and as we were rushed through the Rotunda and were denied a pause before the awesome statue of Sacajawea, I told the 12-year-old “All of the above.”

And he looked at me like it was 1976, and there were bell bottoms and Gran Torinos.

(c) 2005-2016 Doctor of Thinkology. Some rights reserved under Creative Commons License.
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Rules Rule the Season

I sit here furiously typing (okay, furiously thinking about what to type. Okay, maybe just a little furious?) because I made up a rule. The rule is at least four thinkings each month. And it’s getting to the end and I have only two. (Three if this actually gets posted.)

I am not a big fan of rules and obligations. We impose rules on ourselves. This four entries a month rule is a rule to impose discipline. I am not so good on that discipline-thing. So I trick myself with rules I make up. I usually break them, but I am not so hard on myself.

And now, here we are, at the time of year of obligations and expectations. There are a bunch of rules that we impose on ourselves. The big thing I heard this year was card trouble. “I need to get my cards done….I am so late this year….I haven’t ever been THIS late….Do you think it’s okay if they get there like the day after Christmas?”

But there is also the expectation that others have about the cards. You know, staying on the list. Reciprocating. Keeping in touch.

The 15-year-old is saving up for a new phone. He has become the evil superhero Phone-Destroyer. He’s been through 3 so far this year. I said the next one was on his dime.

He had enough for a non-cool phone. The cool phone was in reach with after a few weeks of significant yard work.

I learned yesterday that he was back in the hole. Turns out that he was sneaking off to the mall after school to use his money to buy Christmas gifts for us. For us!?! I don’t know how we raised a kid with his generosity and kindness. Yet somehow he assimilated these excellent qualities–maybe applied as rules.

Merry Christmas!

(c) 2005-2016 Doctor of Thinkology. Some rights reserved under Creative Commons License.
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Paint Department

The 15-year-old was in the kitchen, and we were putting away the groceries. Okay, I was putting away the groceries and he was talking.

Him: Today at school we were like we were the Home Depot paint department.
Me: Hunh?
Him: Well we were at our table at lunch and we realized that we were all lined up by color. The lightest to the darkest.

Me: [still confused]
Him: Well, Jay was out of order. So, we said that he needed to be restocked. And put in the right place.

Me: Oh. Well, where were you?
Him: It’s like a color circle. From the lightest to the darkest but all not in a line but in a circle, from me to Avery.

What is wrong with other folk? It’s a circle, dammit. Everyone is connected.

(c) 2005-2016 Doctor of Thinkology. Some rights reserved under Creative Commons License.
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