mboost-dp1
Forunderlige historier.
In the grand scheme of things there are the brilliant, whom through almost sheer force of will can wrench from the quicksilver vibrations of imagination something solid , transfixing this squirming wonder into realms not of ether but of lips, hips and fingertips Something to make the eyes linger, the mind insatiable, and the palms itch.
And then there are those whom, in Homer-esque fashion, fumble fickle fingered with the minds delights producing the artistic or functional equivilent of an sty of electrocuted pigs.
ZZZ is about both of these types of people. Take for example a fellow by the name of Harlan. Harlan has the unfortunate dispostion of resembling the physical embodiment of Homer Simpson, but has the even more unfortunate ability to grab a fist full of quicksilver pickles whilst not being able to quite figure out how to remove said full fist from the narrow mouth of the pickle jar.
You see Harlan can fleetingly tap those places where ideas stalk the heavens like furious scurrying bolts of lightning , but cannot seem to maintain the grip necessary to sculpt the slippery electric devils into the the art of everyday life.
For our purposes his story starts on a pig farm.
Pigs, as you well know, love the mud. Not because they are filthy creatures as is often thought, but because pigs lack the ability to 'properly' regulate their temperature (On a hot day if you couldn't sweat I bet you'd find a roll in the mud pretty fantastic too, especially if you happened to be buck naked with members of the opposite sex, but I digress). Harlan decided that he had a better way of keeping the pigs cool, watered and luxuriating in mud by using an invention he himself devised and built.
While the idea may have been quite ingenius, the implimentation suffered from Harlan's almost total lack of any electrical skills or knowledge (not that he ever tried to cure himself , or was even aware of this knowledge deficit). The result was something that worked initially but due to very amateur wiring shorted out very quickly, and given the nature of water, mud, electricty, and pigs, produced a rather impromptu, but large and totally complete, though not quite George Foreman, electric pork cook out.
After managing to electrocute all of his own pigs (and hence remove himself from the pig farming business) Harlan considered his mistakes and thought he had put his finger on the nature of the problem. He convinced one of his neighbors that he had done just such a thing and was given permission to try his electric automatic pig-mud creator invention on said neighbors pig sty. The result, as you might have guessed: another day(well night actually)of total electric holocaust in the big book of of fried pig history.
Undaunted (but no longer allowed anywhere near pigs or electricity) Harlan couldn't curtale his creative impulses (or at least hook them to investigative or educational ones) and so got to thinking of a plan to make money off his now , quite pigless and very empty land .
The new plan involved a local Rainbow Bread baking facility and some rather nebulous thoughts about fertilization and goat feed. They link together like this: The Rainbow Bread place, for reasons presumably known only to the mass bread making and marketing gods, produces more bread dough than they actually cook. A lot more. Trucks full in fact that have to be taken away and dumped at no small expense of time or money to the said bread dough makers. The intitiation of Harlan's new plan was to get certain drivers to divert the raw dough dumping from the intented spot and re-route it to his farm. A farm now populated by goats. Now goats when they 'graze' eat everything pulling up grass roots and all and thus leave a swath of barren earth in their wake, so a (single) grazing pasture for goats = non-(easily, quickly, or cheaply) renewable resource.
Harlan's idea was to spread the dough out to kind of act as a mulch/fertilizer for the soil (hopefully to help speed new grazing growth) while at the same time being a feed for the goats (hence relieving him of the onerous task of having to buy feed or find a place for them to graze) .
Unfortunately the dough proved much too hard to spread and so Harlan decide just to let the goats eat it 'off the pile'. 'The pile' had in a very short time grown to about 15x15x6 feet (at that point the drivers discretionary senses stopped their illicit diversions of dough). All of which I suppose would be fine if bread dough was not a soft heavy substance that has a tendancy to expand when heated (and left to rot) .
On the plus side the goats loved the rotting dough , on the minus side so did every fly and maggot within about a hundred miles . for the flies it was all party time , but for the goats .... well the goats would try to climb atop the pile (presumably to get to the mythical 'best grazing'). The dough no matter how thick would not support their wieght . So... they would 'wade' in until they didn't have to bend down to eat. This bit of laziness on the goats part got them hip deep and stuck in the rotting dough. That by itself wouldn't be so bad, but the goats generally liked to do this early in the morning. "Why?" you ask, well because the dough would have a tendency to rise (making it harder to climb/wade into ) as the day warmed. Now if you are clever you might have already have deduced a slight engineering problem, i.e. what happens to creatures stuck up to their snouts in a amorphous mass that has a tendancy to expand after they get trapped in it?
If you said suffocate as an answer you win the prize. Further more if the 'dead goats in dough' were not found very quickly they would be extremely hard to extricate, and the daily dough shifting between gas generation/rot and expansion/contraction would twist them all around unit they resembled an 'farside' style jumbled death posture. Strangely the sight of dead goats all jubmled comically in the dough did not stop the live goats from eating, and dying, in it too.
It is somewhat sad that Harlan cried when all of his goats died ( and he had to call on local farmers to help erradicte the dough induced squirrel over-population (which probably numbered in the thousands - who knew squirrels loved dead goats in dough )) , but on the plus side he gave up inventing and instead took up a 'safe' job pouring concrete ...
And then there are those whom, in Homer-esque fashion, fumble fickle fingered with the minds delights producing the artistic or functional equivilent of an sty of electrocuted pigs.
ZZZ is about both of these types of people. Take for example a fellow by the name of Harlan. Harlan has the unfortunate dispostion of resembling the physical embodiment of Homer Simpson, but has the even more unfortunate ability to grab a fist full of quicksilver pickles whilst not being able to quite figure out how to remove said full fist from the narrow mouth of the pickle jar.
You see Harlan can fleetingly tap those places where ideas stalk the heavens like furious scurrying bolts of lightning , but cannot seem to maintain the grip necessary to sculpt the slippery electric devils into the the art of everyday life.
For our purposes his story starts on a pig farm.
Pigs, as you well know, love the mud. Not because they are filthy creatures as is often thought, but because pigs lack the ability to 'properly' regulate their temperature (On a hot day if you couldn't sweat I bet you'd find a roll in the mud pretty fantastic too, especially if you happened to be buck naked with members of the opposite sex, but I digress). Harlan decided that he had a better way of keeping the pigs cool, watered and luxuriating in mud by using an invention he himself devised and built.
While the idea may have been quite ingenius, the implimentation suffered from Harlan's almost total lack of any electrical skills or knowledge (not that he ever tried to cure himself , or was even aware of this knowledge deficit). The result was something that worked initially but due to very amateur wiring shorted out very quickly, and given the nature of water, mud, electricty, and pigs, produced a rather impromptu, but large and totally complete, though not quite George Foreman, electric pork cook out.
After managing to electrocute all of his own pigs (and hence remove himself from the pig farming business) Harlan considered his mistakes and thought he had put his finger on the nature of the problem. He convinced one of his neighbors that he had done just such a thing and was given permission to try his electric automatic pig-mud creator invention on said neighbors pig sty. The result, as you might have guessed: another day(well night actually)of total electric holocaust in the big book of of fried pig history.
Undaunted (but no longer allowed anywhere near pigs or electricity) Harlan couldn't curtale his creative impulses (or at least hook them to investigative or educational ones) and so got to thinking of a plan to make money off his now , quite pigless and very empty land .
The new plan involved a local Rainbow Bread baking facility and some rather nebulous thoughts about fertilization and goat feed. They link together like this: The Rainbow Bread place, for reasons presumably known only to the mass bread making and marketing gods, produces more bread dough than they actually cook. A lot more. Trucks full in fact that have to be taken away and dumped at no small expense of time or money to the said bread dough makers. The intitiation of Harlan's new plan was to get certain drivers to divert the raw dough dumping from the intented spot and re-route it to his farm. A farm now populated by goats. Now goats when they 'graze' eat everything pulling up grass roots and all and thus leave a swath of barren earth in their wake, so a (single) grazing pasture for goats = non-(easily, quickly, or cheaply) renewable resource.
Harlan's idea was to spread the dough out to kind of act as a mulch/fertilizer for the soil (hopefully to help speed new grazing growth) while at the same time being a feed for the goats (hence relieving him of the onerous task of having to buy feed or find a place for them to graze) .
Unfortunately the dough proved much too hard to spread and so Harlan decide just to let the goats eat it 'off the pile'. 'The pile' had in a very short time grown to about 15x15x6 feet (at that point the drivers discretionary senses stopped their illicit diversions of dough). All of which I suppose would be fine if bread dough was not a soft heavy substance that has a tendancy to expand when heated (and left to rot) .
On the plus side the goats loved the rotting dough , on the minus side so did every fly and maggot within about a hundred miles . for the flies it was all party time , but for the goats .... well the goats would try to climb atop the pile (presumably to get to the mythical 'best grazing'). The dough no matter how thick would not support their wieght . So... they would 'wade' in until they didn't have to bend down to eat. This bit of laziness on the goats part got them hip deep and stuck in the rotting dough. That by itself wouldn't be so bad, but the goats generally liked to do this early in the morning. "Why?" you ask, well because the dough would have a tendency to rise (making it harder to climb/wade into ) as the day warmed. Now if you are clever you might have already have deduced a slight engineering problem, i.e. what happens to creatures stuck up to their snouts in a amorphous mass that has a tendancy to expand after they get trapped in it?
If you said suffocate as an answer you win the prize. Further more if the 'dead goats in dough' were not found very quickly they would be extremely hard to extricate, and the daily dough shifting between gas generation/rot and expansion/contraction would twist them all around unit they resembled an 'farside' style jumbled death posture. Strangely the sight of dead goats all jubmled comically in the dough did not stop the live goats from eating, and dying, in it too.
It is somewhat sad that Harlan cried when all of his goats died ( and he had to call on local farmers to help erradicte the dough induced squirrel over-population (which probably numbered in the thousands - who knew squirrels loved dead goats in dough )) , but on the plus side he gave up inventing and instead took up a 'safe' job pouring concrete ...
En professor stod foran sit filosofihold med nogle ting foran sig. Da
timen begyndte, tog han, uden at sige et ord, et meget stort og tomt
syltetøjsglas frem og begyndte at fylde det med golfbolde.Da han havde
gjort det, spurgte han sin klasse om glasset var fyldt.
De var enige om, at det var det.
Så tog professoren en kasse med småsten frem, og begyndte at hælde dem
ned i glasset. Han rystede glasset let, så småstenene fordelte sig
imellem golfboldene. Derefter spurgte han igen holdet om glasset var
fyldt.
Det mente hans klasse nok, at det var.
Herefter to professoren en kasse med sand frem og begyndte at hælde det
op i glasset. Sandet fyldte naturligvis de resterende hulrum i glasset.
Igen spurgte han om det var fyldt.
Klassen svarede enstemmigt "ja".
Derefter lavede professoren to kopper kaffe og hældte dem begge ned i
glasset, hvilket effektivt fyldte de hulrum der var imellem sandkornene.
Studenterne grinede....
"Nuvel" sagde professoren, da latteren var stilnet af. "Hvis I nu
forestiller jer, at dette glas repræsenterer jeres liv.
Golfboldene er de vigtige ting - jeres familie, kærester, børn, helbred,
venner og yndlingspassioner - de ting som selv hvis alle andre ting gik
tabt, og kun disse ting var tilbage, stadig ville gøre jeres liv
fuldendt.
Småstenene er de andre ting, der betyder noget - såsom job, hus, bil
osv..
Sandet er alle de andre småting".
Professoren fortsatte: "Hvis I putter sandet ned i glasset først, er der
Ikke plads til hverken småstenene eller golfboldene. Det samme gælder i
livet. Hvis I bruger al jeres energi og tid på de små ubetydelige ting,
får I aldrig plads til de ting, der er vigtige for jer.
Vær opmærksom på de ting, der er kritiske for jeres lykke. Leg med jeres
børn. Pas på jeres helbred. Inviter jeres partner på middag. Tag endnu
en runde på golfbanen. Der vil altid være tid til at gøre huset rent og
ordne afløbene.
Tag jer af golfboldene først - de ting der virkelig betyder noget. Få
styr på prioriteterne - resten er bare sand."
En af de studerende rakte sin hånd i vejret og spurgtehvad kaffen
repræsenterede.
Professoren smilede; "Jeg er glad for at du spørger. Det er blot for at
vise, at lige meget hvor fyldt dit liv synes at være, så er der altid
plads til et par kopper kaffe sammen med en ven"
timen begyndte, tog han, uden at sige et ord, et meget stort og tomt
syltetøjsglas frem og begyndte at fylde det med golfbolde.Da han havde
gjort det, spurgte han sin klasse om glasset var fyldt.
De var enige om, at det var det.
Så tog professoren en kasse med småsten frem, og begyndte at hælde dem
ned i glasset. Han rystede glasset let, så småstenene fordelte sig
imellem golfboldene. Derefter spurgte han igen holdet om glasset var
fyldt.
Det mente hans klasse nok, at det var.
Herefter to professoren en kasse med sand frem og begyndte at hælde det
op i glasset. Sandet fyldte naturligvis de resterende hulrum i glasset.
Igen spurgte han om det var fyldt.
Klassen svarede enstemmigt "ja".
Derefter lavede professoren to kopper kaffe og hældte dem begge ned i
glasset, hvilket effektivt fyldte de hulrum der var imellem sandkornene.
Studenterne grinede....
"Nuvel" sagde professoren, da latteren var stilnet af. "Hvis I nu
forestiller jer, at dette glas repræsenterer jeres liv.
Golfboldene er de vigtige ting - jeres familie, kærester, børn, helbred,
venner og yndlingspassioner - de ting som selv hvis alle andre ting gik
tabt, og kun disse ting var tilbage, stadig ville gøre jeres liv
fuldendt.
Småstenene er de andre ting, der betyder noget - såsom job, hus, bil
osv..
Sandet er alle de andre småting".
Professoren fortsatte: "Hvis I putter sandet ned i glasset først, er der
Ikke plads til hverken småstenene eller golfboldene. Det samme gælder i
livet. Hvis I bruger al jeres energi og tid på de små ubetydelige ting,
får I aldrig plads til de ting, der er vigtige for jer.
Vær opmærksom på de ting, der er kritiske for jeres lykke. Leg med jeres
børn. Pas på jeres helbred. Inviter jeres partner på middag. Tag endnu
en runde på golfbanen. Der vil altid være tid til at gøre huset rent og
ordne afløbene.
Tag jer af golfboldene først - de ting der virkelig betyder noget. Få
styr på prioriteterne - resten er bare sand."
En af de studerende rakte sin hånd i vejret og spurgtehvad kaffen
repræsenterede.
Professoren smilede; "Jeg er glad for at du spørger. Det er blot for at
vise, at lige meget hvor fyldt dit liv synes at være, så er der altid
plads til et par kopper kaffe sammen med en ven"
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