By the way, in earlier posts on this blawg of mine, I fucked up with regard to the hand sanitizer. While the bar soap of Doctor Bronner ineluctably vanquishes COVID-19 — I mean somewhat — and at the same time keeps, sometimes, humans, from getting contact dermatitis — unless I suppose you get lost in Mister Friedman’s shampoo and conditioner philosophies in practice — I dern got myself discombobulated when it came to reckonin’ the hand sanitizer. Seek for yourself here, wherein I typed on 23 March 2020:
A daily ordinary yet also amazing human in previously-existent-yet-simultaneously-continuing-as-perhaps-vastly-superior Oregon told me repeatedly just a few months back that the hand sanitizer is also extremely useful for situations where you can’t use bar soap, like say, a woman riding around on a subway-train system and needing to cleanse herself because she’s probably still fuckin’ underpaid…
I regret the error!
I’m still angry about such as this. Good thing I keep excellent notes!
Well, let’s tune out with some of these folks (below), and I’ll try to giggle and wiggle some of these buttons to get some sort of Creative Commons stuff down below. Hope everyone’s uh, doin’ gewd, and checkin’ out brilliant posts hooked up on the Notable section of this blawg. I am solving problems close to my home plate at the moment, the backstop, the catcher, so on, so forth (“Damn bats all over the place,” a Magical middle school catcher muttered last century, in the south central region of these not quite so united as before states).
This post by me is by me, mostly, I suppose, though I’ve been shot through with the brilliance of others and yet I’m still here, carryin’ on
Note: In 2020, I’m writing 52 blog posts, one per week, released on Wednesdays or so…This is entry, like, a lot, for the week of whatever, Wednesday 9 September 2020. I mean, I’m also going back in time by posting something from two years ago!
Dear fuckheads in general as well as other human beings trying to figure out what to do with their relationships/interactions based on which campuses they fantasize I might need to work at next, here is a PDF file: like, here (2 pages), dudes and dudettes and others.
I had some interesting experiences today. First, after weeks and weeks of asking, I finally received confirmation that a payment card is being held onto properly; but, what was even more fun, was that I helped another lady jumpstart her car. I realized afterward that I had forgotten to ask for the jumper cables back, because she was cool and friendly and straightforward. So I drove back to make sure her car hadn’t exploded. It hadn’t. But now I’m out a pair of jumper cables. The weather here smells weird (yes, I know that word ends in a ‘d’), and posting this is likely gonna get me a lot of spam, or none at all. Oh well.
Here’s some Theodore Sturgeon, the famous opening to his novel More Than Human (1953):
The idiot lived in a black and gray world, punctuated by the white lightning of hunger and the flickering of fear. His clothes were old and many-windowed. Here peeped a shinbone, sharp as a cold chisel, and there in the torn coat were ribs like the fingers of a fist. He was tall and flat. His eyes were calm and his face was dead.
Men turned away from him, women would not look, children stopped and watched him.
I’m gonna go do laundry, hopefully, except probably tomorrow. Hope that’s okay with, like, humans and the Earth and the temperature and everything else. I have no idea what to put at the bottom of this for the licensing. How about Creative Uncommons? Probably more important is, there actually was an artwork at the event that was related to the Zapatistas. It was quickly removed. I asked and received squirrely answers in response from The Staff.
In other news, I forgot what I was gonna say…um…yeah.
Finally, I gotta get transported to some location within the next few days, and while I know that’s a Big Ask (since people are busy), if anyone has useful usefulness concerning that, kinda like, at some point, let me Know…
Note: In 2020, I’m writing 52 blog posts, one per week, released on Wednesdays or so…This is a placeholder entry for Wednesday August 26 and also a proper post for Wednesday September 2, and if you are confused, please ask my last two most recent psychiatrists at the same time and in the same respectacles
So in general if not in principle it is perhaps more or less understandable that I would like the novel The Violent Bear It Away by Flannery O’Connor so I can read it a second time. I caminé past a bookstore earlier today and exhaled asking for a pen and the guy shook his head no. So I still have their phone number memorized except I already forgot the last two digits which I believe makes 10 times 10 possible phone calls and another person has yesterday asked for a check-in by phone today that has not happened just yet.
Returning to the compost about book prices, try to figure this fuckin’ one out. There is a trade paperback from the ’70s that is both dirt cheap and incredible hard to find in used bookstores; simultaneously, not many people actually understand its relationship to one of Mister Halford’s magnum opeyes:
I also lack on hand a 1936-first-published book by William Faulkner, not that I’m stupid enough to try to memorize that one in every possible iron placement of a sentienCheaire, I just actually think it would be sort of interesting to have lying around in case I need to get annoyed back at people on the phone who give me those phone calls I caint refuse. Or somebody could buy me an LP of Sturgeon reading a particular story of his, confused, send me the fuckin’ email down there at the bottom regarding your own lice-ensu
Regarding two nights ago when I was playing my guitar on la playa, one of ’em anyway (kind of a lot of them around this particular Deeflatport), there was an gigantically tall man with skin of black. I am worried not about him, mind you, and not either the spider who left a few whiles ago chanting at me, but that fuckin’ egg sac of the thing that’s yet on one of my many ‘squares of schizophrenia’ (confused? then before you chicken out or ostrich pout or rant at me about this and that cliche regarding when you have to poop or scoop or dupe, sit your USian eyeball right here and then riddle yourself about tourettes and emFostex), and I am just looking at that seedpod-shaped sac and wondering, though I somehow knew shining a flashlight at it would be a bad idea prior to having it confirmed by someone else who also knew I had known, anyway, the really tall guy who had to watch some other conversations with those of similar skeinburgerpianos, wondered aloud if I smoked some weed and I was like no man, these augmented 3rds, and I alLOUdingly Erkle’d my way back to a vehículo, no harm, no fuckin’ ow.
In other news, much like Lupe Fiasco, I gotta pay these bills (exactly one cheque for which I have the envelope and the stamp and the destination address and the exact dollar amount and the chequebook itself is somewhere on this goddamned carpet), and, then, I have what might be considered a show to do eventually, so I’ve been curious what happens, not only how much the Robin Cook first edition paperback novel Coma costs (which may or may not be the trade paperback to which I referred earlier), if I put a thousand ones in here while you plunge your own septictanks
Before checking that math, eat your own ass! There is a really simple word I like to call many people (in my mind or in all’y’all’s, idgaf, if you want some konji write it by other other hand or foot first second third you elementary nerds down there right the fuck under the sudukoans), it’s real simple: COWARDS
Don’t worry, you’ve reached a something that has been disconnected or is no longer in service; if you need help, please hang on….just a bit like that F is going right over those harmonics; actually, however, I went back and stitched up some really old stuff on this web-blog
Note: In 2020, I’m writing 52 blog posts, one per week, released on Wednesdays or so…This is a placeholder entry for Wednesday August 12, and yet it is also part seven of seven in this thingymabopper for today I call OopsidentA!
Note2ish: I edited this post during August 2020.
Soon I hope to release, under Creative Commons, some fiction[!] short stories of mine, that I completed more than half a decade ago. I also want to post some old music of mine, completed more than 15 years ago. But I also want to sort of show off a little, my relaxing abilities, and say that another way to structure text, besides whatever this goofy pre-calc shit is about, that I’m actually starting to understand now… f(x) means function of x, and the differential coefficient thing is something about the related rates and chain rule and the Delta(x)/Delta(t), or not, because there is some sort of bullshit fudge factor in math, because only in abstraction does A equal A, but I mean, I don’t want to go on about it here, it’s probably better discussed on reddit if you poke around the twitter feeds of people not me but whose semaphorings I… you know, cuz I sorta need lessons in using an astrolabe or a sextant or something, to understand the crucial importance of the big Deities in the sky that have to do with the sun and the moon and the night and the day, it’s like the devil and the priest, they can’t exist if one of ’em goes away (thus sprache Ian Gillan)…and yet beyond, above, everywhere, there are stars and angles and non-base-tens and other sorts of non-Manichean prosocial actions…
The below-embedded music file, is me, playing an acoustic guitar handed down to me, and um, I hope it works on your enduser audio-producing device or whatever. And I’m just gonna not do too many takes, or anything like that, because the point is to wind down, pobody’s nerfect, etc. I will make the more logical lists of finding my work via this website, douglaslucas.com, at some point of some coordinate pair of some coordinate plane …. Okay, lemme go grab an audio-recording device and tune my guitar…
And let me say few last things, more seriously now —
A few days ago, Billie J. Winner-Davis, mother of Putingate whistleblower Reality Winner (currently recovering from a COVID-19 positive test while imprisoned at FMC Carswell in Fort Worth Texas), tweeted this:
I have reached out to the @ACLU for help, only to be directed elsewhere. They know who she is, they know what's she is going through. They jumped in to assist Cohen & achieved immediate results, but wont do the same for a woman suffering inside a covid filled prison.
Alt-text of what Billie J. Winner-Davis tweeted: “I have reached out to the @ACLU for help, only to be directed elsewhere. They know who she is, they know what she’s going through. They jumped in to assist Cohen & achieved immediate results, but wont do the same for a woman suffering inside a covid filled prison.”
I would simply like to note that I have received similar results while talking with nonprofit leaders supposedly tasked with helping journadoodles and whistleblowers. I have received similar results while talking and following up with federal and state politicians and their subordinates. Not everything that happens is on television or twitter. Some of it’s just plain molecular. After the relative ease with which I saw for years my articles about Assadnge (note the ‘d’ for yes, Syrian Assad) — I didn’t know better, back in the first half of the ’10s — and other masculinist men, articles commissioned by corporate media and their ancillaries, I feel quite comfortable in saying that there is, obviously (obviously to some!) serious misogyny throughout (read this for more if you like by someone other than me, or Ursula K. Le Guin, or…). Oh, this is a neat blog that should be read carefully. The just-over-three minutes of music I jammed out to, tonight, starts off relaxing, but for many (uh, how many?) listeners, might not end that way; indeed, it might sound anxiety-producing toward the end. Except once you know this: toward the end of this ridiculous-sounding recording (cheap device for a freelancer, y’all), I started alluding to some music composed by some (but importantly, not all) of the musicians I grew up jamming with during my teens, musicians whom I referenced in part 3 of this OopsidentA — some of them, that is. It’s hard to get out of narcissism especially when born in the United States, so I’m sorry I’ve spammed people some times with my “content”, but (if I do say so myself) people have to learn somehow… Likewise, I hope you can consider doing something practical to effectively support the projects/people I’m so often referencing. Now I’ll get out of here before I keep headbanging at one’s own risk. Thanks in advance for your patience with my ’60s-’70s weird distortion recording sound quality in the .mp3 below when you listen on a cheap device without headphones, but I kinda like it all the same, I mean, it’s not necessarily for you yourself specifically out of 7.5-something billion people, right? So if you read English (or use a translator, or some sort of Sturgeon-esque tele-empathy), or if you like this weird guitar tone of mine, etc… Rest assured, never surrender; Lettuce quote Jeremy Hammond regarding his noncompliance with a federal grand jury: “I will continue to do the right thing, no matter how long it takes. I know how to do time, and I will never be intimidated by their threats. Ever!! I refuse!!” Here was some optimism…
Note: In 2020, I’m writing 52 blog posts, one per week, released on Wednesdays or so…This is a placeholder entry for Wednesday August 5, and yet it is also part six of seven in this thingymabopper for today I call OopsidentA!
Okay so there’s this ongoing COVID-19 pandemic that’s killing tons of people, to put it imprecisely but close ’nuff, since yes, pathogens change, but no, if you’re a USian reading this, you probably haven’t unlocked some Flat Earther mystery of how it’s all bogus hysteria since, in the United States, it is rare to understand how to downshift after exponentiation, even the Washington Post has had to publish articles for the general public like this one: “When coronavirus is growing exponentially, everything looks fine until it doesn’t.” I linked that WaPo article in a 23 March 2020 blog post of mine and wrote:
Addition and exponentiation are both arithmetic operations. Here’s an addition example: 3 + 3 + 3 + 3 = 12. Here’s an exponentiation example: 34 = 3 × 3 × 3 × 3 = 81. That exponentiation is 3 times itself four times. It depends, but disease spread can often be more exponential than straightforward addition. Exponential because each infected person, especially prior to becoming incapacitated (but possibly even then), can infect many people, not just another single person.
Downshifting from recent exponentiation, whether from virii or maniae or credit cards out of whack-o’s, can be even more difficult, than, like, the upshifting part. Here’s my proof in 3-part stupid USian buzzcut sportsball coach logic, like an interdepartmental memo that looks like the 1-2-3 here on that webpage, or this “keys, wallet, cell phone” thing here; then returning to watch the video referenced a few clauses ago in this very sentence and thereafter just making a list of every hospital ombudsman/patient advocate postal address in the United States so Humans can just start snailmailing them bibliographic entries like these, I mean, it’s something of a praxis idea, amirite;
Except I actually remember being in some of those places; and in there, the elderly are already deluged with snailmail, trying to rotate endless envelopes, and I never get a chance to look too closely, because I’m not the sort of guy who would, but it’s terrifying, even from near or medium distance. Of course, I’ve been in those fuckin’ places quite many a times. And sometimes they aren’t as bad as before, but rarely, seldomly, depending on where the fuck they actually put me in those things, like an Aleko going right under a bridge in one of them Mexican radios, and I’m under there still, under that thing, surprised the fuckin’ Aleko shit is halfway legible, because that’s the only one I think I ever got through on that particular set of his Compositions, where they got the weird lookin’ thing that cross like some sort of ninja
Back to my 1-2-3 proof that downshifting is more difficult once you’ve revved up, than the revving up was in the first place, observe please (or not, I mean, you might find this all really immature or obnoxious or something):
I just went to the Spanish-siloed version of Wikipedia for Crecimiento_exponencial and found the below image showing exponential growth surpassing liner and cubic growth:
I don’t trust those date-lookin’ numbers on the y axis…but it is a Euclidean quadrant I, if Euclid was real desert prophet or whatever in ancient Gweece
2. I don’t think “flattening the curve” or even “inverting the curve” is as simple as just turning the picture upside down (or turning your monitor, head, or mind upside down). Because uh, that would be, uh, too…Idk what to say. Comedic, I guess.
3. So instead,
If a person wants to down-shift or chill out regarding exponentially growing curves of mania, or credit card balances, or budget spreadsheets flashing danger danger, or needing more sleep, and stuff, it’s more complicated than just, like, multiplying everything by negative one or turning everything upside down.
Volume up! Kind of like that thing where teachers remind parents about how hard it is for their kids to learn to read. The teachers hand a book to the parents and then instruct the parents to turn the book upside down and try to read it. And the parents are like holy shit, because they can’t just repeat the turn-the-book-up-down procedure a few times and then suddenly have the ability to read upside-down text (I mean, unless they are way impressively neurodivergent!) So yeah. That is why it is important in life to understand maths like the below pictured screenshot’ed by me, which will be explained after the image, thus no alt text. (Volume down.)
Kind of the short version of the above Precalculus introduction, Basic Overview, Graphing Parent Functions, Transformations, Domain & Range, is, to paraphrase something I read in Sylvia Nasar’s biography of John Nash (not the Beautiful Mind movie, dammit), where somebody else was explaining how Nash told them he figured some sort of dealy-out that had a lot of math (and probably death in it too, what with the Air Force associations and all in Nash’s biography, although it’s def out there that he refused to change strategy for very long periods of time…), it’s like, “You have to do this, and watch out for that, and then pay attention to this other thing, and be careful not to such-and-such, and stuffs,” because if you don’t, your car/credit card balance/mania/decreasing-or-increasing-I-often-get-this-part-confused sleep debt just sort of goes kablooey in a bad way. Capeesh? Usually, with my sense of humor, I try to just use a sort of at a glance aesthetic ability that boils down to either “don’t even fuckin’ think about tryin’ that” or “hey, this seems good/fun!” (Get outta here, divine command theory and supposed ancient etymolgoies.) Until very recently I never actually understood why people were sometimes sending me messages about they walked or would have to walk soon this many feet on such-and-such days and had to take this many pills and go to this many meetings and appointments and stuff, it just sounded like some sort of pre-emptive proselytizing and trying to get laid, but now I realize, maybe in some cases, certain good individuals, were defending pre-emptively in a good way against proctologizing!
And now for the grand finale of calming down, I carefully step my way toward the final part 7-of-7 of this OopsidentA (might take a while, but will be really really good, I promise/hope!)…so while I work on that, I will leave you with a comedy video I like by comedian Eddie Izzard, which for all I know, is — the transcript of it, I mean, if there were one, which there probably is — stuck horribly in colonizer etymologies as well. But I mean, pobody’s nerfect. (In terms of the alt text, or for people reading this etched into tablets in the far past/future once all the internet has collapsed/hasn’t yet existed, it’s a video less than 7 minutes of comedian Eddie Izzard explaining-ish Latin versus today’s biz-speak English. The video should be from the last few decades or so.)
Note: In 2020, I’m writing 52 blog posts, one per week, released on Wednesdays or so…This is a placeholder entry for Wednesday July 29, and yet it is also part five of seven in this thingymabopper for today I call OopsidentA!
Regarding the whole Dr. Perry C. Baird Jr. study from 1944, more regarding the context/importance of that study is explained by me in the entry on douglaslucas.com/files beginning “In August 2020”. The below picture has no alt text because it’s just a screenshot by me of the “In August 2020” entry at douglaslucas.com/files. BTW I got my little headshot thingy-ma-doodle on this website of mine updated, along with the douglaslucas.com front page News section (another route there is to click “Home” on the nav-menu above, if you want…and stuffs), during the intermission of OopsidentA 4 of 7, the blog-post of mine preceding this one! And now for the screenshot-picture:
The above is a screenshot taken by me of writing by me a few minutes ago (or an hour or two I suppose), and the image supra (not the Toyota sportscar) has no alt-text as that would be just make things worse I assume, and it’s easy enough, I hope, to go to https//douglaslucas.com/files if you need to encourage someone or make something else read my prolixity.
Two more posts to go in this OopsidentA series, I better start downshifting…
Note: In 2020, I’m writing 52 blog posts, one per week, released on Wednesdays or so…This is a placeholder entry for Wednesday July 22, and yet it is also part four of seven in this thingymabopper for today I call OopsidentA!
And now for an intermission. Time-spans ago, someone molecular-ly, perhaps craning their neck in toward me through some sort of portal of my place, from their position atop the loop-de-loops of the West Seattle Bridge, that piece of highly salient failed fixed infrastructure of the often and yet not always valence-ing-ly bad United States, said this music below, Nobuo Uematsu’s “Spinach Rag,” is like the soundtrack to my life, so here goes, have a little more than 2 minutes of ragtime from the video game Final Fantasy VI (Japanese numbering) aka Final Fantasy III (USian numbering).
“Spinach Rag” by Nobuo Uematsu
The music is associated with the below-pictured scene/stage/whatever from the game.
I didn’t actually play this version…looks as if graphic-designed for mobile…
Meanwhile, I’m gonna go update some stuff on my website, similarish-ing-ly as I have recently updated the whole ‘graphic design’ or whatever (visuals ain’t my specialty!) for my Twitter. Took me several years to figure out how to actually do that the way I wanted, without losing my damn mind (and thus, rather a long story to explain, or a short one, depending on various variables, like total word counts, whether I trust you, not to mention the ‘as needed’ stockpiles of pharmaceuticals or nukes spanning the globe in mysteriously prosocial suitcases, because they’re just pretend nukes, leading ultimately, if not throughout, to oxytocin-y snuggles).
Note: In 2020, I’m writing 52 blog posts, one per week, released on Wednesdays or so…This is a placeholder entry for Wednesday July 15, and yet it is also part three of seven in this thingymabopper for today I call OopsidentA!
When I was in middle school and high school, back in Texas, I used to make a lot of jokes and get in trouble thereupon, but in my opinion, too many powerful people at that overpriced K-12 paid too much attention to the mundane aspects of my prankstering and too little attention to the semantic meaning of whatever I was actually saying in my jokes. More precisely, I might have said something strange and then got told to go to whichever authority’s office, due to the challenging pitch of my voice or due to my challenging facial expressions or my challenging all-black shaved-head Pantera-like get-up or something negligible like that; yet, if anybody actually bothered (the other musicians did bother, mirable dictu!) to translate the semantic or mathematical meaning of whatever I was saying in the multilingual joke, they then would understand there was a lot more to my prank than just being another challenging and traumatized teenage boy, although maybe not, that’s for someone else besides me to decide.
(Only a few days ago, I remembered some telephone calls decades back involving a middle school language teacher in the South Central Region of the United States, but in an important dissimilarity to the caricature-opponents of Mike Tyson’s Punch Out!!, I don’t want to telegraph every last thingy, even if that were possible as I think Parmenides might argue!)
So then, very recently (influenced by a bunch of random computer alphanumerics too nyminous to list; I have no idea what these sets of alphanumerics actually might be theorized to include, hell, they could have been bots, like the programs that write the articles regarding sport and stock market statistics in the United States’ few remaining deadtree newspapers), I sort of like, studied maths or something? So I’ll kind of put a picture below about that (gimme a few minutes), because I’m highly annoyed at having to repeatedly explain this stuff to mental health professionals across my lifespan. These mental health professionals probably check my blog and don’t mention it (nor their various turf wars over unique sales points in the health industry sector and the therapists not doing their clinical supervision in front of the patient; in the Open Dialogue method, the therapists in fact do their ‘clinical supervision’ in front of the patient so that everyone can participate), kind of like me trying to explain to the mental health professionals (across my lifespan) that yes, I recently-ish know ‘adrenal fatigue’ is ‘out of bounds’ in the United States as a concept, but the 1944 study by Dr. Perry Baird cross-referenced by Mimi Baird’s later book about him He Wanted The Moon (I mean, who could blame him?) is still relevant to trying to figure out if my adrenal cortices would exhibit any gross hypergenesis on a simple ‘imaging scan’ (or whatever substitute good a medical-economist might put there, operating on the level of USian high school micro-economics and its endless algebraic multiplicands), without me mentioning that in general it’s kind of an and/or if there’s relevance between the plight I lately hypothesize my adrenal cortices are in and whether the United States will face either a hard coercion ground invasion by a non-domestic opponent for the first time in a very very long time, or the seductive coercion equivalent, as the United States already did: see my in-person reporting in 2018 from Putingate whistleblower Reality Winner’s sentencing hearing (that is to say, Ms. Winner revealed evidence about propaganda-type coercion emanating from Russia, the battering ram of China, and Ms. Winner continues to suffer imprisonment in Fort Worth, Texas), and see as well as 2014’s “Free will and seductive coercion” by Heather Marsh and then this 2014 blog post “How we came to be ruled by Death Eaters” by Heather Marsh too (and if you do read or better yet, re-read, that second blog post of hers, take care to note that the word “resembles” does not mean “equals” — as the George Carlin bitbyte on Baseball versus US-Football might help clarify; like, even USian-football players giving each other concussions on the regular [a really vile practice which involves lies to kids from adults among other things] can become snuggly friends, as appropriate, as much as I am personally reluctant to concede that point, about the sportsball I mean and the damn US-football coaches). Now all that being said, many of these medical industry professionals across my more recent lifespan are actually pretty damn awesome given the context (Seattle; the-ship-has-sailed-on-fixing-the-United-States; so on) and the fact that, given the context, I’m a goofball who might politely experiment with how much it might confuse selves to stare at not-a-mirror and just sort of ponder THAT IT WILL BE CONSIDERED THAT PEOPLE MIGHT NEED TO ROUTINELY DO STUFF while thinking about arpegrogressions, and decjrodalades-old video game music. Now for the promised picture, except after another paragraph.
Delta(x) / Delta(t) is actually correct and it does make a difference, if you wanna leave endless algebraic multiplicands anyway (which is arguable in my opinion, at least for some coordinate pairs!), because it’s not actually Delta(x) / Delta(y), that is the differential coefficient in pre-calculus, or calculus, or something, unless Delta loves to fly and it shows, which probably has something to do with the United States Central Intelligence Agency and all the evil that people, unethically, don’t talk about usually, because we need, um, inquires and I think I’m supposed to get back to working on that, not thinking of it so singlehandedly these times around. There’s some sort of thing in calculus’ related rates called “the chain rule” but I haven’t understood it yet because every time I see that noun phrase, it just makes me think of Rob Halford (as inthis 1984 classic by Judas Priest), not unlike how someone recently told me on a long-distance-communicator-which-allows-amplitude (e.g., shortwave radio, telephonic gizmo-phone, grainy black-and-white video of a brief semaphoring dance) that each and every time he sees the string “Chomsky“, he just reads it as “Quaalude.” Here’s the picture:
Well, of course the article does not cite any sources acceptable to the nonprofit-plus-mansplainy-editors behind Wikipedia; the pictured entry is siloed by the English language version of Wikipedia, and further, at least as far as I can reckon, USian English (not British? idk…) is Command-and-Conquered by the USian 1950s where all refrigerators are the same size even in the year 2020.
Note: In 2020, I’m writing 52 blog posts, one per week, released on Wednesdays or so…This is a placeholder entry for Wednesday July 8, and yet it is also part two of seven in this thingymabopper for today I call OopsidentA!
I made this one up using some generic meme-generator! The template’s origin is apparently somewhat disputed; and, no, I don’t want to watch The Big Lebowski (or Seinfeld).
Follow 