10 Ways to Avoid Social Media Self Mutilation

We all know how things happen in real life where you say or do something in haste when, thinking about things later, you realize you probably should have reacted differently.

I call it poking myself in the eye (figuratively, of course).

These things happen in social media as well – all the time. I'm no social media expert, in fact, I've pulled some pretty wicked groaners.

Some of my faux pas have been a result of male pattern grumpiness (which is hereditary as I understand) but most were totally avoidable. Whether I'm posting on Facebook, a discussion on LinkedIn, Tweeting or posting/contributing to blogs, I've found setting a few ground rules for myself has helped to keep me from embarrassing myself totally.

Here (in no particular order) are 10 checklist items that I've come up with for myself to help avoid the pitfalls of social media black eyes and I thought you might be interested (feel free to add to, or discuss). Note: these are based on common sense so probably aren't all that original. Perhaps they've been rattling around your brain too...

1) Kindness is as kindness does. Contrary opinions can help further an amiable conversation but are sometimes just a knee-jerk reaction. Knowing the difference helps. When things go south, stepping out of yourself to support others having a difficult time understanding is sometimes more powerful than a confrontation. Stepping out of the conversation entirely is sometimes best.

2) One wild Saturday night live can kill your Monday. We all like to enjoy our off-hours in different ways but posting references to these fun and often edgy activities can be accessed by professional contacts later looking for clues to your character. Nuff said.

3) Calling constantly at all hours can cause people to switch to unlisted numbers. Posting excessively can bother some and cause them to de-list you. A combination of moderation and meaningful substance is best. Wise quotes from others and links to articles are great occasionally but fifteen in a row in a three hour period can aggravate those who have to wade through them in their in-box.

4) Being a cat doesn't necessarily make you king of the jungle. There are a plethora of experts on the net. Some real and some not. It only takes most of us a few sentences to differentiate between someone who is a qualified resource and others who set themselves up as a self-styled expert. Don't be afraid to be yourself.

5) Don't hand out blank checks. If you don't like getting a mountain of emails dumped on you, try to stay away from giving out your online information, especially to sites that greet you with a pop up to sign up for free, even before you've seen its content. Once you give them your email address, you're basically stuck. And don't even bother trying to unsubscribe...

6) Play nice with other kids in the playground. The internet is truly an international, inclusive environment for people from all countries, cultures and ages. Discussion group responses that critique folks whose native language may not be English for their spelling and grammar or ridicule others for their inexperience can say more about the poster than the person being critiqued.

7) One loose wing nut can take the wheels off of a discussion. Many a discussion topic has been crashed by those who would a) post a comment only meant to push people off site to their own blog or website (i.e. spam), b) post personal opinions that have no real connection to the flow of discussion, or c) bending the discussion away from the original intent into areas of politics or religion. Be respectful and contribute logically. Please.

8) 'Funny' can be a two-edged rubber sword. The use of humor can be a great ice-breaker and provide a friendly approach to posting. But it can land in hostile lands. Folks do invest quite a bit of themselves into the seriousness of a discussion and humor may be seen as lacking respect or dismissive. Gauge your laughs with some sensitivity.

9) Even if you're a duck, limit the fowl language. Profanity may be acceptable in closed groups and the over-use of texting terms like LOL, WTF and ROFL may seem expeditious and trendy between friends but both can give folks who don't know you the wrong impression. Investing your time typing out your comments without swearing and excessive use of acronyms and emoticons (smiley faces) may mean reaching more people with the intelligent side of you.

10) Don't take this social media thing too seriously, or for too long. Life is to be enjoyed and a social media experience is one that can be rich with substance. If you like connecting with people in real life, you'll love the prospect of connecting with old and new friends, peers and associates from around the world online. But don't forget to set your limits. Life's too short.

Going out for a bike ride now...

Out of The Sky

 

"The artist is a receptacle for emotions that come from all over the place: from the sky, from the earth, from a scrap of paper, from a passing shape, from a spider's web."
Pablo Picasso

The Zippy-Dippy-Shower-All

When was the last time you had to go out on a sweltering day only to find yourself far from home in desperate need of a shower? Stop! Your worries are over. Now, with the mighty ZIPPY-DIPPY-SHOWER-ALL, you can take a refreshing shower no matter where you are.

No more messy water hoses at society garden parties, no more trespassing charges for dips in a stranger's pool, and no more embarrassing moments with the produce sprinklers in the vegetable aisles. 

This amazing, eco-friendly, patented invention will give you hours of pleasure! It's reusable, durable and comes with its own handy-dandy travel case complete with pocket for your favorite towel. ORDER NOW and get a collapsible 20 gallon water jug ABSOLUTELY FREE.

But WAIT! That's not all! Now that you're clean, you say you've worked up an appetite? NO problem! The Zippy-Dippy-Shower-All is made from recycled mac and cheese leftovers. Simply slip the refolded bag into boiling water and simmer for three hours. Instantly, you will have a sumptuous meal for four (remove zipper before consuming)! Comes in three delicious flavors: mac and cheese gruel, mac gruel with cheese, or cheese gruel with mac! Aren't hungry? NO PROBLEM! Simply boil for another hour and you'll have a tile grout for your home projects!

CALL NOW!

The Nomadic Wildlife of Summer

Summer brings out all manner of wildlife for us to celebrate. But forget the appearance of the common barbeque species, often accompanied by the cloying smell of Coppertone. The true sign of summer (apart from summer reruns) is the emergence of genus icecreamistruckus, commonly called the Ice Cream Truck, from hibernation.

This animal only comes out when summer weather is truly upon us. Their tinkling mating call is quite distinctive, and sounds something like: "De-di-lut-de-lut-di-lutdidoot" (sorry for the bad impression).

Rare in some areas, these creatures  appear for one purpose and one purpose only: to attract and dispense its goodness to human children (and the young at heart).

Occasionally known to gather at festivals and fairs with fellow members of the truckus family, (the chip truck, roadside canteen and cotton candy stand), they are normally a nomadic breed. Their natural habitat is basically wherever the weather is warmest. Parents, when learning of one roosting close by, will send their offspring curbside with change jingling in their pockets to feed the wonderful creature and witness firsthand the splendor of the species.

Be on the watch for this rare creature. They are such a treat!

(Life In Parentheses) Week

Today, I thought I'd begin a short time off from work by putting my life in parentheses.

This is not a step I take lightly, because it means that during this time I am hereby declaring myself material that could be omitted without destroying or altering the overall meaning of this sentence called life. Normally I'd hope that I would be more vital, but not this week.

I am independent of the normal course of things.

So, if you think of me in the next little while, (and there is no reason you should) you will have to put me into your thoughts as supplemental content. Nice, but inconsequential. 

For this week I intend to be as much an afterthought as are things like world peace, truly representational democracy and universal human kindness. Follow along if you want on my journey in unimportance.

This week I am last week's stale omelet... a bird singing on a vacation rooftop to no purpose.

Auto Correct Flubs

Lots of chatter from folks these days about the perils of auto correct functionality on the writing of emails, text messages and posts – often to the chagrin of the author. The function is meant to fix misspelled words but often hilarious confusion reigns...

Take a break sometime today and have a look through the site "Damn You Auto Correct!" (Warning: language.)

The Shoreline

Beach grass swaying gently. Waves lapping: the rhythm of the seas.

Deep sighs and moments in time bending in the breeze...

The Joy of Bigger Brothers...

Ah, summer. A time of getting the family together and setting out on idyllic family vacations. The memories of packing up the '57 Chevy station wagon with kids, tent, clothes and Coleman stove to head down east to visit grandparents. (That's me perched on my brother's knee. I was probably four. )

It's all coming back to me now: traveling packed between bigger brothers. The joy of being given nuggies, tickled into submission, wrapped in a foul-smelling sleeping bag and being told to eat bugs at rest stops.

The happy-go-lucky life of growing up with big brothers: Indian burns, wedgies, being told to touch my tongue to metal fence posts in winter, and putting on rubber boots filled with pudding. It was a time when being babysat meant long, leisurely hours locked in the bedroom closet (called a "fort").

My brothers used to tell me I came from either the bread man (who's name was Duffy), or from the milkman (who's name was Keith). I knew better, even at that age. Duffy was short, smelled of yeast and had a mass of dark hair on his arms and Keith was portly with very large feet and no chin. No similarities there.

I torture them to this day by constantly reminding them that I am their brother. And I'm much younger than they are. And better looking. Ah, time. The great equalizer.

Wanted: The Computer I Was Promised

What's with these machines anyway? It was predicted that with the oncoming of the computer age us humans would have more leisure time to sit on patios and drink those drinks with umbrellas and nibble on strange finger foods from foreign fingers...

But it seems like we're working harder and longer than ever. What is with that?

It's time is to make these blasted machines take the next step. Enough of the chains that bind us to them like lowly, second-class slaves. For crying out loud we got cars that can parallel park themselves, patio lights that automatically turn themselves on and off, non-stick frying pans and coffeemakers that turn themselves on!

Hear me Apple? Hear me IBM? Hear me software developers? If you want to give people what we really want, as opposed to what you think we need, stop fiddling around with frivolous upgrades, toy tablets, silly apps and puzzling programs and give us our freedom.

Let us walk into work, say hello, flip a switch, tell the computer what to do today, who to send the files to and how to respond to requests. Five, ten minutes tops. Then we're off. We have a life to live and it ain't in front of a keyboard and screen.

You have our order. Awaiting delivery.

Award Your Own Self

Recognition. Awards. Acceptance. Everyone loves to win. It's a point in life when it all seems to come together.

Companies spend thousands each year in fees and preparation of entries. Folks salivate at even the thought of that little statue, that piece of paper carefully framed and hung on the wall... those footprints in the sidewalk of fame. Having one means everyone else in the world lusts to be you. You become bigger than you. You become a star.

So, okay. We all can't be stars. If we were, the world would just be too bright, wouldn't it? But that's no reason we all can't celebrate a teeny-tiny bit. The next time you do something that you're especially proud of, give yourself the "Bitchin! Award". Throw your hands in the air and give out a whoop, then get out the kazoo and triumphantly play a bit of John Phillip Sousa. Break out the bubbly water and do a jig around a two-foot square. You deserve it.

Now, even a salami and cheese with dill pickles on rye bread sandwich with mustard and mayo (hold the lettuce) can be an award winner. That phone call you just made? Excellent. The way you poured coffee and didn't spill it? Remarkable. Just getting up some mornings? Absolutely bitchin!

Do this twice a day and you'll soon find other people in awe of the you that is you.

Spread The Word

The value of gathering opinion is not just hearsay.

It's the recording of testimonials, personal thoughts, information and social trends at the same time – all with personality. And it's all real. Unscripted. The resulting informal data resonates with stakeholders and peer groups alike.

Yesterday, an opportunity to do just that. The questions were planned in advance: designed to allow the folks being interviewed to provide a wide range of opinions and expertise. The responses were interesting and varied.

It's an inclusive process, where a wide range of people from various backgrounds are asked to provide their thoughts. And all invited to participate yesterday chipped in with enthusiasm.

No one said, "Oh, sorry can't make it."

Recording comments and support for initiatives is a great tool. In this day and age, technology allows us to capture these comments easily. With strategy, planning and the participation of a few key professionals, the final product can be very effective in presentations, posted on websites, blogs and all forms of social media.

Thanks to all who participated. Best comment of the day? "It's a no-brainer."

Where Bad Thoughts Go

I know I'm going to evoke the wrath of the recycle police, but I must admit I throw out a couple hundred thoughts every day. I love to crumple them up and unceremoniously chuck 'em into the trash can. They are then picked up by the city every Monday and are gone. Somewhere out there, there is a toxic dump composed entirely of my discarded thoughts. My apologies to the environment. And to those living downwind.

If a thought doesn't help, or comes between two good thoughts that belong together: they're toast. Sometimes when I'm working I discard thoughts even before they halfway hit the light of day. And other times I'll do stuff and the next morning I'll wake up and want to deep-six it, saying to myself, "What the heck was I thinking?" (This includes yesterday's post... and perhaps, tomorrow – today's. lol)

In this toxic thought dump there are negative thoughts, thoughts that make you think it is okay to eat that three-day-old cold pizza from the fridge before you go to bed and thoughts that make you think too much. There are half-thoughts that go nowhere, mean thoughts and hasty thoughts. These are thoughts that clutter up your brain. You can't even give them away. You don't even want people to know you had them.

In my defense, I am not indiscriminate in my thought chucking. I do take care about which ones I turf. Because sure enough, if I accidentally throw out a good thought, I'll probably need it tomorrow...

Ensemble Success

Common definition of a bit player is one who plays a role that is not important, but that may not be entirely true these days. Bit parts throughout history have often been pivotal to the plot and can make or break a production. Ensemble groups, where everyone is equal and no one dominates, have laid the foundation of great art.

Constantin Stanislavski (January 1863 – August 1938) famously remarked that "there are no small parts, only small actors."

Stanislavski, a Russian actor and director became known for his 'system' of acting which lead to the founding (years down the line) of a New York City theater collective. It was intended as a base for a new kind of theatre — a forceful, naturalistic and highly disciplined artistry. It was a new approach, where the actors form a pure ensemble; where there are no "stars". Artists like James Dean and Ellen Burstyn were allowed to craft their art in this environment and ultimately allow their brilliance to shine.

This approach also gives business leaders a new way of thinking about teams. From ensemble teams, where all roles are important, spring well-rounded solutions. Everyone rolls up their sleeves and everyone is valued for their contribution.

I'm into it. Hand me that broom.

Internet Buds

Two kids in a playground. Buds.

Buds are a special breed. They are more than friends. They are those who you can hang out with without fear that all they want to do is sell you insurance. They are the folks who know the meaning behind what you say even when you aren't really sure you know what you mean. And you can rest assured that they won't take off-handed comments the wrong way. You can stand with them without having to say anything. And when you get in a pickle with one of the other kids in the playground, they got your back. A look or a word is as good as a novel... okay, a short story.

Recently, I have found that you can not only meet buds in your childhood, in school, or in your workplace, but from your online acquaintances as well. It is somewhat of an enigma to this old soul. While not expecting it, over the past few years online I found a few. We hang out, shoot the breeze, share a laugh and when something goes down the garbage disposal of life that wasn't supposed to, we're there with a figurative wrench.

Shows to go you: good people are good people, even if they happen to live a few thousand miles away... and you've never really met.

Happy Victoria Day

 

Unknown to many, today is a holiday for most here in Canada (and some other countries). Schools, offices, banks, liquor and beer stores are closed and public transportation is reduced to holiday schedules. Garbage pick up is delayed by a day and people traditionally head to the country to open up cottages, break out the barbeques from winter storage, do some spring cleaning and rescue shorts from drawers and Hawaiian shirts from the closet. It is also okay to wear white socks as of this day. But not with sandals.

Many Canadians use this weekend to attend to their gardens, because it's fairly safe that the freezing weather is past. The holiday is colloquially known as "May Two-Four" in parts of Canada; a double entendre that refers both to the date around which the holiday falls (May 24) and the Canadian slang for a case of twenty-four beers (a "two-four"), a drink popular during the long weekend.  

Queen Victoria was a fairly short woman of five-foot in an era when people were shorter in general. She was the monarch of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland from 20 June 1837 until her death on 1 May 1876. Her reign of 63 years and 7 months, which is longer than that of any other British monarch and the longest of any female monarch in history, is known as the Victorian era. May 24 or the last Monday before that date is a date to remember the late queen, who was deemed the "Mother of Confederation" and unofficially marks the end of the winter weather and the beginning of the summer social calendar. 

Us? Peanut and I are doing laundry, pigging out on our favorite foods and later I'll be giving him a "bad Rand haircut" to prepare for warmer weather. After all, heavy fur coats are not only unnecessary until the fall, they are bulky and tend to weigh down old bones... Suffice to say, he won't be looking in mirrors for the next few weeks...

Great Times At The Drive-Thru

It's wonderful working for a living. And it's fun picking from all the choices one has in the proper disbursement of disposable income. The buying power of my dollar is scintillating. Once income tax is taken off the top, the car payment paid, the insurance and utilities satisfied, the rent rented and the dog food store fed, it's time to spend, spend, spend!

The options for my almighty dollar in this modern day world are astounding. And dining out is my nirvana.

I can't afford an expensive outing often – not if I'm going to shore up my government's finances and keep the utility companies going at the same time.

I've learned to align both my budget and my expectations with my environment. If I pull into the drive-thru I'm not expecting a five-star event, just as much as I wouldn't expect burgers and fries on the menu of a fine dining establishment.

And I have to admit, the drive-thru experience is nothing to be sneezed at.

It's actually a wonderful culinary adventure. You can dress how you like, select your own mood music and choose the eventual place of your dining experience: perhaps with a view! You get to give your order into this tiny box, drive up and pay in one window, drive a little further and get your order from another window (separate windows so as not to contaminate the cuisine with sordid cash). And then, with a cheery smile, you are rewarded with your own bag of food containing individually wrapped items, as ordered. It's easy to imagine them custom-made and lovingly wrapped by elves. Your drink comes with its own hermetically sealed drinking straw and it's fun taking the paper wrapping off. You get to poke the straw through a hole in the top of the plastic drink cover. Then the best part: condiments and extras. Cute little packets of ketchup, mustard and sometimes vinegar. Salt and pepper. Sealed plastic bags with utensils and neatly folded napkins. And if you don't use them, you get to keep them to give out as party favors at birthday parties and such.

And then, to wrap up a wonderful outing, I suggest a trip through the Touchless Car Wash. Just like a ride in one of those fancy theme parks!

Friendly Filing

I believe it was a change to freedom of information legislation that lead a corporate client to consider how to approach the subject internally with finesse...

For those in the trenches it is an opportunity for awareness of how to think about and deal with files in this new age of transparency. Not at all scary really, but it's a change nonetheless; so a bit scary.

Enter File Guy, a friendly character rendered in corporate colors who pops into print layouts and web posts with information about a more open file system, tips on cleaning up reports, and things to consider when writing memos, meeting minutes and electronic messages.

I think I said that right.

Just Hoping For A Ladder

So, okay. After hearing the news out of California this week that the world will end this Saturday, I've been looking for a sign. Something that would assure me I would not be left behind to "experience 153 days of torment."

Walking down the hall at work yesterday I think I found it. A sign!

Naturally cheered by this, I decided to explore the history of folks predicting the end of the world. I am, after all, here to serve. There is a long list. Here, for your edification, are the more notable ones (note: I could find no mention that the end of the Oprah Show would herald the Apocalypse).

The latest call (apart from the one above) is the end of the world will occur on December 21, 2012. It is the last day in the Mayan's system of calendars – winter solstice, when the earth will be aligned with the sun and the center of the Milky Way for the first time in more than 26,000 years, Most scholars agree, as do modern Mayans, that the fact they ended their calendar did not signify anything. (The authors probably just retired and moved to a nice garden home near Mexico City.)

Greek historian Diodorus was told in the first century B.C. by Egyptian priests that mortals would rule their country for little less than 18,000 years... turns out mortals have been kings of their country for a little less than 5,000 years. I'm not a math whiz but that would seem to give us a bit of time yet.

Isaac Newton noted on the back of an envelope that the end of the world would come in 2060.

William Miller, a Baptist priest, predicted that the second coming was arriving on October 22, 1844. He led his flock up a steep mountain, promising them the secret of life and its miracles. It was a long walk home.

In 1919, meteorologist Albert Porta predicted that the conjunction of 6 planets would generate a magnetic current that would cause the sun to explode and engulf the earth on December 17, 1920. (He lost some professional credibility.)

In 1980, televangelist Pat Robertson alarmed many when he informed his television audience that by the end of 1982 there was going to be a judgment on the world. He recovered his creds enough to go on to run for President in the Republican Primaries in 1988. 

Prognastigator Michel de Nostrdame (Nostradamus 1503 – 1566) quoted, "The year 1999, seventh month / From the sky will come great king of terror." Something probably got lost in the many translations of his writings.

So there you have it. No one really knows when the end of the world as we know it will come. And it's probably not going to be this Saturday (this guy was wrong once before).

Still, I think I'll hold off mowing the lawn until Sunday.

The Rutabaga In The Corner

Here, we have a chair. Nod your head if you agree. Thank you.

Aha! There I have you. This is not actually a chair. Chairs are chairs only if they are sat on. And while this assemblage of wood, material, stuffing, wire and thread may assume to be a chair, it is not. Because it is never sat on. It might as well be a giant rutabaga sitting in the corner over there.

Because this chair is for COMPANY only. Growing up, these pieces of furniture existed in the thousands. No one was allowed to sit on them unless they were company. When friends came in, you were instructed to tell them, "Don't sit there, it's for company."

Funny thing was, no one ever told you what company was.

Many families then not only had chairs like these, some had entire rooms that were set aside for company. Upon entering their house, you were perhaps allowed a view of the room but you were quickly ushered past into other rooms. Rooms, like basement rec rooms, that could be bricked up and hidden when company came over.

Some went so far as to encase all furniture in these special rooms in plastic: the coverings only to be taken off in case they were expecting... you guessed it... company.

Such silliness. I swore at a young age to never have such an item in my home.

Today, I was dismayed to discover that I have such a chair. It has all the symptoms. Even I feel weird sitting in it. When I do I have to be in a suit. And if someone comes in and sits in it my blood pressure goes up. Cold sweat appears. Breathing gets rapid and shallow. Because what would I do if all of a sudden company should show up and someone is already sitting in their chair?

I think I may need professional help.

Still Life With Sneakers

Sneakers kicked off at the back door with laces still tied loosely. 

Shaking raindrops from his red jacket, he drapes it on a hook to dry and closes the door behind him.

A few moments for idle thoughts. He flicks on the lights, puts on some Mozart, opens his notebook and pen pauses over paper... 

What does success look like, he wonders? Is it riches and glam? Accolades and fame? Love and marriage? Truth and wisdom?

He smiles and writes...

"Sneakers kicked off at the back door with laces still tied loosely."

The Fence Listener

I like fences. I'm no expert in fenceology, but I've met many in my life and I have had words with more than a few.

And I'm here to tell you that it doesn't matter what fences are made of or how sturdy or rickety they are, they all have something in common. Even at their smallest or biggest, shortest or tallest: none of them seem to be able to decide on their own if they're keeping things out... or keeping things in.

Here's another sweet thing about fences: the simple words "I'm on the fence on that one" is a cool strategic move. The view's nice, the air's a bit clearer and you're out of the mud. Not only can you listen to both sides from up there, you are allowed to yell rude things down.

Fences are wonderful things. They make good neighbors. They keep the riff-raff out and the good stuff in. And they are a slim margin of neutrality in an increasingly opinionated world.

Hug a fence today. Watch for the splinters and sharp bits.

The Paths Of Our Pasts

We all come from somewhere. If we are fortunate, we live where we grew up and walk the paths of our ancestors every day.

Some of us have grown away over time, been places, seen wonders and settled in distant lands.

Still, we bring remembrances of our past and stories of those who laid the flagstones of our trip through life generations ago.

While where we are now is important, who we are is built on where we come from... our roots.

And when we get a chance to visit, even in our dreams, a tiny part of our heart comes alive.

Are You A Hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobic?

Phobias. A testament to mankind's foibles. Exhibit one: a hapless dental surgeon with ergasiophobia (a fear of operating).

If you're like me and yell at kids to get off your lawn, you might have a fear of youth – ephebiphobia. Personally I don't think I suffer from anything other than memories of missing pink flamingos.

The next time you see a person with a full beard, you may justifiably wonder if he has geniophobia (the fear of chins). Ask him to touch yours. If he won't, he's a prime candidate. On the other hand, if you are invited to touch his beard in return and you break out in a sweat and start hyperventilating, perhaps you have a fear of beards (pogonophobia).

House painters who only paint white may have chromophobia (the fear of color) unless they also have leukophobia, which is the fear of white. In which case they either don't look at where they're painting or they only paint clear lacquer. Then, I suppose, they'd be limited to painting glass houses... (Moving on; before I get trapped in this paragraph...)

I once had a tanning salon client who had to take the mirrors out of her tanning booth cubicles. Naturally, I asked her if it was because her customers had eisoptrophobia (fear of mirrors), but she assured me it was because the body builders would stay in the cubicle forever, after their tanning session, flexing and admiring their muscles.

If you are shopping for a phobia, here's one that caught my interest: ergophobics have an exaggerated anxiety about work, whether they're in the workplace, called upon to do work or have to face anything associated with a typical workday. Gotta check the disability clause in my insurance policy for this one. 

And the king of all kings – phobophobia is the fear of phobias. In other words, it's the fear of fear. I hope I don't catch that one. Not that I'm afraid I will... really...

Oh, and hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia? It's the fear of long words, of course.

You can find an exhaustive list of phobias here!

Fuelishness...

With gas prices soaring up 6 – 10 cents p/l overnight, with no corresponding increase in price per barrel on the world markets, you have to wonder if this is a note from one of the gas companies (who collectively posted profits in the billions last year) ...

But wait – quick research this morning puts government taxes (2008) taking around 32% off the top of pump prices.

So maybe it's a note from the tax man...

Help me out here. Trying to understand... or maybe I'm just being fuelish.

Think I'll walk to work. Luckily, I can.

Eight Notes to Diane

"Diane, I'm holding in my hands a small box of chocolate bunnies."

"Diane, it struck me again earlier this morning, there are two things that continue to trouble me. And I'm speaking now not only as an agent of the Bureau but also as a human being. What really went on between Marilyn Monroe and the Kennedys and who really pulled the trigger on JFK?"

"Diane, never drink coffee that has been anywhere near a fish."

"Diane, 6:18 AM, room 315, Great Northern Hotel here in Twin Peaks."

"Diane, last night I dreamed I was eating a large, tasteless gumdrop, and awoke to discover I was chewing on one of my foam disposable earplugs. Perhaps I should consider moderating my nighttime coffee consumption."

"Diane, it's 4:10 in the afternoon at the scene of the crime. Here's something we haven't seen before: a mount of dirt. Approximately a foot and a half in diameter. On the top is a gold necklace with a gold heart. Correction, half a gold heart. At the base of the mount of dirt is a torn piece of news print. Written with the words, which appear to be in blood: 'fire walk with me'."

"Diane, it is 4:20 PM. I'm standing on the bank of Wind River near the location of where the body of Teresa Banks was found. Diane, this case gives me a strange feeling. Not only has Special Agent Chester Desmond dissappeared without a trace, but this is one of Cole's blue rose cases. The clues that were found by Special Agent Desmond and Agent Stanley have led to dead ends. The letter that was extracted from beneath the fingernail of Teresa Banks gives me the feeling that the killer will strike again. But like the song goes, "who knows where, or when?"

"I'm going to begin today with a headstand.
[Cooper performs said headstand]
Diane, I am now upside-down. "

This moment of an unusual nature was brought to you by FBI Special Agent Dale Cooper, Twin Peaks. Now back to your regularly scheduled blogness.