North and South

I would like to highlight an err in reasoning on my part that occurred today.

"Is Wellington south of us?" asked one of my coworkers.

"Yes," I replied.


I try to be a thinker, and if I had to pick just one thing that separated thinkers from non-thinkers; it would be that thinkers think, and non-thinkers non-think. I have put alot of thought into thinking lately, and had many thoughtful, thought-provoking, well-thought out thoughts about what I think is a forgotten thought-process (I think). Thinkers never accept things at face-value (especially since most of them have acne, which dramatically reduces their face-value to about 27.3). I accepted this north/south issue at face-value. What was I thinking?

There is no correct answer when asked about the cardinal directions, meaning compass directions--not "Ya sed that red burd waz ware?" directions. Our north is someone else's south. So the next time I'm asked if Wellington is south of me, I'm going to be a thinker and answer their question with another question:

"Well, what is North? And what is South?"

Will they think I'm obnoxious?

Maybe, but at least I won't be lying to them.

"I can quote things," he said

I noticed recently that I am very observant.

Whoa, hang on, that makes it true, right? I know a self-validating hypothesis when I see one, and that one is so conspicuous it might as well be wearing hunter orange.

Speaking of hunter orange, I took a 12-point buck recently with a bow. Pictures and video are pending.
Peace out

MRI (Mostly Really Incarcerating)

I'm pretty sure I know what a piece of copy paper feels like.





I have injured my left knee...again. This makes number three in two years. I thought they fixed it last time when they ripped a pre-owned ACL out of some dead guy and gave it to me, but apparently not (Don't let my misfortune dissuade you from becoming a donor).
The best part about knee injuries happens right before the injury. You know, the part where you're scampering happily down the football field, thinking, "This is so fun and safe." Then all hell, in conjunction with their corresponding ligaments, breaks loose and you hit the dirt.
The inevitable MRI occurred earlier this week. I had forgotten how much I dislike MRI's. All the buzzing, clanking, whirring, snapping, and--at least in my case--screaming that accompanies the procedure makes you feel like you're driving a 2009 Chrysler...well...anything really.
Can anyone relate? If you've ever been locked inside a Xerox machine, you have a pretty good idea. It's hotter than two field mice doing it in a wool sock in July in there, and you don't even get mouse-babies out of the deal. You get a picture of smeared, staticky, steak shards. And after all this, the doctor will say, "Well, the initial examination has proven inconclusive as to your actual condition. We're going to need to do a CT scan..."
Forget that, man. I'm doing my own scans from now on. Anyone have a used copier I can borrow?

I can pay you in mouse-babies.

My Youtube channel

Hey folks, my new Flip camera has begun to yield some interesting videos, and there are many more to come.
Be sure to check it out occasionally
youtube.com/suzukityler