The muss, fuss, and bother of Monday morning madness — vanquished by the retreat to office where, sipping coffee, I ponder the load of work I have today. A trip through email nets potential irritants, and I close the client, moving on to checks the sites, the blogs, the forums. …Well, I start. Then, input from the tedious goads me to address some nonsense, but not quite yet. First I’m going to enjoy the quiet of my morning without fervor.
Month: September 2007
Laughter in the Morning.
It’s always nice to start the day with laughter. A good article poking fun at the state of the Bushite, some welcome news on the eco-front, a brilliant cartoon lampooning some human idiocy. Of course, then there’s that bit of joy with coffee, watching the early morning sky. This sets up breakfast, when, if the eggs turn and hub’s yolks don’t break, the happiness there is its own reward as he daintily dips the end of his sausage into the yellow.
Real, Plastic, or CGI?
Whether it is photograph of a model, an actor or actress, or a lawyer defending a high profile client, increasingly it is very difficult to tell if the person portrayed in the picture is real, a plastic model, or a cgi (a computer generated image).
This is NOT just due to cgi getting more life-like, but, rather of life becoming a mimic of cgi — the make-up, hair, and physique mimicking computer generated imaging. They’ve met in the middle, and that, for me, is very disturbing, not because of the inherent implications for fraud as much as because it sets up a very false standard for people as a role model for success.
A lot of it is due to lighting, but it also has to do with skin and bodies enhanced all over, not just the face, by make-up and surgery, well-coiffed and well-dyed hair, impeccable manicures and the like.
Check out these images and tell me which ones are real people, which are plastic, and which are CGI (computer generated):
Without cheating, even if you recognize them, which look REAL, PLASTIC, OR CGI?
| 1 | Real | Plastic | CGI |
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| 2 | Real | Plastic | CGI |
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| 3 | Real | Plastic | CGI |
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| 4 | Real | Plastic | CGI |
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| 5 | Real | Plastic | CGI |
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| 6 | Real | Plastic | CGI |
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| 7 | Real | Plastic | CGI |
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| 8 | Real | Plastic | CGI |
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| 9 | Real | Plastic | CGI |
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| 10 | Real | Plastic | CGI |
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Now, check your answers.
3, 5, and 10 are CGI.
All the rest are real EXCEPT #2 which is a plastic, life-sized clothes mannequin.
How did you do?
What do you think about this trend and its significance?
A Meal with Prejudice
Dining with colleagues at a local establishment exposed us to the depth and breadth of local prejudice that is running rampant outside what I’ll term the PC zone. (Definition of a PC zone: All places where one must exhibit the trappings of tolerance and social propriety in order to maintain butter on one’s bread, else lose substantial income.)
We became victim to the proximity of lawyers and business owners who, thinking themselves somehow “off the record,” began to berate and spew hate-speak against anyone and everyone, from Native Americans to Germans, from Chinese to Irish, from English to Polish to Arab to African, and especially against blacks, homosexuals, and women. Obviously together even though they were spread over several tables, these bigots even grinned over at us who are a group of individuals who vary in skin color and sex. It seemed they knew they were being offensive and were totally enjoying themselves.
Then they began talking down anyone who wasn’t Christian. And, after that, came the vilifying of Catholics, Mormons, Christian Scientists, and other recognized Christian denominations who aren’t particularly well-thought-of by the more fundamental. This wasn’t particularly problematic for anyone at our table since most of us are either not affiliated with any religion whatsoever, or, if we are, we keep it to ourselves, well-used to this sort of biased speech.
However, we had, as a group, became very silent. What had been lively, vivacious conversation about progress in our various interests, organizations, and occupations became an embarrassed silence — embarrassment for them and their stupidity.
At the onset of all of this, one of the most locally prominent members of our group who had his back to the rest of the restaurant, glanced around, then pulled out a small box and placed it beside his plate. Lights danced. He then pulled out his cell phone and held it up before him as if it were a mirror. A flash went off.
He had a small, coy smile on his face as he tucked his cell phone away. We ate on in silence.
After awhile, the conversation around us lulled and dulled. Mr. Prominent switched off the box beside his plate, stuffed it into his suit coat pocket, and smiled around the table. “How about dessert?” he asked. Then, “By the way, did you know that, when it comes to recording conversations, we’re a one-party consent state?”
Sipping Coffee
I sat sipping coffee as a manuscript was going through an evaluation process. I also half-listened to a conversation happening over my shoulder…about that editorial process — young women sissy-whispering about who that might be with that manuscript box loaded with postage and whose manuscript was being evaluated.
Pages were sifted and shifted by the editor, notes checked, references made, and an occasional comment jotted. With each new development, the surreptitious audience got a little louder…and louder…and louder…until, finally, the editor looked over at them, frowned, and asked them exactly what it was they found so stimulating that they felt it necessary to make themselves a nuisance.
I expected the brazen young ladies to slink down out of sight, or at least turn their heads and muffle it. To my surprise, they scooted their chairs nearer and started to ask questions, chattering on and on about how they were writing books and…well, you know, pouring their details out as if pitching an agent. They didn’t even pause long enough upon asking something to give space enough for an answer to happen in between their incessant, burbling chatter.
ADD I wondered? Too much sugar? (Both were drinking sweetened beverages.) Or was it just too much self-infatuation?
If you want answers, you’ve got to listen and, then, hear.