When the public education system goes out of its way to indoctrinate our young children, promoting McDonald’s and Burger King in songs and ditties to Kindergartners, when junk food laden with sugar, produced by Beatrice under all its various labels is proliferated as healthy in school classrooms, hallways and cafeterias, promoted as good eating by teachers, one really must wonder. Where have I witnessed this from firsthand experience? A mom whose child was enrolled at Washington School, Sandpoint, Idaho, that child since removed from said school and placed into the Idaho Virtual Academy instead, which is proving itself first-rate as a good, solid education, and not promoting corporate interests and the dumbing down of our children that is now rampant throughout the public school system in the US.
Category: Grimace & Giggle
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?”
And Speaking of Boring, Writers…
I’m trying to reopen The Deepening, not as an online fiction magazine, but as a stimulating place to discover the joys of reading fiction. I have a category called Peek Behind the Scenes which is supposed to give a look into the creative minds responsible for the stories. Unfortunately, nothing much comes up in the way of “interesting” when it comes to many writers. Most writers are REALLY BORING. A look at their forums and their blogs will confirm this if you doubt me.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I know authors who ARE exciting people. Their minds are constantly abuzz with what-ifs, they are forever rolling out new ideas, playing with possibilities, toying with potentials. A few. Some really good ones, too. But the majority? Omigod. Dry, boring, awful. The only thing coming out of their fingers when it isn’t fiction is their medical history, their love life, and their daily routines from brushing their teeth to their craving for adulation and praise (“Pweez, pweez, wuv my stories and gimme lotz and lotz of muny.”)
I’m sorry, but if the best thing an author has to offer as insight is some sappy, giddiness about how much they totally adore the false flattery given them by some reviewer they paid, or, worse, some whiny moan about how hard it is to get published, nobody cares, especially me. What I want to hear is how they conceive their worlds, what generates an idea to form itself into a plot, what drives them to create characters and how they make them so real that their readers want to know more and more about those characters.
What drives the ideas? What music, sounds, visions, happenings? What happens inside them to make such magic happen with words (if what they do is any good, that is…which, for the majority who call themselves writers, isn’t)?
What do I see and hear from writers, though?
“I’ve got an adorable baby, a husband, a cat, and a dog. I live in Anytown, AnyCountry. I want to be rich and famous someday. I love my new patio, and my favorite color is red.”
OR
“I’m simply the most marvelous thing since chocolate syrup. You really will love my new book called Sonya’s Sunshine Dream and you need to buy a copy over at BlankDotCom where all my books are published by DumbSap Publishing.”
OR
“Those rotten publishers and agents won’t even look at my book. They didn’t even have the courtesy to respond to my query until over six months after I sent it in. And then they said no. I mean, sure their guidelines say ninety days, but I’m special….”
Um…get a life?
Of course, artists aren’t much better, and neither are muscians, but, right now, I’m ranting on writers because it seems to me that I should be able to look somebody up and they should have more in their bio and on their blog than “I’m married and have two kids…,” “My eczema is better,” “I just finished tidying up my closet…,” or “I just got rejected again….”
Nobody cares. Really. Give us some insights into what catalyzes your creativity, what excites you, what makes you write a pulse-pounding story. Else, hang it up. Don’t say anything. That would do you less harm.
Whelp, Yup, He Done Did Break It!
So Friday…hubby broke his pedal. No, not the guitar pedal, not the car pedal, not the bicycle pedal. His foot — he broke his foot.
Now, after x rays, after doctors conferring, he’s literally “on ice and immobilized” until the swelling reduces enough that the orthopedist feels confident that it can be cast.
I’ve got a feeling that this isn’t going to be any of those nice take-it-off/put-it-on casts, either. I’m betting they do one of those fiberglass numbers — rigid and lots of fun in the shower. Hubs is a big man, and the joint got shattered into itty bitty pieces.
Needless to say, I’m not getting much work done. I’m not getting much of anything done. He needs lots of TLC and tending.
“Honey, can you get me a soda? …Can you get me a sandwich? Can you get my painkillers? Can you….”
So now I’m gonna be even further behind on my various need-tos/have-tos. Hubs comes first. Always. Don’t you wish every “other half” felt that way? Well, don’t marry until you and your choice are both over thirty, and then work at it. Remember, all that matters is the love, and also, when it comes to differences of perspective, is your point and your stance in the conflict worth more than your relationship? Probably not, so don’t fuss the small stuff, okay?
Good.
Several things, though: Don’t marry someone who prefers alcohol, drugs, or sports, never marry anyone who “gets physical,” and definitely do NOT marry anyone just because the sex is good. Really.