Social Engineer Santa

As a child, I thought that anyone who believed in Santa Clause was either putting on a big show, or was very very stupid. I was never quite sure which it was, though I could make good guesses about it with certain people. Unfortunately, I found out that most of the cases involved the people being very very stupid. This was verified by the fact that our visit would be followed by an angry phone call to our parents.

I don't specifically recall being told that Santa was not real, but I never had trouble validating my convictions that Santa was indeed a fictional being. It always seemed so black and white and elemental that I didn't understand where the confusion came in. I always went through a step by step breakdown of facts, and proceeded to shatter their small and narrow thought zone with brutal stingingly cold truth.

First of all, there is no such thing as "magic". "Magic" is supposedly the force that cannot be seen, heard, smelled, or touched except by the effects of it, in much the same was as energy as we know it exists. It also cannot be handled by any being which is not "magic" itself. And magic is the basis of all that Santa operates on, therefore everything from here on is automatically disproven by default, but we shall continue.

Second, there are no such beings as "elves". Midgets, yes. Little people, yes. Dwarves, yes. Elves, no. "Elves" thrive on magic, and, as was just stated, magic does not exist. Also pointy shoes, pointy hats, and green outfits hardly seem appropriate attire for the North Pole climate.

Third, reindeer cannot fly. I doubt that they could even if magic was real. They just aren't built for it, what with the antlers and hooves and all. They scream of aerodynamic inefficiency.

Fourth, the trip around the earth to every house. This is always the main point cited, but I will review anyway without getting into any major details. The laws of physics as developed by Einstein states that an object may approach, but not breach, the speed of light. Due to inertia, Santa obviously cannot be traveling at the speed of light the entire trip, plus the fact that he must actually stop at houses. He must accelerate to speed and decelerate to a stop for each house, which no doubt takes time. Do this for every house, and time adds up.

Which led me to my fifth argument, The stop. According to geometry, it is impossible to fit your typical fat man down a typical chimney. This is assuming that you have a chimney, which is not nearly the case these days. Indeed, it would be difficult to fit a skinny man down a chimney. Then you have the gift factor. They need to fit down the chimney along with a fat guy somehow. And this is to say nothing of getting back up onto the roof.

Sixth, why would a guy who pleads complete anonymity dress in red and put bells all over his transportation?

Seventh, why is the world not covered in reindeer turds on Christmas morning? Considering the amount of energy in the form of food that they must consume in order to fly at the speed of light, you would think that waste energy would be everywhere.

Thus we begin the psychological reasoning.

Eighth, What sort of sickness possesses a man to work every day, all day, no vacations, no exceptions, and still remain jolly all year long? A sane man would most certainly not act in such manner.

Ninth, what sort of social engineering mastermind pervert can convince millions of little children to write letters to him? Even worse, what kind of sick person actually sneaks into their house at night and eats their cookies and milk?
Two words: Mentally Disturbed.

Tenth, how could one man single handedly overthrow a race of little people, force them into oppressive slave labor under the guise supreme magical being, move them all to the North pole with huge infrastructure and logistical support, and keep the whole operation a secret to the public, yet at the same time, remain a huge public icon? (I know, it sounds a bit like Clinton, but not really. Gore was the magical one, having created the internet and all. Therefore, there is a major discrepancy)

After going through most of this with other children, they usually turned pale. I think that what I learned from that is that people enjoy being stupid. They don't want to know the truth. They would rather dwell in their own little fuzzy world of theirs. I guess being stupid is easier than being smart. It is also simpler. But I don't want to get into a discussion with myself here. It is Christmas Eve's Eve, after all.

I hope I made at least one little kid cry this Christmas. If not, I'll have to hold a mock execution of elmo in front of the daycare center up the street tomorrow.

Monday Bloody Monday

Today is Monday. A part of my usual Monday routine is to finish up school, maybe use the computer for a while, then practice my Violin for a good long time, then head out to NYO orchestra rehearsal. Since we had our winter concert last week, there is no rehearsal tonight. Since it is also the Christmas and New Years season, we will not have any rehearsals until January. I already feel like my week is empty and void, since I don't have to kill myself practicing all week long, at least compared to the past two/three weeks practicing amount. I miss my buddies already. I need someone to laugh at. I need someone to cry over hard music with. I need someone to make sour faces from sour notes at.

Who would have thought that I would miss sitting straight up for over an hour and getting yelled at for playing wrong?

The perfect Christmas?

James asked a trivial question tonight that went as follows: "What are your usual Christmas traditions, and what would be your ideal Christmas tradition?". Most people stated what their typical yearly Christmas eve and Christmas day was like, and the things that they do, and most decided to keep it (relatively) the same, as I did also. The thought that there could possibly be something better was a new one. I knew that other people did different things, but better? I don't think so. So it got me thinking about what the all-time greatest Christmas morning/day would be. I came up with this.

After falling asleep in your bed on Christmas Eve, you would wake up with the roar of four giant turbofan engines and air blowing by at 180mph in the back of a C-130 with the rear ramp open to the air and a guy in a helmet yelling at the top of his lungs "GO GO GO!!!". You jump up, run for the ramp, and dive out head first. You spread out your arms and legs and fly with your webbed aero suit. Then flaming meteors start flying down all over the place, and you dodge them while falling at 350mph. You crash into a whale and manatee show at seaworld and make the whales explode, coating the 10,000 onlookers with whale entrails. The whole crowd and an army of environmentalists chase after you with pitchforks and sticks. You jump into a monster truck and drive through the city over everyone's cars with the mad horde in pursuit. Then one of the meteors smashes a building down right in front of you. You drive on top of it and yell a massive battle cry through the giant megaphone strapped to the top of your truck. Then a giant tanker ship crashes on the shore and spills 50,000 tons of oil all over the city. Someone's cell phone rings. The whole city goes up in monster sized flames. Then some guy's 10,000 square foot weed nursery goes up in flames and everyone gets high. The whole world is shifting rainbow colors. You join a horde of pirates who are ransacking the city, and run around, spitting in little kids faces. Suddenly, a giant earthquake happens and a huge pit emerges in the middle of the city. A giant superdome rises up from the middle with Elvis, The Beatles, Queen, U2, Five Iron Frenzy, Jimi Hendrix, and Mozart on the stage, all rocking out with a huge fog machine and a giant laser show with lasers so powerful that they cut the moon in half. Then Russia goes totally communist and shoots nuclear weapons all over the city. Everything has an eery glow to it, even without the weed. Suddenly, Santa comes flying through the laser show on a supercharged sleigh and rocks an insane guitar solo on stage. Then he shoots presents out to the whole crowd with a huge gift cannon.


Merry Christmas.


EDIT: Of course, since Santa is indeed not real, that makes this whole thing totaly ridiculous.

Christmas

Since it is legitimately Christmas season, I am finally writing this post. I have been waiting a long time to be able to re-focus attention to Christmasy junk. I just love this season. There are so many things that go along with Christmas that you don't get any other time of the year.

Believe it or not, even though I have had it in a very prominent position on a highly trafficked area on my harddrive, I have had the self control of not playing it until now. I actually waited a whole year before playing it so that I would appreciate it more. You must first savor this. Great great music, there. Amazing stuff. Suburb visuals. Now, some more classic music. Just when you think things can't possibly become any better, they do (thanks to me).

I live for that. When I grow up, I want to have a job just like him.

Yes, my room is decorated to the brink with ocular stimulation strand technology. I'm loving it (No, that isn't Burger King. That is McDonalds).

Of Monitors

I have great sympathy and respect for my monitor. It is a very passive part of the computer experience. In an ideal situation, you never need to touch your monitor. It just sits there, sending light out to you. All day long, relaying information seventy times per second without break. And even when the computer is idle, most likely the screen saver will come on. Thus, rather than shutting it down and giving it a break, it plays a bunch of bad pictures that someone took of flowers, or lame sunsets, or someone's "aw3s0me 1ng4m3 scr33nz". So, even if it is a really masculine 21 incher, or a sleek new 17in LCD, if it happens to get stuck with some girly girl it has to suffer the indignity of displaying these things. And unlike harddrives, they have to openly show them to everyone. They cannot hide within the case.

Even worse still is the fact that they have no choice in the information they display. It could be showing good news for you, or bad news for you. And we, as spontaneous impulse-driven idiots, tend to take out our rage on the bringer of news. The metaphorical messenger.
Us humans would hate to inflict sudden strong impulse force on the case, because we know all of the expensive and fragile parts that are on the inside. Especially since we paid for them. And our "messenger" is still right in front of our face delivering the bad news. Unfortunately (fortunately?) for them, 21 in monitors are built very sturdily (I think I just invented a word).

I have dealt many blows to my monitor. Usually a right straight to the center of the glass. I've delivered a few hammer fists to the top and a couple left hooks to the side, but most are limited to the front, since that seems to be the place most likely *not* to break. It isn't that I hate, or begin to hate, the monitor or the computer itself. It is just a very convenient place to vent frustration.

I've felt some serious pain in my knuckles a couple times after doing that. At those times, it almost seems as if that 70 lb monitor is laughing at me, rocking back and forth and such. This is when I get the impulse to throw the monitor and/or the computer itself out the second story window. I will tell you that this has not happened yet. Although I have replaced my 21in with two 17in monitors, making it much easier to pick up and heave, so I will keep you posted.

It is for this exact reason that I keep a stash of old 1.5Gb harddrives that no longer work. I have come *very* (read with extreme emphasis) close to having to make use of. The plan is to take a Hdd, retrieve a sledge hammer, place said hdd in the middle of the road, put them both together (literally).



Monitors: The unsung heroes of the workplace, homeplace, bathroom, and of the world. I tip my hat to you.

The Wiz marathon is over. A week filled to the brink with practices.

It makes me wish that I knew how to play the guitar, bass guitar, piano, trumpet, drums, and (skillfully) the violin.