brainflak.com

Royal stage

I have it on good authority that if I sit here long enough, my body heat being sucked through my butt into the cold stone floor, this place will be crawling with princesses. I just hope my daughter and wife get back here by that time, or I’ll look a bit odd. I wouldn’t want folks to think that I had an inappropriate interest in princesses. Then again, that Jasmine seems pretty cool. And I do have a message for Belle: Get thee to the House of Ruth, girl. Seriously – you can’t fix him, and you don’t have to tolerate the abuse. Just get out.

Entitlement

Now, I hardly need point out that I’m not one of those right-wing, quasi-Randian freaks who decry the creeping slime of Entitlement, and who assert that human beings are by no means entitled to such luxuries as healthcare, food, air, skin, etc. but must scrabble for them in the big nasty crab-bucket of the holy Market and wrest them from the sweaty grip of their fellow lumpenproletarians. That’s not me. People are entitled to all of those things and a great many more, IMHO. My daughter is in addition entitled to a pedestal, naked dining, mountains of toys, chilled beverages, Kiki’s Delivery Service, etc., as illustrated. :-]

Scene 1: the Panda, visiting a bookstore with Daddy, runs at him full tilt and buries her face in his butt. Then…

Panda: “Daddy, I smell your bottom!”
Daddy: “Well, then, you should probably take your face out of it. And you know, it may not be polite to mention such a thing.”
Panda (after the briefest pause): “I meant that it smells good!“
Daddy: “Really? That’s extraordinary.”
Panda: “I love you, Daddy.”

Scene 2: as we drive around in a parking structure…

Panda (impatiently): “Where are we going?“
Daddy: “I’m trying to get us to the exit, sweetie.”
Panda (in mock exasperation, clearly quoting something): “You’re hopeless!“
Daddy: “Good heavens! What a thing to say to your father!”
Panda: “I was talking to my dolly.”

A trivial observation: today I am the Johnny Appleseed of baby wipes.

Not that many people use cloth diapers, and I imagine that a substantial portion of those use washcloths for baby bottom wiping instead of disposable baby wipes, so it should remain mysterious. Here’s the deal: I often use disposable baby wipes with our baby’s cloth diapers, and we toss them in the laundry with the diapers themselves, so they come out of the wash and dry process clean, fluffy, and charged with lots of static electricity. Sometimes they stick to our clothing, and in fact I found one on my shirt early this morning.

But they are wily creatures. Through the course of this morning at the office, I have spotted no less than three of these on the floor (two in halls and one in a conference room) that I must have dropped from my clothing. probably no one knows what they are, but if they have actually witnessed the process of my shedding one, who knows what they think? As I leave these little white squares around my environment, I doubt I’m leaving a good impression along with them. But when the attractive and useful Baby Wipe Trees start sprouting up, they’ll thank me.

This is your brain on post-Fordist capitalism

Rapidly accelerating cycles of capital under a regime of flexible accumulation + increasingly decentralized computing environment with many overlapping distributed applications + 4 hours of sleep + 180mg of caffeine = the pictured state of my consciousness

overblown political economy jargon + semiabused IT jargon + digestive difficulties = silly blog post from a tiled room * TMI

  
Big Ol’ Kids

In this photo Panda and Boo, who against all reason just keep getting larger and more unpredictable, enjoy the conviviality of a shared meal. Boo looked curiously at her big sister from time to time, as if wondering “why does she get to be naked?”

Note: does the simple joy I get from taking a picture on my Palm phone, sending it to my Flickr account, having it automatically posted on my WordPress blog and echoed to my LiveJournal make me a pathetic geek? No. It makes me a simple, easily pleased geek.

And yes, there is a difference.

Kind of.