Ray Bradbury said, ""

Observe the Solitary Human Male As He Ritualistically Manipulates Miniature Idols

I've got a half-gallon of egg nog, abundant coffee in which to put it, a cheesecake, a chessboard, and a half-baked idea about describing piece position/value relationships by means of vectors. In addition to notation for some famous matches, my night is well nigh full.

Yeah. The single life may be lonely at times, but at least I don't have to share my coffee or knife-fight anyone over a slice of cheesecake.

Update: Maybe the vector idea is not so half-baked after all. Each board configuration and piece relationship within it may be represented by vectors whose transformation operators preserve piece-value parity between sides (White doesn't generally want to sacrifice a queen to save a pawn, etc). Optimally, each attack should expose to threat no more valuable a piece than it targets. In sexy mathematics, this ought to be a unitary transformation, affecting position but leaving piece-value invariant. In even sexier mathematics, it ought to be possible to discover position-space eigenvectors for moves which minimize wasteful sacrifices. Could it be possible to divide the pieces each into their own group representations? Embed this process into an alpha-beta pruning algorithm and you ought to have an efficient way of monitoring the wisdom of moves. This is all, however, just an excuse for me to play around with generalized decision-making algorithms instead of approaching The Isiah's specific chip architecture problem as an engineer would.

If you think this is an overcerebral idea of chess, check out what the Math Department at Harvard is doing.

Posted by: Tom "The Pooklekufr" Treloar at November 30, 2007 18:27 EST | Permalink | comments (1) |
life, blog nocturne, geekery

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Book Meme of the Damned

I'm starting yet another book meme: list the book or books you are currently reading for fun. No mandatory brain fuel. Here's my list:

S. Dasgupta's Algorithms
E.T. Bell's Development of Mathematics
David Bohm's Quantum Theory
Larry Wall's Programming Perl
F.A. Hayek's The Constitution of Liberty
Barron's Dictionary of Mathematics Terms
James Newman's The World of Mathematics
Joseph Heller's Closing Time
Thomas Szasz's Law, Liberty, and Psychiatry
Asa Chandler's Introduction to Parasitology
Dean Koontz's Fear Nothing
Dean Koontz's Seize the Night
Robert Bork's The Tempting of America
Douglas Adams' Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

I'm throwing this angry kitten at Mgrhetos, Roma, and Norman. Why these people? Because I want to see whether these poor collegiate wretches can still grab entertainment during Finals Weeks.

If you overworked slaves respond, try sending this meme to some other brain-weary students.

Posted by: Tom "The Pooklekufr" Treloar at November 29, 2007 22:26 EST | Permalink | comments (6) |
books, memery, blog nocturne, geekery

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Not So Late Pseudo-Random Thoughts

I dare you to listen to "Hey Pachuco" and not swagger afterwards. I dread putting it onto my MP3 player for fear I will swagger into people on the street.

Same goes for the 5 6 7 8's' Woo Hoo.

I constructed a simple branch-and-bound/minimax chess algorithm. I wonder if I can make a heuristic algorithm for chess based on evolving weights for pieces of both sides. The key is to avoid as much as possible a brute-force wastefulness, while at the same time encouraging stochastic strategies. I've got to find Turing and Neumann's "paper programmes" for chess.

In John Scalzi's excellent Old Man's War trilogy, soldiers are given cybernetic brain prostheses that enable real-time computational resources and communication. Those soldiers who have been "born" with these prostheses, go into shock and catatonia if these implants cease to work; it is as if they are suddenly deprived of a huge part of their consciousness. I noticed that when I am not going online, I feel withdrawal symptoms. The internet has become my long-term memory; without online access I feel lobotomized, always aware of the oceans of information I am not currently accessing. I will bet that with increasing technology, not being able to access the internet will actually produce mental illness as people attempt to cope with drastically reduced mental resources. I would imagine that, someday, being offline will feel much like the aftermath of a stroke.

While visiting my mom for Thanksgiving, I found that she had gone religiously nutty over the past two years as a defensive mechanism against a series of unfortunate events. You know that type of nutty, where you can tell the person has spent more time reading the Book of Revelations than all the rest of the Bible combined? I have never understood how, in every religion, some portion of believers apparently derive more religious satisfaction from the contemplation of death, destruction, mortality, and apocalypse, than from the contemplation of Man's eternal struggle to improve himself in G-d's eyes. Name one single religion that holds as a matter of belief that Mankind has an infinite time ahead of us in order to learn, explore, and create, asymptotically reaching moral and scientific perfection. What would religion look like without death-worship and the assurance of apocalypse? What would religion look like if it appealed to those in good fortune as much as those in times of need?

Speaking of religion and my mom's idea of Christianity: why is it that some group of believers in every religion sieze upon the anecdotes and prophecies at the expense of the moral lessons? You would think that Deuteronomy and the Sermon on the Mount would be a Christian's primary texts, dealing as they do with how one should live a moral life. But for my mom, they are secondary to the incomprehensible poetic-Greek apocalyptic gobbledygook of the Book of Revelations. Something has gone seriously wrong if you no longer notice that the sole purpose of religion is to induce morality and justice.

One last note about my mom's religion: were she to be deprived of the "No True Irishman" fallacy, her every argument would break down.

Posted by: Tom "The Pooklekufr" Treloar at November 29, 2007 19:32 EST | Permalink | comments |
religion, blog nocturne

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I Swear, Alex Trebek Stole My Wallet!

The Isiah: You know how many people just disappear? Teenagers who probably went to join a hippy commune, villages in the Dark Ages that just vanish in the midst of a plague, forgotten little tribes eking out an existence in the middle of nowhere? In my story I want to write, they're herded onto new planets by future humans in the multiverse to spread genetic variation.

Me: No one does notice them.

TI: You know, if I were an alien, I really would give anal probes to people. No one would ever believe them afterwards.

Me: "An alien wearing a Richard Nixon mask gave me an anal probe while Barry White music played! He really did!"

TI: "Better give this one some extra thorazine."

TI: Remember that X-Files episode where the story is shot from various conflicting points of view, each one making no sense, and one of the people claims Alex Trebek and a bunch of thugs strong-armed him? Same principle.

Me: You're visiting the city and you see Woody Allen, wearing a gorilla suit, rip the heart out of a hobo.

TI: "Officer, I swear it was Woody Allen. In a gorilla suit."

TI:"If he was in a gorilla suit, how did you know it was him?"

TI:"He wasn't wearing the mask, duh!"

TI: But I really did see Woody Allen.

Me: I'm surprised he let you live.

Posted by: Tom "The Pooklekufr" Treloar at November 29, 2007 17:24 EST | Permalink | comments |

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In the Beginning

I asked G-d, "How do algorithms work?"

He said, "You won't like the answer."

I asked why.

He said, "I could explain it to you, but it would take O(e^n100100) years."

I told him I had to get some lunch, and got the hell out of there.

Posted by: Tom "The Pooklekufr" Treloar at November 29, 2007 16:40 EST | Permalink | comments |
geekery

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n log n

Blogging will be rather light for the next week as I delve into algorithms.

Posted by: Tom "The Pooklekufr" Treloar at November 17, 2007 18:57 EST | Permalink | comments |
blogging

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If PKD Had Written It, There'd Be Alot More Head-Scratching

The next movie you watch, ask yourself what it would be like if Phillip K. Dick had made it. This is a source of neverending amusement to me and my friends.

"If Phillip K Dick had made this movie, he would have figured out a way to work in Michael J. Fox's ailment. Time travel would have given Martie McFly Parkinson's. He would spasm, fall out of the Delorean, and land on himself mowing an infinite and perfectly maintained topiary. Then he'd discover Doc's head growing out of his chest."

"Imagine if Frank Capra had known Phillip K. Dick. George Bailey would, moments after making his wish, be thrust into the lipid smog of a concentration camp. The rest of the movie would be a still of him being shovelled into a furnace. At the end, you realize that he is actually G-d."

"PKD would have cast William Shatner in every single role, with tiny cosmetic changes to indicate which character he was. He would still speak like William Shatner, regardless. Half-way through, William Shatner dies, Leonard Nimoy takes over, and the Nimoy-characters mourn the passing in a huge orgy. When Spock dies in the reactor chamber, the movie starts playing backwards until the beginning credits."

"Not to disparage Hitchcock, but PKD would have improved it. Instead of a broken leg, he'd be in a vegetative state. Instead of binoculars, he'd be using telepathy. Instead of a neighbor killing his wife, there'd be a galactic conspiracy of interdimensional time-travelling leprous hamsters, who are all named Doug. At the end, all the transfinite Dougs would leap into his body and force him to feed his beautiful girlfriend to his wheelchair."

"Groundhog Day. A perfect movie. How do you improve it? You find out he is the groundhog."

"Bambi is actually the hunter's homosexual alter ego. The last fifteen minutes are a live-action sequence showing the hunter in a fugue atop a belfry, aiming at schoolchildren. Each child is wearing a little hat with antlers. During this sequence, the only sound effect is a whooping Gestapo siren."

Posted by: Tom "The Pooklekufr" Treloar at November 11, 2007 22:40 EST | Permalink | comments |
humor, satire

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You're So Vain You Think This Post Is About You

Me: That song, "You're So Vain," does some kind of Godelization number on my brain. That strange loop makes me feel like my eyes are going to explode.

The Isiah: "You're so vain you think this song is about you." The other song is about him. Maybe she's holding a record in her hand, pointing to it while singing.

Me: No, the video doesn't give any nonverbal ques. Believe me, I've checked. None of her other songs are entitled, "This Song," either. Vanity implies a mistaken belief in self-importance. She is actually saying, "You mistakenly believe this song is about you." I've gone through the semantics- cow₁ is not cow₂- of it: what if the first "you" is plural, equivalent to "y'all in the audience," and the second "you" is singular, applying to that set of those listeners who the song is about... look at this Venn diagram...

The Isiah: Remember the necessary and sufficient conditions of knowledge. His belief is neither true, nor justified-

Me: Tried the epistemological approach. If she had used the word "know," then I could apply the full powers of epistemological analysis to prove that there would be no strange loop. But his mindset is not important: what is relevant is that it is mistaken.

The Isiah: What do you mean?

Me: Suppose I wrote a song with the lyrics, "Isiah is so paranoid he thinks I'm out to get him," and then it went to #1 on the Billboard chart. I make huge royalties off it and buy a mansion and an albino tiger. Wouldn't you say that I really am getting rich by being out to get you, regardless of whether you believe I am?

The Isiah: Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they're out to get you.

Me: Exactly. There is a set of paranoid people, and a subset of which really do have people out to get them. Their paranoia is not relevant, only the objective fact of whether someone is out to get them. She is making an objective statement independent of his mindset.

The Isiah: I think it hinges on "about." Suppose I wrote a book about a guy named John who went to Canisius College and then worked at a garbage dump. The book is about John, but is isomorphic to you. The implicit aboutness is a loophole- the song is only indirectly about the vain person.

Me: Even implicit reference is covered by the mistaken belief of vanity.

The Isiah: I'll give you four arguments explaining it.

[Time passes]

Me: Those are invalid. Let's apply Bayesian probability. What is the probability that the song is about him given that he is vain. What is the probability that given that product probability, she believes he is mistaken about his belief?

The Isiah: This conversation is giving me a headache.

Me: I feel an awkward silence coming on.

The Isiah:

The Isiah: He. Another strange loop.

Me: No, I really do.

The Isiah:

Me:

Posted by: Tom "The Pooklekufr" Treloar at November 10, 2007 15:25 EST | Permalink | comments |
conversations

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Klaatu on the O'Reilly Factor

For The Isiah, reposted from back when my blog was funny.

O'Reilly: Welcome back to the O'Reilly Factor, I'm Bill O'Reilly. On the impact segment tonight - are illegal aliens burdening our healthcare system, endangering our elective system, and putting us at risk of terrorism? Joining us is ambassador Klaatu from the Galactic Confederation. Klaatu has been on the Factor before and I appreciate his pithiness, but I have serious issues with his position on immigration enforcement. Klaatu, welcome to the Factor. Does illegal immigration pose a threat to the United States?

Klaatu: It is a pleasure to be back. Bill, the universe has grown smaller every day, and the threat of aggression by any group, anywhere, can no longer be tolerated. There must be security for all, or no one is secure. Our race of law-enforcing robots can ensure that immigration presents absolutely no harm to your United States. There need be no threat of an open border with ten foot tall robots protecting you.

O'Reilly: Do you really believe the folks at home will accept ten foot tall police robots?! C'mon, Klaatu! I'm not seein' the blue-collar guy putting a 'I Support my Ten Foot Tall Police Robot" sticker on his windshield, and neither do you.

Klaatu: Your ancestors knew that freedom from coercion is the prerequisite for survival, when they made laws to govern themselves, and hired policemen to enforce them. We, of the other planets, have long accepted this principle. We have an organization for the mutual protection of all planets, and for the complete elimination of aggression. The test of any such higher authority, is, of course, the police force that supports it. For our policemen, we created a race of robots, incapable of human errors. To reject our robots means more than the total nuclear annihilation of the earth- it means the rejection of technological improvements to existing institutions. Tell me, Bill- why do you drive a car instead of a buggy?

O'Reilly: Whoa, whoa, whoa!! Wait a second here, Klaatu- did you say 'total nuclear annihilation of the earth?' The folks out there will not stand that for a moment, Klaatu! You tried this scare tactic in a Playboy interview last November where you said, "I came here to give you these facts. It is no concern of ours how you run your own planet. But if you threaten to extend your violence, this Earth of yours will be reduced to a burned-out cinder." Do you deny that you threatened the folks at home with a nuclear holocaust?

Klaatu: Of course I do not deny it. Gort alone can irradiate the entire western hemisphere on my orders.

O'Reilly: You're not scaring me, Klaatu. Kofi Annan already threatened that at the last UN Summit on Human Rights.

Klaatu: Now, this does not mean giving up any freedom, except the freedom to act irrespons-

O'Reilly: You're spinning, sir, you're spinning! What makes you think you have the right to threaten the extermination of the human race?

Klaatu: My army of ten foot tall atomic robots.

O'Reilly: I have to say that disturbs me, but you kept it pithy so I'll send you a signed copy of "Who's Looking Out For You."

Klaatu: I appreciate the gesture. And I will reciprocate by offering you a signed copy of my book, "A Ten Foot Tall Atomic Robot Is Looking Out For You."

O'Reilly: We have to take a break. We'll be back with Klaatu and his view on illegal aliens in a moment.

Posted by: Tom "The Pooklekufr" Treloar at November 10, 2007 01:17 EST | Permalink | comments |
humor, best posts

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Friday Night Pseudo-Random Thoughts

The average American watches 8 hours of tv a day. Assume that just one hour of that is composed of idiotic commercials. In one year, he will have spent two weeks of his life watching scantily-clad women sell petfood, balding celebrities hawk footwear, and politicians spew attack ads at each other. In 13 years, he will have spent a total of one year trying not to throw a shoe at the screen. To put perspective on this cumulative waste of time, a 40 year old man with a toddler will have spent more time watching commercials than he has been a father.

Ilkka posted an interesting question: assume the amount of computer code cumulatively written since the first digital computers is a time-dependant function M(T). If my computer uses n amount of code in one hour, how many years of computational capacity does that represent? When does n = M(t)? He guesses the amount of code used in a casual internet surfing session may equal all programming code written before 1969. This made me wonder: applying this to Brandon Carter's Doomsday Bayesian argument, how many lines of code will humans write before we go extinct (assuming a monotonically increasing function, that is, no intervening nuclear holocausts and periods of barbarism)?



What do you consider the most beautiful function in either pure or applied mathematics, besides Euler's Identity? I personally think it is Schrodinger's Equation. It is elegant, simple to comprehend, and at the same time so fundamental that, like Maxwell's Equations, it is possible to explain massively complex systems using the equivalent of monosyllables and grunting (however, like assembling a Boeing 747 using only scrap metal and ones' bare hands, no one is foolish enough to try such a laborious approach). Extra points for complex-valued functions.



I like pugs. Everyone I know knows that. But I fear people may overestimate my appreciation of these small dogs.

Coworker: Tom, I found a pug video for you! I found a video on Limewire of a pug going down on a woman, and I instantly thought about you!

Me: Because I like pugs?

Coworker: There's a scene where he ejaculates like a firehose! He's hung like a wrinkly little horse! I know how much you love pugs.

Me: You're the one downloading pug bestiality and you think I'm one with a perverse pug fascination?



You know how much you hate guys who ask, "hot enough for ya'?" In Buffalo, these wastes of cytoplasm ask, "cold enough for ya'" You have no idea how much exponentially more annoying these guys are when you're standing in a puddle of slush.



According to the Everett Interpretation of quantum physics, there is a version of you that looks exactly like Dennis Kucinich or Golda Meir, depending on your gender. This is why I prefer the Copenhagen Interpretation.

Posted by: Tom "The Pooklekufr" Treloar at November 09, 2007 17:06 EST | Permalink | comments |
blog nocturne, geekery

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A Dramatic Monologue: A Fugue of Creepy Coworker

Officer, I was trying to revive the deer.

In the name of science. Think, man, this might help cure cancer!

Yes, the jumper cables had to be attached to its nipples. What do you think I am, a pervert?

Why were my pants off? I was in the process of changing into my lab coat.

Oh, the wife mixed up our underwear by mistake and I was too tired to notice in the morning. This thong is very uncomfortable, but it is nothing compared to the hardships great men like Pasteur and Spallanzani suffered in the pursuit of science.

Yes, I know it's 2 a.m.

I can assure you that had I not slathered the deer in KY jelly, it would have burst into flames the moment I applied current.

What do you mean?

Oh, the turkey baster is for transferring part of my elan vital.

My life force.

Well, how do you extract your life force?

Yes, that is a cage full of shaved ferrets in the back of my truck. They are necessary in the transfer of the life force.

Ok, ok! I'm getting down on the ground as fast as possible.

You should have told me that. How was I supposed to know you didn't want me lying on the deer?

Oh. I didn't know that was illegal.

Unhand me, fool! This work will change the world! I am the next Pasteur!

Posted by: Tom "The Pooklekufr" Treloar at November 08, 2007 16:58 EST | Permalink | comments |
humor

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Linear Discrimination Analysis and Automated Circuit Design

Assume you have a series of equations modelling chip archictecture. For instance, an equation governing the midpoint voltage in a transistor with regard to the saturation points of the p and n components:

V_m = (1/1+r)( (V_dsatn/2) + r(V_dd + V + (V_dsatp/2) )

Given this series of equations, it is possible to specify various alternative designs. A table or graph may be formed, some interval of which outputs those designs that are both physically realizable and possibly useful. Each design within this subset will vary with regard to cost, thermal loss, noise, fringe capacitance, etc. An engineer normally must manually select which of these designs is optimal according to some fixed goal. He may choose a design optimized for minimal power consumption over speed, or vice versa.

I'm working on a way to automate this design process, both in the production of new designs and in the selection of these designs. One promising technique is linear discriminant analysis.

Suppose I have generated several designs and wish to classify them according to whether they are optimal with regard to either power consumption or speed. What is needed is a way to map calculated parameters with existing designs known to be optimized.

First, I assemble the parameters x of designs known to possess the necessary optimizations, say, for speed, calling it set y. These parameters will constitute the basis for comparison with the generated designs. I will call the parameters of the generated designs u.

I will make the simplifying assumption that the probability density function governing whether design x belongs in class y given A, and its converse, is normally distributed. I will also assume general covariance.

Applying Bayesian probability theory, I wish to extract this conditional probability within a certain likelihood threshold T:

(x - u₀)^T sum_y=0^-1 (x - u₀) + ln |sum _{y = 0}| -(x - u₁) - ln |sum _{y = 1}|

<

T

Sexy equation aside, this allows me to assign with arbitrary likelihood the probability that a generated design is a member of a given pre-selected set, with whatever property I had selected that set for. Reiterating this process over several alternative training sets, I may sieve out alternative possible optimizations. Mathematically, I can compact this process into one, using matrix mechanics and the magic of eigenvectors to simultaneously compare optimizations. I can also add such features as noise terms. Reiterating this process on a higher level may allow finer detail in the decision process.

This method, as I briefly sketched it, is still too crude. It relies too much on human decisions, does not take into account weights attached to alternative optimizations, and inserts too much mechanism between the input and the output. I hope to design a selective algorithm along similar lines, taking into account those prior decisions, using some variant of a weighted decision-making algorithm.

Posted by: Tom "The Pooklekufr" Treloar at November 07, 2007 23:56 EST | Permalink | comments |
blog nocturne, geekery

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A Typical Night In the Pooklekufr Life

Because I've got nothing else to blog about.

I spent some time studying Hartree-Fock Theory, Big-O Notation, Density Functional Theory, and Markov Decision Processes. Then fiddled around with matrices in Common Lisp and Python.

Then, I put Six-String Samurai on and revelled in post-apocalyptic Siberian surf sword fights.

This is what happens when you have no life.

Posted by: Tom "The Pooklekufr" Treloar at November 07, 2007 18:07 EST | Permalink | comments (4) |
life, boredomblogging, geekery

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Destroying Your Brain One Post At A Time

This blog post conttains two errors.

Posted by: Tom "The Pooklekufr" Treloar at November 06, 2007 17:54 EST | Permalink | comments (3) |
boredomblogging, blog nocturne, geekery

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A Brief Nocturnal Thought

Freeman Dyson is probably the coolest man alive.

Update: A little map of my wiki wanderings:

Freeman Dyson
Astrochicken
Von Neumann Probe
Monte Carlo Method
Stochastic Optimization Algorithms
Ising Model of Statistical Mechanical Interdependence
Geometrically Frustrated Magnet
George Polya
De Moivre's Formula
Ant Colony Optimization Algorithm

Posted by: Tom "The Pooklekufr" Treloar at November 05, 2007 18:34 EST | Permalink | comments |
blog nocturne, geekery

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Sunday Slide Guitar: Sleep Walk

Santo and Johnny's "Sleep Walk":

Posted by: Tom "The Pooklekufr" Treloar at November 04, 2007 17:28 EST | Permalink | comments (1) |
music, beauty, blog nocturne

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I ... Hope You Don't ... Mind

Shira the Terrible: I don't want him borrowing my car.

The Isiah: Ok. I'll tell him to find some other mommy-van.

Me: Would you let Young William Shatner borrow your mommy van?

Shira the Terrible: [blushes]

The Isiah: He'd leave it in a mess. There'd be used condoms lying around the floor...

Me: The upholstery would stink of vagina and Zima...

The Isiah: He'd scratch his autograph into every square inch of your car's paintjob...

Me: "But [...] I've [...] increased the [...] value [...] a hundred[...]fold!"

The Isiah: You'd never get the stench of dead whore out of it.

Shira the Terrible: I'm not letting Young William Shatner borrow my mommy van!

Posted by: Tom "The Pooklekufr" Treloar at November 04, 2007 14:09 EST | Permalink | comments |
humor, conversations

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Behold!

Another Lady Geek!

Posted by: Tom "The Pooklekufr" Treloar at November 03, 2007 15:43 EST | Permalink | comments |
discoveries, geekery

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News Flash For the Unusually Stout-Hearted

Never, ever, ever, eat a bowl of cereal when you have a G.I. bug. Not unless you are curious as to how your stomach acid curdles milk.

On the slightly less disgusting hand, at the moment I am very thankful that I do not have a lapdog.

Thatisall.

Update 2:19 a.m: This dialogue actually made me laugh hard enough to vomit. Salmonella has a noble purpose after all. Take that, atheists.

Posted by: Tom "The Pooklekufr" Treloar at November 02, 2007 22:19 EST | Permalink | comments |
life, discoveries

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(You Could Go (with (This That)))

The Isiah suggested in my comments a need for a decision-making algorithm in CMOS chip architecture, based on a minimax-style payoff matrix for alternative optimizations.

I can't think of anything more full of diversions and at the same time massive applications. What about making the weights vary continuously, using calculus to locate minima and maxima of multi-variable functions of important parameters? What if you could automate the production of possible logics according to an alpha-beta pruning-style algorithm and then compete them against each other, weighing their performance according to a series of alternative optimizations? What if you could insert real-time optimization algorithms into compilers, weighed on the basis of the performance of previously compiled code (a heuristically improving compiler)?

It is too interesting to pass up. Decision-making is something computers are notoriously bad at. I am going to try to fix this.

Posted by: Tom "The Pooklekufr" Treloar at November 02, 2007 16:27 EST | Permalink | comments |
geekery

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Death To the Duodenum!

I'm in a war of attrition with my G.I. tract, which decided today would be a good day to experience salmonella or one of its friends.

It is impossible, when faced with a headache and G.I. problems, to imagine yourself climbing Mt. Everest. Believe me, I've been trying. All day, I'd get close to imagining myself on the roof of the world, only to be interrupted by a head-crunching cough or puke-gurgle.

This is quality stuff. I should write more about puke-gurgles.

Posted by: Tom "The Pooklekufr" Treloar at November 01, 2007 21:43 EST | Permalink | comments (3) |
life

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I Feel So... Biological... in the Morning

Have you ever noticed that it is almost impossible to make a fist when you wake up? Try it.

I wonder why this is. On the one hand, it would seem to make us vulnerable to surprises. If a sabre-tooth were to wake me up, I'm not going to just slap at it. Give me a frickin' fist!

On the other hand, maybe this is a protection mechanism in the same way that sleep paralysis is. Imagine waking out of a scary proto-human nightmare and going Bruce Lee on your nest-mates. I'd imagine at least one person would fall to the ground where the beasties live. There's tigers down there! Keep your fists to yourself!

Lung butter, lip crud, tingling appendages, debilitating and back-breaking yawns, kinked necks, and an odd sensation that your point of view has shifted two inches to the left in the middle of the night. These are G-d's ways of keeping us humble.

We're all slightly maladjusted moist robots when we wake up.

Posted by: Tom "The Pooklekufr" Treloar at November 01, 2007 03:30 EST | Permalink | comments (1) |
morning

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