Musical

Good news! 

The musical version of the 327 word weblog “Yoga, Cycling, and Pot” is now in development!

Being one of the few remaining pieces of “intellectual” property that has yet to be turned into a Broadway songfest, it’s high time this stage production is at last underway.

Look forward to dozens of hoofers and crooners hoofing to and crooning catchy numbers like “327 Words, One for Each of My Fans,” “Is this Piece Funny or Dumb: You Decide,” and the showstopping ballad based on the piece “Recursion,”, “I Dreamed I Dreamed a Dream.”  

There won’t be a dry seat in the house!

Negotiations are now happening for filling out the cast, which at this point is expected to include Madonna playing the part of Yoga, Timothy Chalamet essaying the role of Cycling, and either Seth Rogan or Cheech Marin (or perhaps both!) performing the part of Pot.  

How thrilling is that!

Scored by Mark Mothersbaugh of Devo fame, with additional songs from Weird Al Yankovic and ChatGPT, the show promises to feature earworms that burrow so deeply into the minds of audience members that they’ll not only leave their seats humming the tunes, they’ll also find themselves lying in bed at 3:00 in the morning wide awake with the melodies going over and over and over in their heads no matter how hard they try to drown them out with meditation podcasts and highly-addictive sleeping pills!

Awesome, or what?

Lest theater patrons and tin-pan alley songwriters scoff at the notion of a weblog turned into a Broadway extravaganza, keep in mind that in recent years, such diverse properties as King Kong, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, and Stephen King’s Carrie have gone the musical route.  And that’s not even counting the apotheosis of the genre, T.S. Eliot’s Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats transformed into the Great White Way smash, Cats.

So, stay tuned, theater fans; it will be the stuff of which Memories are made!

Pre-Preparation

The Mayo Clinic—and advertisers on broadcast television of shows that appeal to middle-aged and older people—recommend that you get tested for pre-diabetes: a higher-than-normal level of blood sugar that’s not high enough to be considered Type 2 diabetes.

But why stop there?  Why not get tested for pre-pre-diabetes: a slightly elevated level of blood sugar that’s not high enough to be considered pre-diabetes?

And you can’t be too careful.  Better also get tested for pre-pre-pre-diabetes: a normal level of blood sugar that’s not high enough to be considered pre-pre-diabetes.

Something’s going to kill you, so it’s in your best interest to prepare beforehand.  Consider the levels of hypertension; you’ve got your Normal, your Elevated, your Stage 1, Stage 2, and Severe.  Maybe you’re “Normal,” and feeling good.  Not so fast!  Shouldn’t you make sure that you’re not pre-Elevated?  A simple test, costing no more than the annual GDP of an emerging nation can ascertain whether that’s the case.

I don’t know about you, but I’m going all in on testing whether I’m pre-deceased.  Sooner or later, I am going to be dead (and so are you), so I want to make sure (and you should, too) that I’m not experiencing a higher level of mortality that’s not high enough to be considered deceased.  Just want to make sure!

An average infant born in the United States in 2026 is projected to live to be approximately 79.5 years old, according to current projections on U.S. Life Expectancy.  But who wants to be average?  That same infant, who really wants to excel, can avail themselves of pre-natal testing, and even better, pre-pre-natal testing, and, in doing so, up their life expectancy to at least 80!

Better yet, they could have planned ahead and had their grandparents engage in pre-pre-pre natal testing and perhaps, if they were really lucky, could have thereby established that the surest way to avoid dying is never to have been born at all!

Aphorisms

• If you can’t say something nice, then it’s time to see a speech therapist.
• Give them an inch and they’ll convert it to 2.5 centimeters.
• Imitation is the sincerest form of copying.
• A penny saved isn’t even worth a penny anymore.
• Measure twice; still screw up the cutting.
• All things come to those have someone to bring it to them.
• An ounce of prevention is worth 28 grams of prevention.
• Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day; teach a man to fish and he’ll say, “Is that all there is to it?”
• No sense in crying over spilt tears.
• You can lead a horse to water, but why?
• The road to hell is paved with chipseal.
• Honesty is the best policy, but lying works better in practice.
• Better safe than “sorry about that; oops.”
• The grass is always greener when you’re wearing sunglasses.
• Don’t count your chickens before they cross the road.
• If it ain’t broke, it will be next time you use it.
• Hindsight is 20/20, but it still needs readers.
• Actions speak louder than a librarian.
• Don’t judge a book by its brown paper bag dust cover.
• A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single search on Google maps.
• Necessity is the mother of Necessity, Junior.
• When in Rome, eat some pizza.
• Power corrupts, absolute power is really fun.
• If you lie down with dogs, you wake up when they pass gas.
• Laugh and the world laughs with you, weep and the world laughs at you.
• The more things change, the more you get charged a change fee.
• Genius is one percent inspiration and ninety-nine percent acquiring venture capital.
• You can fool all of the people some of the time, and some of the people all of the time, but you can’t fool all the people all of the time unless you’re fooling yourself.
• You’ll always regret what you didn’t do more than what you did do, except for this.

Sufficient

How much is enough?  Did Abraham Lincoln wonder whether he was working hard enough to preserve the Union?  Does the Dalai Lama second-guess himself over whether he’s making sufficient progress along the road to enlightenment? At the end of the day, was Jesus Christ worried that there were still some miracles left undone?  Is it enough to not be a terrible person or are we required to really make the world a better place all of the time?

Suppose someone gets up in the morning, drinks organically-raised free trade coffee, takes a quick water-saving shower, dresses in clothes bought second-hand, walks their dog, picks up the poop, and disposes of it responsibly, and then settles down to a day that mostly involves reading fiction, taking walks, preparing vegetarian meals, checking out the news online, and running a few errands by bike; does that earn them the right to consider the day well-lived?  Or is something missing due to their failure to directly confront one of the great problems facing humanity, like homelessness, drug abuse, child trafficking,  climate change, or the proliferation of pickleball courts?

On our deathbed, as we look back over our life, will we say to ourselves, “Good job, old friend, you’ve made a positive dent in the world,” or will we whisper more quietly, “For heaven’s sake, chum, why didn’t you do more for others and less for yourself?”  Or will it be something more in the middle, where we remain puzzled about the overall balance of goodness we effected?  (Probably).

If you compare yourself to the real baddies—people like Charles Manson or Jeffrey Dahmer or a certain world leader who prioritizes their own self-interest over the needs of the people (take your pick here)—you may feel pretty good about what you’ve accomplished.  But if you hold yourself up against saints like Dolly Parton or Mr. Rogers, then it’s likely you don’t come out so well.

Seems obvious, therefore, what to do.

Perspective

I broke a shoelace.  My bike got a flat.  I spilled tomato sauce all over my favorite shirt.  The sports team I root for lost again.  Some guy cut me off in traffic.  They were out of my brand of yogurt at the co-op.  I stepped in my own dog’s dog poop.  Tickets to that band I’d like to see are too expensive.  The hot water ran out during my shower.  I opened the refrigerator and its light was burned out.  The spinach I’d been counting on for my dinner salad was too wilted and slimy.  My pen ran out of ink.  The internet is running slow today.  The clothes came out of the dryer still damp and wrinkled.  The toilet sometimes runs after flushing.  My phone has a new crack in it.  I walked through a spider web this morning.  Only bills and circulars came in the mail.  My colleague hasn’t responded to the email I sent two days ago.  The price of Netflix went up once more.  Some jerk underlined passages in the library book I’m reading.  I still haven’t lost those ten pounds I’d hoped to.  I fell asleep during my meditation practice.  I was counting on it to be sunny, not cloudy this afternoon.  My dog barfed on the rug.  The store coupon doesn’t kick in until your bill is fifty dollars; mine was $47.23.  Why are there commercials on my streaming service?  My socks got wet.  I lost a glove.  And a button. Tall Grass bakery has shrinkflationed their best bread.  Showers Pass stopped making the Transit jacket. La Dive changed their menu.  Seattle Metro modified the 372 bus route; now I have to transfer on my commute to school. My elected representatives at all levels of government continue to disappoint me with their policies and decisions.  I have to wake up three times a night to pee.

Drones are not bombing my neighborhood, though; I have nothing to be upset about.

Lucid

I’m not depressed, I just don’t see any real reason to get out of bed in the morning.

It’s not that I have no faith whatsoever in the abilities of national politicians and world leaders to work effectively towards global peace and harmony, it’s just that one of them, somewhere, has to demonstrate even the faintest possibility of effective efforts in that direction before I’m convinced

I’m sure that addressing human-induced climate change is possible; the problem, however, is that it’s humans who are the ones who would have to do so.

My favorite sports team could surely get hot and win the pennant; all they need do is win more games in a row than any sports team has ever done before.

I easily could lose those ten or fifteen pounds that would make me healthier and more attractive; all that’s involved would be giving up eating after 5:00PM in the evening and before 4:59PM in the afternoon.

I could save lots more money for retirement; to do so would be simple: I’d simply have to not retire.

De-cluttering my house would be a breeze; just pick it up, shake it out, and replace it carefully back on its foundation.

I am right on the verge of writing a thrilling,  best-selling novel like Stephen King; I just have to finish doing the body-swap and Vulcan mind-meld with him.

All those home improvements and little chores are on my “to-do” list; they’ll be in the bag as soon as I transfer them to my “have-done” list.

I’m not really worried about widespread economic collapse and hyperinflation; I’ve got a trusty wheelbarrow in which to carry around all those stacks of dollars I’ll need to buy a loaf of bread.

If history repeats itself, we’re all in for some hard times; however, if unprecedented events occur, we’re also likely to experience hardships never seen before.  So, no matter what happens, (or doesn’t), it hardly really matters, right?

Right?

Nihilism

It’s extremely important to make the case for nihilism in all its forms.

See what I did there?

If nothing matters, then surely it doesn’t matter whether nihilism is the case.

Or does it?

Take moral nihilism.

Please.

If there are no objective values, does that mean that anything goes?  But if anything goes, wouldn’t that imply that there’s something wrong with asserting the existence of objective values?  Does nihilism end up eating its own tail?

There’s nothing wrong with self-contradictory paradoxical statements, except when there is.  Of course, since everything I say about epistemological nihilism is a lie, then there’s nothing to worry about worrying about.

As Ivan Karamazov was wont to proclaim, “If God doesn’t exist, then everything is permitted.”  But if everything is permitted, then nothing is prohibited.  But if nothing is prohibited, then there’s at least one thing—nothing—that isn’t permitted.  

Dang!

I want to be a nihilist, but if I want something, then I’m implying that it’s desirable.  But if it’s desirable, then I seem to be committed to the notion that it has some sort of value.

Dang, again!

Of course, it doesn’t really matter what you do; the Universe doesn’t care, that’s for sure, whether you regularly volunteer at the local soup kitchen or steal candy from unsuspecting babies in their strollers.  The Universe’s little cousin, though, Humanity, might have something to say about this and maybe that’s good enough for government work or jazz—or both, if it’s a government-supported jazz combo!

The simple fact that nihilism is especially popular among teenaged boys should tell you all you want to know about its status as a reasonable way to organize one’s life.  (Same goes double for the philosophical views of Ayn Rand).

Ludwig Wittgenstein, in his Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus, famously states, “Whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent;” but that hasn’t stopped philosophers from holding forth on all sorts of unspeakable claims.

Nilihist: Nothing wrong with that!