No, I’m not going to do the meme in which you spell out “If you can read this. . . .” using the talky-alphabet that we’re supposed to use on amateur radio but which I don’t always use (as I’ve said, I like weirder words for the letters, although I do know these for actual emergencies). I’m not going to translate it into Morse code and post that, either. Like . . . what’s the POINT?! Well, if it makes you happy. But meh.
And if I’d known that the reason women were posting their bra colors daily on Facebook was NOT just to mystify the guys, but was supposed to “raise awareness” and so forth, I’d have mocked it instead of joking with them. I had to figure out what the colors meant by analyzing just what could have “frilly lace” and “power stretch mesh.” I mean . . . this entire “raise awareness” stuff doesn’t make sense. People are constantly spouting beliefs that amount to “I’m going to raise awareness for Issue X by flashing my boobs/spitting on sidewalks/drinking lots of rum!” And that’s all emotion-carried, not logic-carried. There ARE ways to tell people that we need to direct fund-raising efforts toward medical research. If we want to do that, let’s just do it straightforwardly.
I love puzzles. But most of the time, just being obscure isn’t going to spur people to action.
The New Year’s Resolution is kind of a meme, in a way, and I suppose the author of the “Luanne” comic strip has it right when he has a character suggest that one’s list could simply read, “See previous lists.” (sigh) My problem is that I have so MANY things to address. And some of them are simply not under my control. The ones that are . . . are more complex than just flipping a switch, and almost amount to a sub-list of resolutions that have to be accomplished first. Bah! Let’s just go wild and do whatever we want! Determinists will agree that it won’t make a bit of difference in the ultimate outcome! *(grin)*
Perhaps I’m just a cranky old crabby fussbudget.
I’m awake early because I got too hot. The fam has the heater turned up too high because it’s 16 degrees in Dallas with a wind chill factor of -1, and they are all cold-natured (while I am normally always overheated and pulling off sweaters). I dread having to take the dog out to tinkle. He’s got an upper respiratory infection and a cough that the vets have given us a good scare about, and it can’t be good to go out in this cold. So right now I’m tiptoeing so as not to wake him up, or anyone else, for that matter. Actually, I’m not tiptoeing RIGHT NOW–that’s a figure of speech–I’m typing. Just so we’re clear on that.