I am currently reading the Happiness Hypothesis by Jonathan Haidt.
It’s an excellent book, and it makes me very happy to be a Unitarian. Not because the author is, but because the ideas expressed in it are so amazingly and repeatedly Unitarian that the whole bloody book comes off as nothing so much as a strikingly amazing Unitarian sermon or group of sermons.
Also, LTGW at work keeps saying, “You have to read Cialdini‘s Influence, you have to read Cialdini’s Influence” and now that I’m reading the Happiness Hypothesis I guess I’ll have to because Haidt cites it constantly.
The metahypothesis is that science and emotion don’t have to conflict. This is actually the big scrap between Faith and Reason right now, or as seen by the religious types, Big Satanic Soulless Violent Freedom Hating Science and Poor Put-upon Faith, or by atheists, Rationality vs. Whiny Ass Crybaby Hyperemotional GodWalloping.
Anyway, I’m havin’ a lovely time laying about reading and hanging with the folks. Jeff just turned up… I’m going to see if I can get him to run me out to the mall.
But it’s kind of funny anyway. (The beings referred to are like spirits or ifreet – not incarnated people.)
From Cracked Magazine?? Can such things be? By the way it’s worth it just for the pix.
My mother, may she be worshipped and adored, has requested that I write and post an expository piece regarding the deep fried Mars Bar fest this Friday, in the style of HP Lovecraft. This set me to cracking my knuckles and my thesaurus in about equal amounts; I have my first sentence, “It was a dark and stormy cauldron of boiling fat that great scaley Cthulhu tended, in the cavernous stony depths of the Miskatonic University Cafeteria.” Link goes to MU fight song.
Yes, it’s a copyright picture. However, it’s too good not to repost.
To address any aspect of my personal life in my blog, consisting as it does at the moment of a bundle of indignities, gripes, aches, bitches, whines and bs, would be merely foolish, so I will try to herd my thoughts into lusher pastures.
My mother’s arm is much improved. The burning is greatly reduced.
I have forwarded pictures of my mandolin to Tom MacMurray, local LOLcats dude, and expect to see pics of his Piggy Sue and Mawgey playing mandolin SOON. (This is something to be anticipated with pleasure).
Deb sent me this. Don’t watch unless you have the speakers blasting and ten free minutes!
There there, Canadian investors…. don’t worry about the subprime crisis in the States.
Delightful Chick style pamphlet on what to do when the Elder Gods are coming!
All you have is the inherent laziness and slowness of bureaucracy to help you now, because your fellow citizens don’t even know what’s on the bill of rights.
In other news, European Parliament takes a cosmic whizz on Creationism. Chances of this happening in the US and Canada. Zip, Nada, Nix, Nyet, not a freakin’ chance. This should be required reading for every goddamned politician on the planet. The wording is bang on. Please read it.
Sometimes you text him twenty times and he doesn’t answer and sometimes he expects you to do all the work and sometimes he comes on so big and so mean. Other times he seems way more interested in other girls, and right in front of you. Sometimes he comments that you really aren’t doing it for him anymore.
Okay, lightning will strike me but hopefully after I deliver my homily this morning.
A little Zen story.
It is with some satisfaction that I report that I have met a really cool guy from Craigslist. He meets every single one of the criteria I set myself out to find (including that he’s into being less lonely, not more married). Urbane, intelligent, musical, accomplished, well travelled and an excellent communicator. I’ve come up with a blog nickname for him, but in keeping with my “Learn to be more respectful of others, you great sow” vow, I’ll run it by him before I start using it.
And I got enough sleep, and the balance board I bought is doing great things for my back.
I’m swithering about going to Jericho. I still feel like some kind of crud is holding over from the weekend, trying to find a part of me to land on so I’m not sure about the wisdom of yet another late night during the week. In addition I have a project breathing heavily in my ear about its completion, due on Thanksgiving.
This will be the first homily I’ve written that I didn’t read aloud obsessively to Paul (or Dr. Filk) for the week prior to the service, and I find that I’m missing that. You just never know what you’re going to miss when you bail on 25 years of marriage. Many of the things I thought would hurt, haven’t, and vice versa. It floors me, and stuns my mother, that I miss cooking. mOm would probably say, And I miss Root Canal! And I miss Income Tax! And I miss Halitosis! and I miss WWII!