House dust mites are ubiquitous everywhere humans live indoors. Positive tests for dust mite allergies are extremely common among people with asthma. Dust mites are microscopic arachnids whose primary food is dead human skin cells. They do not actually live on people, though. They and their feces and other allergens they produce are major constituents of house dust, but because they are so heavy they are not long suspended in the air.
Source: Wikipedia – Dust
Right out of the gate and a fascinating factoid already got slipped in. See? That’s the power of blogging. Take a deep breath and let’s begin!
An effective blog post requires several key components: A premise, a point of view, words, pictures and other things. That leaves me out. To that end I often find myself researching my own historical archive of posts. Perhaps I want to link a phrase back to something I wrote before. Perhaps I want to revisit a particularly riveting and interesting idea.
Remember, this is all theoretical.
If you’re like me, you got bedazzled and bamboozled by the sheer spectacle of the promised internet. It was going to be this shiny, vast repository of knowledge. It was somehow implied that this would be a Good Thing ™.
A big piece of this bamboozlement was the heralded “hyperlink.” This was going to be a little information workhorse that magically tied it all up, just like the Force binds you, me and the rock together. Unfortunately, it turned out that hyperlink was one of the most gamed inventions in human history and, even worse, had the lifespan of a fruit fly doing the backstroke in a bowl of malathion soup.
We interrupt this blog post to report that the dumb ass author prematurely pounded the Publish key quite by accident. This is another crucial part of blogging. It’s called The Instant Two Part post.
To be continued…
Tom’s Law #42
As a devout [insert religion here], whenever possible, I only do business with other [insert religion here]. That way, when things inevitably go to shit, I can viciously write about them on my public [insert religion here] blog and foment animosity and dissent within the entire congregation. Verily, I say unto you, halleluja!
–When [insert religion here] Attack, by Tom B. Taker
Let’s leave the specific religion out of it, too. I pledge not to go sectarian on their asses even when they deserve it.
So, this guy I know is quite the character. As someone who has suffered in his vicinity (we all have our crosses to bear) I do get the odd thrill of delight when someone meets him for the first time. I get to feel validated and vindicated in my feelings as my various hypotheses about him are confirmed by the newcomer going through the same process I did.
That’s when I realized there are actual laws at work that govern this reactionary process. I have dubbed this theory The Five Stages of Beef. It’s what happens when a person meets someone of humanoid condition Type A. Of course, we all know that the “A” stands for Asshole.
You only get one chance to make a first impression. When you meet this particular guy you are on Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride of the Senses. As you meet him for the first time you’re in for a wallop.
Visually eclectic, he has the disheveled pointing-straight-up hair of three-year-old who just rolled out of bed. Your nose, however, will simultaneously pick up on the fact that he didn’t shower before putting on disheveled, dirty and wrinkled clothes. He’s also a man who also clings to fiercely held personal beliefs like anti-bacterial handsoap is stupid and deodorant is a marketing scheme. He’s not afraid to put those beliefs into action, either. You’ll get your smell-based verification of this as his body odor envelopes you.
This is when denial kicks in. Is this guy for real? Naw. It can’t be. This can’t be happening. Not to me.
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I try to be coy in emails that pass through “company-owned email servers.” Fuck ‘em! Never include more information than necessary. Ever. I also refer to people by a single letter. It’s up to my wife to grok the meaning.
And that she did just fine.
Somehow she knew that I was asking about her trip to the DMV. I loved her reply so much I decided to make it a guest post. I plan to offer a reading of this at poet’s corner down at the beatnik place one night soon. Enjoy!
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The scene takes place at the airport. Two younger gorgeous people are doing the I’m-late-for-my-flight routine and comically bump into each other at the same counter when their flights are canceled. What are the odds?
It turns out they know each other. What are the odds? They recognize each other. What are the odds? They go back to those hard, little uncomfortable seats and show each other their devices. (You can’t make this up.)
“So, what do you do?”
“I’m a blogger.” He says it like its the most interesting thing in the world.
“That is so crazy and weird, because I’m a blogger, too!”
Instantly their love “goes viral.” Naturally. I mean, what are the odds? Two bloggers? In the same airport??? In a country of 311 million people?????? Where only 300 million actually pump out “content” on a regular basis? (Incidentally, that leaves absolutely no one with enough time to actually read this shit.)
Trudeau: Alright, we’ve got a body in the morgue that seems to have died twice. Assuming it’s not a computer error, what do we assume?
John McClane: That somebody’s about to seriously fuck with this airport.
Trudeau: What the hell is that supposed to mean? I mean, I know we’re dummies up here, McClane, so give us a little taste of your brilliant genius! I mean, you talking about a hijacking, a robbery or what?
Hell, the only people who don’t blog are those brain dead in comas and the White family from the Appalachian Mountains of Boone County, West Virginia. And those folks already have video biographers following them around 24/7.
In a world where even three-year-olds have blogs is it really that amazing that two bloggers should meet in an airport? Did I ask you about the odds? Is that really a story worth telling?
The two bloggers get so excited about it all that they sprint through the airport like O.J. Simpson hopped up on Red Bull. Until …
WTF? They run into a new Sears refrigerator? Just sitting there? Out on the concourse?
I had suspension of disbelief going on but this is just too much. Unbelievable! I mean, how in the hell did a refrigerator get past the Transportation Security Administration’s screening agents?
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It was Saturday morning and I had a blog post to pump out lest my streak towards 1,000 days of continuous blogging fell into jeopardy. Yes, it was Saturday, but there was little time for blogging. Chores were waiting.
Luckily, for once in my my life, I already had an idea percolating in my head. I knew exactly what I wanted to write about. This shouldn’t take long, I thought to myself, right before everything went straight to Hell.
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Today I only have three rants. Well, four, if you count the fact that I’m rapidly approaching 1,000 days of posts without missing a single day and I’ve never been Freshly Pressed. If an infinite number of monkeys at an infinite number of typewriters given an infinite amount of time can produce the complete works of William Shakespeare, surely even an idiot like myself could hit pay dirt one time? Come on!!! Meanwhile I know a lot of people who have been there, done that, and within only a week of launching their blogs. Ah, the fortunate ones.
Feedback like “you suck” is really valuable. At least here in the Abyss. Actually, I commend them wholeheartedly for enforcing certain standards. If I was to be Freshly Pressed, I’m sure it would be like matter and anti-matter touching. It would destroy the universe as we know it. And practically no one wants that!
Anyway, I promised rants. Here we go.
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