I partook of some heavy traffic today, through LA. In self defense, I let my mind wander. Here's an excerpt from the transcript.

"Three plus three is Seven."
"Well, no. I think you'll find that it adds up to six."
"No, it's Seven. My parents say it's Seven, and so do many respected members of the community."
"Fair enough, but those people can be wrong, like anyone else. Here: I'll show you. I've got some pocket change. We can count together."
"That won't prove anything. We're talking about adding, not counting. Anyway, I *know* three plus three is Seven, so I don't have to count."
"No, I don't think you do *know* that. I think you just *feel strongly* about it, which is different. Three plus three is six. That's a verifiable fact."
"I'm not concerned with facts. I'm interested in Truth."
"But following the facts is how we approach the truth."
"Look, if three plus three is six, then what happens when we die?"
"Huh? I'm guessing--and mind you, I don't actually know, since I'm not dead--that we're just, y'know, dead."
"But that's horrible! How can you want children to believe that?"
"Because it seems to be true, as far as we know?"
"Well, I don't want to live in a world like that."
"So, you'll just believe whatever you want?"
"No, it's not like that. Look: You don't know what happens after we die. Right?"
"Well, there's a predictable cycle of decomposition, but--"
"You don't know what happens to our consciousness when we die."
"Okay, sure. I don't know."
"Then three plus three *must* equal Seven."
"Okay, that's a legit argument fallacy. It's called argument from ignorance. Just because you don't know one thing, that doesn't mean you know something else. It just doesn't work like that."
"Oh, aren't you superior? You just know everything, don't you?"
"Not really. But I do know that three plus three is six. Anyone in the world can do counting, and prove it."
"Counting doesn't prove anything: We've been over this. Your counting is biased. It's skewed."
"Skewed by what?"
"By the number Thirteen."
"Sorry?"
"The number Thirteen wants you to think that three plus three isn't Seven. It wants to lead you from knowledge of Seven."
"I thought that stuff about Thirteen was just a metaphor."
"Some people believe that, yes. But I'm a literalist on that point."
"So the figurative interpretation is wrong, then?"
"Clearly."
"How do you know?"
"I just know it in my heart"
"But so do they. In their hearts."
"Yes, but they're wrong."
"But they have just as much faith as you do that they're right. They're no less convinced than you are, and no less confident."
"They're just wrong, though. And I don't have to defend my beliefs to some sixist. Why can't I just believe what makes me feel good to believe, anyway?"
"Um. Because it isn't all about you, or your feelings? It's Math, dude."
"Well, I think it takes more faith to believe what you do... ."

This conversation strikes me as eerily familiar, for some reason, but I can't put my finger on it.

For all that our culture holds them up as the grandest of things, freedom and love are terrifying. Having enough freedom is like having enough rope. When we can do whatever we please, we often do incredibly stupid things--nobody can tell us no! (And we know this. Instinctively, we seek someone to tell us what to do, whether a friend, an authority figure, or a centuries-old magical alien.) And love? The horror. Someone loving you for who you are means that now *you* have to find a way to be okay with who you are. (How? I'm not ready! I'm not--just look at me!) It's a bit like water and oxygen: They're tearing everything in the world apart, catastrophically or by slow, incremental violence, but man oh man--try to live without 'em, and see how far you get.

I'm having an anxious morning (relating to some life changes that aren't coming together as quickly as I want them to). I realized that at times like these, people often turn to religion. So, I thought, "Why not?" And I wondered, "What *would* Jesus do?" I pondered that for a bit, considered that Jesus would get himself embroiled in a failed Jewish insurrection against Rome, gather some weird, fanatical rustics together as cronies, cause a public disturbance and a fair amount of property damage at the cultural/economic/political hub of the region, and get himself executed for sedition. So... my life choices seem less awful, by comparison. In fact, I've outlived Jesus, I have wonderful friends, and I have no criminal record at all. So, really, if I can just be patient, apply myself, and not do anything stupid, I'm ahead of the game. Huh. I think maybe I do feel a little better now. Thanks, Jesus!

It's cool when people talk about stuff they're excited about, because it's just great to see them all lit up. In that vein, I'm stoked about the week or so between the spooooky fright-house ads and the jolly Xmas music. That's gonna be so sweet! I could do with a week of Puritans and hand turkeys right about now. (I admit, though, that a week of people obsessing over how they'll cook a bird nobody seems to enjoy eating makes for some poor conversation.)

I'm starting to think I should contact the makers of bobblehead dolls, to ask them to make their toys with more realistic proportions. Y'know, so I don't get body-image issues on account of what I'm beginning to see as my freakishly small head.

I have a feeling their response will include them sending someone around to refund the purchase price of their product, leaving me with a printed card, which will read: "Dear consumer: We regret that you are not possessed of a parent of guardian with the sense to tell you that humans are not really made after this fashion. We find that most consumers consider the comically disproportionate features of our dolls amusing, but regret to conclude that you do not fall into this subset of the general populace. Please use the refund to purchase a doll shaped exactly like you.

Here's a thought: A weakness you know how to work around is almost as good as having another strength.

(I tend to screw up, doubling recipes. I am not what one might call a "Math person.")

I just read something that promised doing a thing "in a fraction of the time" that it used to take to do that thing. Maybe I'm having a cynical moment, but it occurs to me that 1/1 is a fraction.

Many of you are aware of my alter-ego, the costumed vigilante known as The Placebo. (He fights crime because you expect that he will!) Tonight, I'm proud to welcome a youthful new face into the fight against evil. It brings me great pleasure to introduce a guy who never knows when he's beaten: Kid Obtuse! Welcome to the team, buddy.

By request, here's today's totally uplifting Thought of the Day:

Do you crave meaning? Then go get some! Life has no intrinsic meaning. If you find that depressing, you aren't considering how liberating that is, and how amazingly customizable that makes our lives. You get to give *your life* whatever meaning *you* think best. Choosing to spend it searching for the perfect cherry blossom--yay, samurai movies!--is just as valid as choosing to spend it working your butt off to build a multinational charity. There is no grand arbitrator to say that your chosen meaning is unworthy, though some people will think they hold that title, and yes, some paths have more value to your society than others. If those things matter to you, bear them in mind. However, you have permission to take meaning where you find it. Not all paths will yield the same results, of course, but that's freedom for you.

My Thought for the Day, inspired by correspondence with a special someone: 

You can't stand next to someone who just keeps shooting themselves in the foot with a shotgun, without getting your own feet hit now and again. I mean, you could keep telling yourself they didn't mean it, and you could grab ear protection, or maybe put on some heavier boots, so it wouldn't be as bad, but really, you need to take a step back. Or maybe walk away.

There are probably people in your life who are not happy to see you happy. They see you beaming and think of it as an injustice, because you are a lousy person, and deserve to be punished. Limit your contact with those whom you can't cut out entirely, and let the others go. These people are not your friends. They do not love you. Do not reward them for that with your loyalty.

I am upset about a thing. I have no knowledge, and I mean none, about this subject, but rather than this being a mitigating factor, I'm allowing that to give me a black & white perspective on this topic. Won't you join me in being impotently pissy, and feeling morally superior to those who are not likewise upset about this? Also: Wake up, people!

In my dream world, Google Doodles will conclude by reminding you what you were going to search for before they distracted you.

Thought for the Day:

Settling is insidious. Sometimes you don't know you're doing it, because you fail to see the opportunities you're passing on.

My Thought for the Day, since it keeps bouncing around in my head:

Sometimes perfect doesn't look like you thought it would.

Thought for today:

Let's all practice saying this phrase aloud, as many times as is needful, so that it comes out when appropriate. "I don't understand that well enough to have an opinion on it that's worth much." 

We all thank you.