Category Archives: Society

BodyScale: 0 to 100

Celsius is great for science. 0 freezing, 100 boiling – perfectly logical.

Fahrenheit is just bonkers. Totally screwball with no logic behind it whatsoever.

But the problem with Celsius (we’ll disregard Fahrenheit due to irrelevance) is that Celsius has only one immediately human identifiable anchoring: 0 degrees freezing. At 100°, the boiling point of pure water at sea level—yeah, great. Not exactly relatable (not really). How warm is the human body? 37 degrees. Hmm, 37, not a number that sits well in our minds. Instead…

How about a human relatable scale:

  • 0 = freezing point of water.
  • 100 = human body temperature.

Here’s how such a scale would compare to Celsius…

CelsiusvsBodyScale

0 is 0. That’s easy. We are frozen solid at 0 Centigrade as well as 0 BodyScale.

But at 100° BodyScale, we’re exactly where we need to be (37°C).

Now, based on 0-100° degrees BS we have a natural range we can understand.

At 50° BS, we’re pretty comfortable — half way from body temp to freezing.

At -50° BS, that’s damn cold (-19°C), and that’s about our limit.

At 150° BS, that’s about our top limit, frickin’ hot. Hot to the touch; sauna hot. But still, if you were outside, walkin’ around, drinking lots of fluids, 150° BS is tolerable. See how this is working?

Zero BS to 100° BS is our natural range. It makes sense to us in our ten-fingered numerical system within our human condition. Additionally, -50° BS to 150° BS would be our natural  range extent. Again, logical extensions of our 0-100 range.

Celsius has two numbers which make human sense, 0 & 100. One is relatable, the other is “touch and suffer.”

We humans like relatable numbers. That’s why the metric system is so hard to take. (See: https://anonymole.com/2015/08/18/the-problem-with-the-metric-system/ )

A weatherman, lying about tomorrow’s sunny day, who used BodyScale as their temperature gauge would make perfect sense.

“Tonight’s overnight temperature will be 60° BS and 85° BS by tomorrow afternoon—a nice day, so go have fun!”

And medically, using such a scale would also make sense.

  • 104° BodyScale, a bit of a fever.
  • At 95° BS, you’re suffering from hypothermia!
  • 100° – spot on, mate.

Even that 100° C seems misleading, “100°C? Yeah, OK”.
But at 270° BS. 270°! Shit, that sounds hot! And it is. Hot enough to boil water…

(Oh, and the “BS” initialism is an ironic coincidence…)

Celsius BodyScale
-40 -108
-30 -81
-19 -50
-10 -27
0 0
10 27
20 54
30 81
37 100
40 108
50 135
55 150
70 189
80 216
90 243
100 270
110 297
120 324
130 351
140 378
150 405
160 432
170 459
180 486
190 514
200 541

Team building: Barriers

Remember that little thing I mentioned about leading our morning stand-up at work:

https://anonymole.com/2019/06/14/your-favorite-a-stand-up-round/

Well, it’s been a stellar success. We’ve gone through nearly the entire list, one more day—today—and then someone else will take over the minor roll of leading this team’s morning meeting. And now, no one wants to take over. They like this format and would care to continue it. Damn!

It turns out, all those team building exercises you’ve read about, the off-sites, the silly activities, pyramid assembly from crouched bodies, blind-fold nonsense, the potlucks and such—they don’t measure up to these simple sharing sessions.

Every morning, for a month, go around the room and share a simple favorite, a memory, a dislike, a dream, a wish or a meme. Sure, folks might lie, make things up, but it seems that they don’t; the sharing-bug is infectious.

The team is now more cohesive than ever.

A lesson in sociology? Risk a thought, a private memory: be rewarded with camaraderie?


A tentless hobo

The 1993 gold Saturn that was stolen Monday, recovered Thursday morning, is back in its spot from which it was abducted, worse for wear in that the tiny geode is forever lost.

That and $311 bucks and a whirlwind trip to fetch it out of hoc.

Oh, did I mention that we gained a few things in the deal? Yeah:

  • 1 hobo tent
  • 1 empty duffel
  • 1 weed pipe
  • 1 uneaten taco
  • 1 bag of miscellaneous clothing
  • garbage and crap and cigarette smoke

It seems that whomever stole the car took it to get from point A to B and picked up his crappy gear along the way. He slipped a slimjim ribbon steel down to unlock it. Then took a filed down jimmy key and wiggled and wiggled the key until he could crank it over. Done.  Drive away and sleep in the back and abandon it and his stuff in a wooded area outside of Portland.

The car is sitting back where we expect to sit. But now, the battery has been pulled out and we’ll put it back only to drive it, rarely, or to the auction where we’ll get rid of this beloved albatross. Someday.

What a week.


Cops and Robbers (towing)

Good (maybe) news!

Our 1993 gold Saturn was recovered, externally undamaged, by the Portland Police and towed by a towing company to its impound area.

Now, for the privilege of having our car stolen, we get to pay $300 (today only) for the honor of having our car returned to us (and towed from there back to our residence — for additional cost).

Sounds like a racket to me.

 


A thief in the day

Yesterday, between seven and nine pm, the old 1993 gold Saturn I bought new when my son was born was stolen from the covered spot right in front of the apartment in which my wife and I live. We could look out and see it there. California, Utah, Oregon—26 years old.

The sun hadn’t even set. People walked their dogs and kids around the place. Someone with balls the size of grapefruit had the audacity to steal that old, nearly worthless car.

God Damn It.

And the only thing of value in the whole car was a geode I’d saved from a dig with the family back in 2003 in Delta, Utah. The size of a robin’s egg, this geode represented the “thing” I was going to save until my last breath when I’d say to my kids, “let’s see what’s inside this, shall we?” It had rattled around in the ashtray for 16 years.

The Universe is absurd, indifferent and oblivious.

Yup, it sure is.

 


Your Favorite: a stand-up round

Where I’m working, we have morning stand-ups: a quick meeting where 10 -/+ of us round the room explaining yesterday’s and today’s tasks. Everyone takes a monthly turn at leading. June is my month. So, first off, I built a spinner to pick who goes first:

Spinner

Then, I provided a list of topics that each person could volunteer their favorite. Each day a different topic:

Favorite…

  • Media
    • Movies
    • Books, stories, games
    • Media star or fictional character – hero, villain or
    • Fictional location – in what fictional land would you care to live or visit
    • Meme/genre: sci-fi, fantasy, time shift, horror, dystopia, CSI, medical, cops/crime
  • Food
    • A meal or food you’d eat every day for the rest of your life
    • Beverage
    • Sweet or treat: childhood or now
    • Least favorite food
    • Haven’t tried but would like to
  • Travel
    • Prior vacation spot
    • Desired vacation spot
    • Live the rest of your life
    • Would never travel to, worst placed you’ve lived
    • Where would you take the entire team?
  • Misc
    • Favorite science meme: fusion, space elevator, Moon/Mars colony, robots, AI, etc.
    • Music, do you play an instrument, can you dance, are you in a band?
    • Unknown skills (art, maker, cooking, crafts, etc.)
    • Pet, childhood memory, hobby, best/worst job
    • Bucket list: anything

So far the answers have been fun, strange and entertaining.

(Who knew that some folks don’t like shrimp, sushi, liver & onions, cilantro, bean sprouts? Odd people, these.)


Writer’s Log: 2048 Disturbing Content

All of us can dream up some pretty ugly scenarios.

Depraved, disturbing, deranged. I’d wager you could come up with some horrific scenes with some downright criminal activity. Stuff you’d feel you could never put to paper. So, how is it that some authors can actually write that stuff and not be thought of as insane?

For my latest work in progress I’ve decided to abandon some of my social constraints and write of gawd-awful acts and heinous behavior. Immolation, horse stomping children, murdering a pregnant woman, soon the dismemberment of a “bad dude.”

Holy Hell Batman! That’s some nasty shit. Are you sure you want to have your name associated with such wickedness? Are you sure you want your editor/mother (78) to read of such unspeakable cruelty? What will she think of you now? Disturbed? Perverted?

Frankly, I don’t know. But, I figure if I can visualize it, then so can others, and if it fits the story, then so be it.

But, day-yam, that’s some corrupt sewage leaking out of my brain.

Have you written content you know others would find disturbing? Did their consternation and potential ostracization influence your writing?