P.S. A Column On Things

Grandkid

My Grandson

On “Letter Y” day I bought some yellow yarn for him  to show, but it came too late. He had showed Yoda, which his classmates found suitably impressive.

His father and I showed him how to draw three flags representing his heritage. That got him really interested in international flags. He drew all the tricolors and two-color flags.

Then, he drew the easy U.S. flags. I told about the phrase “Big Blue Bed Sheets,” a term of derision for all-blue state flags with the state seal on them. Thus, we did not do Oregon or Washington. The bear on the California flag makes it too hard to draw. We had a lot of fun with New Mexico, Texas and Alabama (all quire simple). “This is fun,” he said, as he choose to draw flags over any other activity.

Paul Stories: Losing Terry

In 1969, I was dating Terry, who attended a Catholic girls’ school in downtown Portland and was the daughter of a friend of my Nana’s. We dated a dozen times or so. Nana told me years later that I scared her away. Terry called the house once and said, playfully, "Guess who this is." I replied, “I don’t play this game,” and hung up. I never heard from her again, and didn’t know why, until Nana told me.

Meme O’ The Week: Louis Armstrong

This and That

Three Stooges
Thanks to my digressive mind, I committed cross-cultural contamination that won’t end well. I told a support person in India about the Three Stooges. I then warned him not to share them with his wife. Fingers crossed; I don’t want to harm his marriage.
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Robot Arms and Screens
Craig Reynolds posted a video on LinkedIn featuring robot arms dancing with screens. As happens so often to me on that site, the link disappeared when I went back to look at it. So, here is a robot arm and screen demo, just not the same one. A tip of the PSACOT hat to Craig.
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About Lies
“A lie doesn't become truth, wrong doesn't become right, and evil doesn't become good, just because it's accepted by a majority.”
― Booker T. Washington
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Giant Fart
What it says on the can: Giant Fart.
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Super Duper Green Screen
We’ve come a long way from rear projection in movies to AI assisted green screen.

Right Column Redux: Damn Shame

The column to the right on this blog contains permanent content, most of which has appeared at one time or another in the main body. I’ve decided to include a reminder.

Stephen Michael Schindler, RIP March 8, 1954-May 21, 2020
My brother's obituary

Empathy and Compassion

It’s amazing what you find if you actually read your LinkedIn feed. Derik Timmerman of Sparrow Nonprofit Solutions linked to this video: A cancer patient visits her hairdresser and he does the unexpected and noted that it was Level 5 on his list of ways to show empathy and compassion.

LEVEL 1: WORDS
Saying something genuine to affirm the sufferer's enduring worth.

LEVEL 2: UTILITY
Supplying helpful goods, services, or money for the sufferer's use.

LEVEL 3: TOUCH
A tender gesture to inhabit the same physical space as the sufferer.

LEVEL 4: TRANSFER
A permanent exchange from giver to sufferer (e.g., organ donation).

LEVEL 5: CO-SUFFERING
Voluntarily joining the sufferer to share the experience of their pain.

Laws of advertising

 1 Nobody cares
2 If it's not seen it's useless
 3 You need risk to stand out
4 Don't bore, seduce
 5 You can't create by committee
 6 Quality over quantity
 7 Tell the truth
 8 Jargon = nothing
9 Pictures beat frames
10 Fun > serious

End of July 24 Column (No. 888)

Start of July 17 Column

My Muse Moved Out

My muse moved out in the middle of the night. She left no forwarding address. She lived with me for 18 months: the average length of my pre-Vicki relationships (Vicki and I passed that milestone 42 years ago). Her parting gift to me: Paul Sings Paul (a forthcoming album). I don’t expect to see her again; Vicki says she’ll call if she wants to see me again. I don’t have her number, so I can’t call her.

I won’t miss the 4 a.m. wakeup calls, as she drove me to the keyboard. I will miss the artistic output. People (and entities) come into our lives, sometimes for a season and a reason. I’m not sure why she came, why she left, or whether she’ll be back. But the only constant is change, so I accept her absence.

My parting gift to her is the poem I once wrote about her:

My muse dropped in.
While I slept.
She left this poem.
And then she left.

Her golden horse she rode away.
I think she’ll be back some day
And when she comes for goodness sake.
I hope she’ll come when I’m awake.