Win Free Beer

Okay, as many of you know, my publisher doesn't want to lose more money, so they refused my proposal to update Finale Power. Well, they didn't really lose money, it's just that the documentation that comes with Finale is so good there wasn't enough demand to make an update worthwhile...for them.

So, they gave me the copyright and I'm going to self-publish instead, which is going to be a lot of work. Most of the actual writing is done, and now comes the hard part; hiring out the press and design work, getting a loan, and starting an actual company that will have books and stuff (the money kind).

I need a name for my company ASAP, so I'm hosing a contest. Please suggest a name. If I use it I'll give you a 6-pack of home brew! Or, the equivalent (for the wagon riders).

Requirements:

• You must be 21 or older to win beer.
• No profanity.
• Must be in English.
• Must be somewhat easy to spell.
• Must be somewhat memorable.
• Must not already be the name of a company.
  

Inspiration

• Can be music-related.
• Can be related to learning (it is a method guide).
• Can be related to computers/technology.
• Can be related to our cat Penny.
  

Examples:

• Sonata Books
• EasyGuides
  
• Metamonkey
• Poofy Tail Publications
  

I don't know. I am terrible at titles. Please help!

Fribbles for All

Fribbles were the most fantastic natural resource ever discovered. Rupert Dingleberry was the gentleman who discovered the only known source of Fribbles beneath a melting glacier on his property in Alaska. A few years ago he was walking his schnauzer and there they were, precisely 800,000,000 of them sitting in a huge pit; identical, pristine, and beautiful. He had no idea what to do with them, so there they sat.

Rupert lived in the small town of Bigville, and when word got out that Rupert had Fribbles on his property, folks were stunned. Nothing this exiting had ever happened in their little town. Everyone thought they would have access to cheap Fribbles. Mr. Dingleberry was an instant celebrity, and so was his schnauzer, Lorenzo.

Rupert would haul loads of Fribbles into town and sell them. He made a living doing this. The folks loved the Fribbles so much they were happy to pay a reasonable price for them. After all, they made life so much easier.

When Washington caught wind of the Fribbles bonanza going on in mainland Alaska there was pandemonium. The President called the news media and asked them to produce a hue and cry from the public. They did. "Alaskan's hoarding Fribbles" was front page news the next day. By mid-afternoon everyone knew what a Fribble was, and were shocked, SHOCKED, the Alaskans were such selfish miscreants. Politicians rallied behind the President. "Fribbles for all" was the call from the pundits.

As it turns out, the lawyers discovered Rupert did not have Fribble rights on his property. Some said there was ambiguity in the law defining "Fribble rights discovered under glaciers," but these folks were skewered on the news - dubbed "pinheads." The Department of Homeland Security sent troops to guard the Fribble deposit from an "impending terrorist attack." Dissent was marginalized by reports of "overwhelming public opinion" in favor of public ownership of Fribbles. The WC ("We Care") association was established to defend "fair Fribble distribution."

Rupert's Fribble pit was seized and an electric fence secured the deposit. A machine gun nest stood at the gate. A permanent military base was constructed in Bigville. The price of Fribbles skyrocketed, but since only people in Bigville had ever bought Fribbles, no one in the lower 48 states even noticed.

Due to their convenient size, unique characteristics, intrinsic value, scarcity and durability, Fribbles were increasingly used in trade. WC endorsed their use as currency. All of the sudden, everyone wanted to get their hands on more Fribbles!

All government employees were paid in Fribbles. Well, they weren't actually paid in Fribbles, but notes that were redeemable in Fribbles. All international debts were also paid in Fribbles. Before long, all government debt was backed by Fribbles. Soldiers could now be sent to defend the United States against Fribble seeking terrorists and compensated with Fribble notes. Soon, Fribbles replaced the dollar entirely.

Few people actually had Fribbles. In fact, owning Fribbles themselves was illegal. Everyone used Fribble notes. One day, a scientist actually did some studies on a Fribble. In his Virginia laboratory, Dr. Danger poked them, froze them, crushed them, soaked them in acid, and even ate one. It tasted like strawberries. After several days of study, Dr. Danger was mesmerized by the amazing properties of the Fribble. He hypothesized they were indestructible.

Then, one day, Dr. Danger assembled all the leading scientists in the world to scrutinize the Fribble. He gave his first speech before a crowded outdoor amphitheater. With a Fribble placed before him, resting on a marble pedestal, Dr. Danger professed its wonders.

On this day, Virginia was in the midst of a record breaking heat wave. Never in recorded history had the mercury risen so high. In fact, this day was so hot, during his speech, the doctor frequently wiped sweat from his forehead and paused for a sip of water. Suddenly, at a point when all in attendance were focused on the Fribble, it vanished in a cloud of vapor.

It was soon disclosed that Fribbles indeed have one weakness. They evaporate instantly at precisely 110 degrees Fahrenheit.

The people realized Fribbles were of dubious intrinsic value.

Everything got real ugly after that.

Martin

The bell rang and Martin continued to paint. It was just another day in fourth grade, but this day had been better than most. More specifically, the painting on his desk was one he was particularly proud of. It was a landscape of a prairie with gray, snowcapped mountains in the distance. A stream originated at a distant lake and wound through a valley all the way to the vantage point where the sun glimmered off the dark blue surface and a brisk current cascaded over rocks. Only some of this actually existed on the paper, but he could picture it vividly. Lost in concentration he had almost forgot the orange and pear that sat in front of him. His creation wasn't the still life the rest of the class was painting. He was amazed the class was over already and glanced to his right to see the finished paintings of his neighbors - all very similar. His digression had somehow taken the whole hour and now he had no time for the assignment. He put away his watercolors and placed the painting on a cart on his way out.

In the hallway, Martin carried his books at his side on the way to his next class, math. He walked briskly in hopes he would have time to finish his homework in the ten minutes before class started. He wondered how his art teacher, Mrs. Hadley, would respond to his painting. She probably wouldn't like it. "Ug, why do I always do this sort of thing" he thought. Suddenly he felt his books lifted from beneath his elbow. They flew into the air in front of him scattering papers throughout the hallway. Laughter surrounded him and then faded down the hall as he knelt to pick them up. Mr. Gallaway, the math teacher shook his head as they passed by. The rest of the herd diverted to avoid walking over the mess. Martin was late for class. The homework was collected immediately.

Martin had a perceptive sense far beyond his years, and far beyond what anyone could expect. He saw bullying for what it was.

After school, Martin sat in the same seat on the way home. It was the fifth seat from the front. It was a Monday, so he didn't have any reason to stay at school. This day a couple older kids sat across from him, which was unusual and uncomfortable. On what sounded to Martin like a dare, one of them crossed the aisle, took a seat and began making small talk. "So, how about this weather," he said. Then, strangely, he stood in the aisle and placed his hands on the two seat backs to either side of him and looked directly at Martin. With little warning Martin felt a wet spray in his face which subsequently ran down his cheeks and onto his jacket. The boy wiped his mouth, turned and gave high fives to the others, laughing like hyenas. They got off the bus and Martin could relax for the rest of the ride. He felt ashamed and embarrassed.

The next day, Martin received the painting back from Mrs. Hadley. In the upper right corner there was a paper clip with a note. It read "Come see me." More disturbingly, there was a thick, black marking running from top to bottom. It read "F." Mrs. Hadley apologized for leaving the paintings out in the open. Apparently one of the other students thought this would be funny to steal it and make their own contribution. Mrs. Hadley allowed Martin to stay late after school and paint the still life. Martin did. He got an A-. Martin had seen better weeks, but he had also seen much worse.

Ten years later Martin killed 5 hostages in cold blood, throwing their bodies out of the 75th floor of an office building. He managed to convince the negotiators he was "serious" and secured a military escort by helicopter. While being lifted to the airport, Martin ejected the pilot who dragged his last hostage overboard in frenzied desperation. Martin took able control of the chopper himself, but two F-16s were scrambled from a nearby Air Force base. His charred body landed in an elementary school play lot during recess.

Politics

You don't want to read this post, do you. Why? Maybe because politics is a messy conversation about big questions that none of us really know the answer to. Maybe because we're heard such horrid ill-conceived and mis-informed intellectual diarrhea ejected from the mouths from people we otherwise trust and like. To refute such garbage risks offending the person and we don't really care to get into an argument - nor are we really prepared to discuss the subject. This often means the folks that are most vocal about their bad ideas get to reign free. We recoil as we would confronted with an obese lady in hot pants. We are the ones giving these folks carte blank to do or say whatever the hell they want with no challenge or recourse.

It makes you want to walk up, stand tall and scream "you gotta earn the right to wear hot pants!" But here, she could simply rebut "git out my face cracker" and you really have no solid way to refute that - no devastating argument to prove she is unfit for hot pants. Now, when Taxme Sam flails about screaming "100% of your income should go to the government," one could possibly construct a convincing argument to the contrary. It doesn't matter if Taxme is broadcasting on every channel, every radio station, or waking you up in the middle of the night with a megaphone. Any attempt at manipulation can be completely ignored. If you disagree, a solid case whispered into someone's ear could easily trump all the blaring nonsense.

But, besides the attempts at brainwashing, I think politics is most unappealing for other reasons. So much of it is not really about the issues or philosophy. It's about power. The politicians who are most hungry for power, and those who are most willing to discard ethics are the ones who most easily get ahead. They line their pockets with promises to vote in their contributers' favor. Then they use their money to try to get votes however necessary. Who knows who's guns are pointed at the backs of the candidates' heads at the debates. I certainly can't afford that kind of voice. I don't know anyone who can.

Someone who brings up politics these days is suspect. "Who had brainwashed this person," "what is their real motivation." I agree. Everyone is suspect. And then there are those that simply vote for one party or the other without regard for massive shifts in positions. Those who are capable of ignoring bull shit have the responsibility to counterbalance it. All the advertising in the world cannot compete with critical thinking and real facts. When choosing the next leader of the free world, I believe it is important to identify the one who's motivation is based on powerful philosophical ideas, not power.

Yes, "coming out" for a political candidate is difficult, and has not been an enjoyable experience. I could only do it for someone running for the right reasons who is not pandering to huge corporate interests or trying to take advantage of people's weaknesses. Someone who has proven he believes what he says (this guy has been laughed at for 30 years without changing his positions). Most importantly, I'm not necessarily in favor of the candidate himself - I am in favor of his ideas.

Free, clean energy

Rather than discuss the increasing cost of energy and its negative impacts on the environment, I'd like to focus on the solution. I do not think it is necessary to invest billions in hydrogen technology or build more hybrids. I do not necessarily find the answer in wind, solar, or ethanol (other than perhaps drinking copious amounts of it). I find it wasteful to neglect the abundant reserves of energy freely at our disposal, waiting to be unleashed frequently and with great vigor.

First, we must comprehend the huge potential of energy being wasted. I believe there is one abundant source completely untapped by the power companies...incompetence. Few deny it pervades our lives like a perpetual chlorine fog. Imagine if you will the canyons of nefarious waste and utter neglect of human potential sapped at the expense of pride and carelessness. Imagine the vast oceans of productivity frittered away by irrational decisions from ill-informed leaders. Where others see a great boulder on the back of society, I see solid gold.

Just imagine the pent up frustration built up inside the deft and knowledgeable underlings who participate in appeasing the egos of their inflated, burnt out, psychotic, or otherwise useless commanders, destroying all that is creative, honorable and good for the sake of securing next week's paycheck. Right now all this rage is generally wasted through cathartic outbursts directed at coworkers, spouses, neighbors, dogs, whatever. I propose we harness, concentrate and redirect this natural resource so that it can be used for constructive purposes.

Imagine the wrath that could be unleashed on the very subject of one's frustration - perhaps a padded representation of such filth affixed to the top of a pole beside every worker's chair. A sort of punching bag on a pedestal. Imagine the incessant pounding that could be delivered on a regular basis to such a statue. Now, mount this pedestal onto a generator's drive train beneath the floor. The electricity that could be collected and distributed to the power grid. Indeed, imagine acres of cubes with such mannequins being systematically pummeled for hours each day, blanketing the earth with free, clean energy. This is a noble dream my friends.

I'm Certified!

Greetings from your newest CERTIFIED BEER JUDGE! It's official, my criticisms of your brew can no longer be shrugged off as irrelevant and philistine. With a score of 70 my observations deserve modest acknowledgment if I'm the least bit sober. I have an actual certificate, pin, and detailed score sheet from Grand Master Steve Piatz. Time to sit back, relax, and have a home brew.

I am a firm believer in the people. If given the truth, they can be depended upon to meet any national crisis. The great point is to bring them the real facts, and beer. -Abraham Lincoln

rant

How is it possible that, in a world that has developed nuclear power, dippin' dots, even the nitrogen widget, we still have things like hunger and poverty. Is there really any excuse for this? What is preventing world prosperity from penetrating every corner of the world? What is preventing all counties not participating in civil war and genocide from acquiring the bare necessities? We have WIDGETS damnit!

I almost broke a home row key when I heard this today: "Need represents the individual who wants to take the money, greed represents the individual who wants to keep his or her money, and compassion is the sentiment of the politician who facilitates the transaction." (tears). An absolute perversion of the English language. This is what the income tax has done. Unless there is a large-scale awakening, it appears the poverty will continue. When will folks learn where prosperity comes from, and what allows it to overflow across the world? I believe it is a virtue too heartless in appearance to gain widespread support. It is a concept too misunderstood due to crimes of a bygone era perpetuated by those who never endured them. The true humanitarians are not good at stealing, lying, and manipulating, and seldom get elected.

Is it too contemptuous for an anarchist to accuse the collective of failure? I suppose it's the standard actually. Ha, I said it - you failed. All of you. The world still has problems because of you. You killed Kenny. Bastards! Blaming an abstract entity is pretty useless. A nation always fails unless it wins a war or something. That's because humanity always wins when left to its own devices - it's the norm. Lump us together and everyone starts feeding off everyone else. We could probably solve all the world's problems if we understood it wasn't about a country, party, or ideology wining and losing, but ourselves. But, for now, there is that warm fuzzy feeling of innocence. After all, if we're all in this together, there's no one to blame (or everyone). We are all captains of a sinking ship, standing at the wheel professing our superiority listening to Pink Floyd and watching South Park (without comprehension).

I can't accept full responsibility, but I will accept some for doing less than I can to resolve the problem. I'm probably being quite counterproductive at the moment, but there's just as much reason to hate me as any of the cockroaches who we elected. Actually, our parents and grandparents started all this - our great grandparents actually. Check out what happened in 1942 with income tax withholding (Beardsley Ruml I think) - it is the opposite of ginger cookies and milk. Then there's Social Security. They must be sweeter in their old age. (But they still vote.)

I'm not actually an anarchist, although I admit it's an attractive position - and not really as bad a thing as most people think. Still, I think the state has been up to no good for quite a while and affixed a Ron Paul bumper sticker to my truck. Someone I respect had something to say about what would happen to the peacemakers. (Unbelievable how the evangelicals have ruined the reputation of something so innocent - rrr...different blog). Back to not speaking in tongues and not brainwashing children.