Thursday, October 20, 2011

1001 Ways To Tune Up The World, Number Seventy-Eight


78. A "Stay-On" Button On Your TV that you have to press every 20 minutes to keep the TV on.

We have a "sleep" function on our TV that lets us set our TV to automatically turn off anywhere from 15 minutes to 120 minutes from when we turn it on, thereby guaranteeing that I will never have to say "Well, I'm pretty sleepy now, better turn off the TV and go to bed" and then have to risk whole minutes in which my brain is not given something to hear/see/think about.

(Actually, for me, that's a good thing. Being left alone with my thoughts results in me coming up with stuff like this.)

The other night, I was watching TV, unable to sleep, and I realized that Sweetie had set the timer because suddenly the "60 second countdown" feature came on: the screen at the bottom showed 60... 59... 58 and let me know that if I didn't do something in less than a minute, I'd be TV-less.

The remote control was right next to the TV, which, when you think about it, is a useless place to have a remote control. But I laid there in bed for a few seconds, watching the timer, and pondering whether I wanted to get up and go re-set the TV or if I should just let it turn off and try to get to sleep without it.

If you've read this blog for even 3.2 seconds you know what I decided: I got up and turned off the sleep timer and then for good measure got my smart phone, because screw you, private thoughts, and watched Mission: Impossible 3 and didn't get to sleep until about 4 a.m.

But somewhere in the jumble of Jonathan Rhys Meyer's quips, I had the idea that if TVs were equipped with a switch that would automatically turn off the TV every 20 minutes, and the switch was on the TV, then every 20 minutes or so, we'd have to re-evaluate whether we really wanted to watch that TV show or movie, and maybe we'd end up staying up and watching as Tom Cruise shows Fake Katie Holmes how to shoot a gun, but maybe we'd end up doing something else once in a while, too.

Also: Because he sent me a haiku on Twitter, here's some Jonathan Rhys Meyer's clips. He can really sing, as you'll see:









Prior entries:Link











































13. Ban driving any kind of automobile, motorcycle or other personal vehicle within 1-2 miles of downtown in any city with a population of more than 100,000.

12. Abolish gym class; instead, teach kids to play musical instruments.


11. Change copyright laws to allow anyone to use anyone else's creative work provided that the copier pay 60% of the profit to the originator and that the copier not cast the original work in a negative light.

10. Have more sidewalk cafes and outdoor seating.

9. When you have to give someone a gift, ask them what they want, and then get that thing for them.

8. Never interrupt or finish someone's jokes.

7. Periodically, give up something you like for at least a month.

6. Switch to "E-money."

5. Have each person assigned one phone number, and then add an extension for the various phones and faxes that person might be reached at.

4. Abolish Mondays and Tuesdays.

3. Don't listen to interviews with athletes or comedians.

2. Have "personal cashiers" at the grocery store.

1. Don't earn more than $200,000 per year.





Is this working? You bet --


1001 Ways also helped change the world here!


And

1001 Ways also helped change the world here!

and

1001 Ways helped change the world here, too!

Tuesday, October 18, 2011

It was like my own personal Bridge To Terabithia (I Get Paid For Doing This)

About every two months or so, I have to drive out to Richland County. The drive itself is boring: the road is almost completely straight for about 60 miles with little to nothing by way of scenery.

But what I liked about it was that halfway through, there was an old metal bridge that was, for a while, rusted and painted a kind of blue. The bridge crossed the Wisconsin River (I think it's the Wisconsin River) and driving across it for some reason always made me smile, the quick-flicks of shadows flitting over my windshield and my face, the old-timey-ness of the bridge making me think, for some reason, of childhood -- the bridge seemed to filter the sunlight in such a way that everything, for just a second, was both brighter and somehow faded.

Then they built the new bridge, and now when I cross the Wisconsin River, this is as close as I get to the Old Bridge:



Sometimes progress isn't.