Well, it was fun while it lasted, but I'm over here now: The Hopeful Midwife. Update your RSS if you're still in the mood.

Cheers!
-b

The Irish Men that Will Change the World.

I bought a 22" LG LCD TV (model 22LG30-UA) at Best Buy earlier, and to my utter disappointment, when I got it installed in my entertainment center, I noticed that when a dark scene in a movie cuts in, the contrast on my screen dips way low so that I can barely see the picture. Apparently this has something to do with the Intelligent Eye nonsense they stick on there to adjust to daylight, etc. This feature might work if you didn't have it boxed in an entertainment center (formerly an armoire) like I do.

Anyhoo, after searching forums for hours and spending a fruitless 20 mins of conversation with LG tech support, I finally discovered the fix on my own, thanks to my mad hacking skillz.

***DISCLAIMER***
What I've done involves accessing the hidden service menu and tinkering with a setting that may have other affects I'm not aware of. I've been using it like this for days now, and so far I'm very happy...

INSTRUCTIONS

1. Hold down the Menu button on the top of the TV while simultaneously holding down the Menu button on your remote control for about 10 seconds. A "Enter Passcode" box will appear. The code is all zeros.

2. Strangely, after bringing this menu up (and closing in with the Menu button on the remote), when you bring it up again sometimes it shows an entirely different menu. The menu you'll want has a "Factory Setting" option on it. You can either set this to "on" or "off." I set mine to "on," and after closing the menu, I noticed that the contrast flickering junk was completely gone.

3. If you're like me and you tinkered with the Picture settings to try to mitigate the contrast problem you might want to go to the normal menu and choose "Reset" and start adjusting your picture from scratch.

I hope Google picks up on this fix so that you don't waste the hours I have trying fix this.

Free-IQTest.net - Mensa IQ Test

My friend Jonathan Reinhardt is writing a novel, and he had the idea of using Wordle.net to create a montage of the most frequent words found in his novel.

I too am writing a novel:



In fact, if I don't finish it by the 31st of October, I don't graduate. This (graduation) is kind of key given that the part-time teaching position I've been offered is contingent upon my Masters degree. My evil plan is to transition into teaching full-time and never have to touch a computer again.

Labels: fat chance

if i understand correctly, you see the greatest drop in the stock market in two decades as a good thing?

if you're going to point me to Ron Paul and his Austrian School economics, and expect me to swallow that the financial market crash is not only inevitable but somehow part of the cleansing that must take place before healing can occur, i'd like to point out a few things that, in my opinion, ought to be taken into account before we celebrate congress' inability to pass the bailout bill.

have we, as the US sinned? very much so. kudos to "the good doctor" for predicting this perfect storm, and i couldn't agree more with him that the gov shouldn't print free money and we shouldn't keep charging things to this pie-in-the-sky national credit card.

the problem is that the perfect storm _has_ occured. the consequences of our sin have reared their ugly heads and we're heading for a cliff. can we wave a magic legislation-wand and *poof* all our problems away? no. no matter what happens in congress somebody's going to have to pay for this mess. the question isn't IF we're going to pay; it's WHO is going to pay.

on our current trajectory, the world's largest financial institutions are going to take a nasty plunge. who does this most directly affect? the constituents who are opposing this bill shout "WALL STREET," thinking that these executives with their golden parachutes are the ones who will bear the brunt of this fall. they couldn't be more wrong. the executives have already stored their parachutes in places that won't be touched by this mess. the people who will pay for this will be baby boomers. our country's largest demographic is getting ready to retire, and unfortunately the vast majority of their retirement is tied up in wall street through big financial institutions. in other words, the majority of the united states just watched as a quarter of their retirement got tossed out the window, on the brink of retirement. now, at 65 years of age, they can either sell their homes (at record low home values) or find a new job.

and remember: this isn't just US citizens we're talking about. because of Ron Paul's beloved Free Trade, the countries of the world are all tied up in this mess together. the united states has once again become the scurge of the international community.

so how would congress' bailout plan change things? if it's done right, it means that the consequences of our sin will be spread out over us as a nation. it means taxes across the board will go up, and instead of forcing the old to bear the brunt of this collapse, we as a nation will bear the burden together. instead of dumping our toxic debt onto international shoulders, we'll nut-up and take responsibility and ownership of our sin.

On this post, which is the poem I wrote about the toddler who was beat to death, I received the following comment:

God said:
That kid didn't pray enough.

This is my response:

God,

I'm truly humbled that you, in your infinitely busy day, took the time to become Logos on my blog! I never thought I'd witness a theophany before my death. I've truly been blessed. My sandals are off as I enter into this holy comment box.

I must say, however, that like Job questioning you after learning of the death of his children, I too question you--why you would let something so horrendous happen to an innocent child! After all, aren't you all-seeing and all-powerful? Couldn't you have stayed this man's hand?

Job's friends accused him similarly: he must have sinned. He didn't pray enough, so to speak. But that wasn't true! Job _knew_ he'd committed no sin big enough to warrant your injuries, God. So Job, in his sackcloth and ashes, called out to you. WHY? WHY GOD? WHY?

Your answer was very impressive in form, but not very satisfying in content. Though you appeared as a storm and reminded Job that you were the one that framed the Earth, you completely ignored the question! Instead of answering WHY you answered WHO!

You kind of did the same thing to Jesus when he was hanging on the cross. "WHY have you forsaken me?" he cried. Your answer was to shake the Earth and block out the sun. There too, you appeared as a storm. There too, you answered WHO instead of WHY.

Maybe you're trying to tell us something. Maybe you're trying to tell us that there is no answer to the WHY, at least not an answer we could comprehend. Maybe you're trying to tell us that what matters is the WHO. Who are you God? A storm. The framer of the Earth. Jealous. Angry. Merciful. Good. Love.

Sincerely,
Bryan

Tex appears like a ghost from the mirage, the wind tossing hair over his weathered forehead. His right hand hangs beside the gun at his hip; fingers twitching.

Maximo watches him approach. Bunched up in his left hand is a shirt, and languishing in that shirt is the Pinkertons man, the barrel of Maximo's six-shooter pressed viciously into his ear. "Any closer, Tex, and I'll send this man to--"

Tex's hand flashes and the dessert fills with thunder. Maximo looks down. The Pinkertons man is dead. "You damn rattlesnake!" Maximo's gun is now trained on Tex. In their heads they play out the battle. Each of them would stumble off into the dunes, a bullet rotting in their chest. "What're we gonna do now? Ain't enough bullets in this world to kill me dead without me killin' you first." Tex says nothing. "Hell, I wonder what makes men like us, willin' to kill men like this one here," he gestures at the bleeding man at his feet, "just to get at each other."

Tex's voice creaks like dry leather: "Shiva. The god of death. From our pistols spring the headwater of the Ganges, the water bearing the dead unto the heavens."

"Is that so? Well what in tarnation are we doin' shootin' at each other? Hell, there's a whole town down there, folks just waitin' to be sent to heaven."

Tex and Maximo bust into the Sick Dog Saloon, fire spitting from their guns. They lay waste to the sherrif and his posse. Tex picks up a spent shell. "The vessels of the herem."

"Huh?"

"In the time of Joshua the Lord spoke unto the nation of Israel, commanding them to consecrate the promised land, to annihilate the Midianites, the Amalekites, the children of Jericho."

"I ain't killin' no children."

"Suit yourself."

Tex and Maximo blaze a trail of blood from Ticonderoga to the rainforests of Tikal. Deep beneath the Mayan ruins Tex's dagger unearths a golden vial. He drinks half, hands the rest to Maximo. "Drink up. If we're the flood that cleanses the earth anew, we'll need to live forever."

With liquid gold coursing through their immortal veins, Tex and Maximo ride horses and railcars and camels and elephants, all manner of beast and mechanical conveyance into the hearts of civilization. In Washington their Gatling guns perforate the timber frames of the White House. As a single drop of rain alights upon the cenotaph of the Taj Mahal, Tex and Maximo slay the princes of Agra. Their cannon balls crash through the yellow glazed tiles of the Forbidden City, the whizzing round of a .22 silences the last emperor of China.

In England, in Russia, in France, in Spain; no army holds them back, no words win purchase on their hearts. They are as inexorable as the setting sun, death blossoms as red lilies on the chests of all men. The women and children have taken to boats, and all are lost at sea. At long last only Tex and Maximo remain, teeth blackened by gun powder, hands arthritic from the pulling of triggers.

Tex and Maximo rest alone upon the earth, sheltering beneath a bower of marsh, cradled between the Tigris and Euphrates. "Whew boy! That was some mighty fine shootin' Tex." Tex grins. Says nothing. "Say, why do they call you Tex anyhow?"

Tex removes his hat, wipes the sweat from his brow. "I suppose because I was born in Shreveport, Texas."

"Shreveport? Hell, Tex, that ain't in Texas! Well I'll be a suck-egg mule, I reckon that makes you Louise!"

Louise's eyes grow wide, she looks down, and for the first time notices breasts beneath her red gingham shirt. She unbuckles her holster, lies back against her salt marsh bed. "Be fruitful, and multiply, and replenish the earth, and subdue it: and have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over every living thing that moveth upon the earth."

Maximo smiles.

i surrender
i forfeit this fight
place a coin on
each of my eyes

take my armor
take my shield
lay me down in
elysian fields

to my wife i leave this song
to my mother: i won't be long

The spread of cancer.