A hot mug of horror

Winter is finally here. And really nothing beats snuggling up with a nice big mug of hot chocolate and a good horror novel. I am particularly partial to Stephen King’s line of both.

Many people are unaware that their favorite horror writer and their favorite hot chocolatetier are one and the same person. Stephen King’s lifelong affection for the macabre is only transcended by his penchant steaming hot chocolate. He has had the fortune of achieving remarkable success on both fronts.

Of course, to truly appreciate either, you must have both. On the other side, however, it is often confusing and frustrating to be experiencing the dark recesses of human depravity with a hint of mint on your tongue. Likewise, who wants to imagine gibbering mutant freaks with peanut butter cups on their palate?

In that light I have prepared a list of book to flavor pairing for your next hedonistic escapade:

• Stephen’s Peanut Butter cup cocoa would be an excellent compliment to Stephen King’s The Mist. Beware of the mysterious unidentifiable floaty things.


• Stephen’s Milk Chocolate Cocoa has a classic taste. Try it while reading Pet Semetary. The flavor is almost earthy. Almost exhumed gravey.
• Stephen’s Belgian Dark Cocoa is a must for the Dark Tower series.


• While reading Misery, try Stephen's Orange Creme. When it comes to Orange Creme, I'm its number one fan.


• Stephen's Raspberry pairs nicely with Rita Hayworth and the Shawshank Redemption. Raspberry is light on the palate, with a hint of hope.


• Stephen's Irish Creme is a perfect complement to the Green Mile. In fact, the main character's name is a subtle nod to the flavor.


• Stephen’s Cherry Chocolate is a very appropriate pairing with It. The strong overtones of cherry are reminiscent of fun times at the carnival and the bright red noses of clowns.


• Stephen's Chocolate Mint Truffle is an electric compliment to the Stand. Now whenever I think of the end of the world (or Christmas), I taste mint.


• Read Eyes of the Dragon with Stephen’s Gourmet Candycane Cocoa. Be sure to use a napkin.


• Stephen’s Mexican Chocolate is a very fitting compliment to Firestarter. Just make sure it's hot.


• Try reading Dead Zone with Stephen’s Italian Amaretto Cocoa. That nutty flavor will leave you sensing the future every time. I just wish I could have sipped a little and shaken Obama's hand . . . just in case.


• Drink Stephen’s Chocolate Cinnamon Cocoa while reading The Shining. Remember, "all work and no cocoa makes Jack a dull boy."


• Stephen’s Dulce De Leche Caramel would work well with Insomnia. This book just doesn't work without the desperate exhaustion created by warm milk.


• Read Thinner with Stephen’s No Sugar Added Hot Cocoa. I think no additional explanation here is needed.

I hope this list is helpful. Perhaps the most exiting tid-bit I can share, however, is the exciting marketing move King enterprises has recently made. Stephen King has final come to terms with this secret duel enterprise, as evidenced by his latest labeling campaign.

Election day apocalypse

It has always been interesting to me that revealed truth comes phonetically. When the Book of Mormon was originally translated it contained almost no punctuation. Most of the punctuation was added in 1830 by the printer. I wonder if perhaps there may be other auditory accidentals in the Book of Mormon. Are there places where a verbalization was revealed, and a homophone was accidentally recorded?

Perhaps, when the prophet heard the word "abomination," what was really intended was "Obama nation."

Consider the following:

The Book of Helaman, Chapter 7, versus 25-28:

• Yea, wo be unto you because of that great [Obama Nation] which has come among you; and ye have united yourselves unto it, yea, to that secret band which was established by Gadianton!
• Yea, wo shall come unto you because of that pride which ye have suffered to enter your hearts, which has lifted you up beyond that which is good because of your exceedingly great riches!
• Yea, wo be unto you because of your wickedness and [Obama Nations]!
• And except ye repent ye shall perish; yea, even your lands shall be taken from you, and ye shall be destroyed from off the face of the earth.

I'll leave it to you to decide.

Make your vote count! Vote Twice!

It is the solemn responsibility of every blogger to “weigh” in their two cents during the election season. It is impossible to have no bias, so we might as well take a side. Here is my four cents:

The “Man” wants you to believe that the US government is a democracy. Government by the people. Each vote carrying equal weight. At least that’s what they say. Maybe that’s what they believe. Really, that’s my point.

I believe a government should be founded solidly in Noocracy. (i.e. government by the intelligent.) Specifically, a democracy where your vote is weighted by your intelligence. Statisticians weight survey responses all the time. Some people are unfortunately under-represented in the sample---this must be compensated for through proper weighting during statistical tests.

For whatever reason, I believe that rational, intuitive thinkers are under-represented in our government. I can only assume they must therefore be under-represented at the polls. It only makes sense to statistically compensate.

There are really two approaches to this model:

Approach 1
The first (and significantly more appropriate approach) is a macro-scale, top-down approach that eliminates votes that shouldn’t count. For example, one Dell Schanze (who affectionately refers to himself as “SuperDell”) is making a “Totally Awesome” run for the Governor of Utah.

I think that’s great.

It perfectly illustrates my point.

I believe when all is said and done, when all the votes are tallied, any social security number associated with a “SuperDell” vote should receive a weight of zero. In every election. Forever.
Don’t mistake me for taking away their right to vote. They can vote all they like. And when they vote, I think we should smile and nod, move to the next person and resume counting. Certainly, they don’t need to know no one is listening---we’re not trying to hurt anyone’s feeling here.

Alternatively, ballots could be equipped with at least some kind of survey instrument that measures at least minimal awareness of the issues / candidates being voted on. If a voter doesn’t have a clue---their vote doesn’t count. That would at least reduce ignorant noise/random error in elections.

Unfortunately, this approach relies on a rational, noocratic government to start the ball rolling. So how can you kick-start noocracy?

Approach 2

Cheat. Vote twice. This is noocracy at the grassroots level. It may be a bit Social Darwinistic, but I think people who are smart enough to figure out a way to vote twice without getting caught, deserve to receive a bit more weight at the polls. (Of course, this ~may~ be already happening [wink, wink] but obviously it is not happening enough.) If everyone tries to vote twice, the less intelligent will land in prison, leaving only the more intelligent voters to choose our representatives. And our course, our newly elected and uniquely qualified government will have some ingenious, spectacular solution to our sudden prison overcrowding problem.

So get out there and vote. Then, to quote my shampoo bottle (since I don’t have anything else to do with it) “repeat.”

Playing Tag

I really never thought I would actually play one of those obnoxious, I-don't-have-anything-to-write-about-so-I-guess-I-answer-a-long-list-of-self-serving-questions-pretending-other-people-are-interested tag games. I always figure no blog is better than a painful, space-filling blog. But since I am self-serving, and I can't think of anything to discuss, perhaps I'll tackle the challenge. (and since my sister tagged me ever so politely.)

RULES: Answer the questions using only one word. Then tag four other people. Maybe you'll learn something new and with one word answers it will be short.

(Warning: I've never been big on rules, so no promises.)

1. Where is your cell phone? Roaming
2. Your significant other? Superego
3. Your hair? MIA
4. Your mother? Mothering
5. Your father? Mothered ;^)
6. Your favorite thing? Thing 2 (He always seemed more sincere.)
7. Your dream last night? Kinky
8. Your favorite drink? The marrow of life
9. Your dream/goal? See #7
10. The room you’re in? YOURS! Muhahahahaha!
11. Your hobby? Procrastination (it's a talent really.)
12. Your fear? Dead animals. (seriously. I imagine dead people would fit in there too.)
13. Where do you want to be in 6 years? 2014
14. What you’re not? Done (17 to go)
15. Muffins? Yes. (That's why I don't wear those halter tops anymore.)
16. One of your wish list items? Tightwad! (Just one? I want them all!)
17. Where you grew up? See #13
18. The last thing you did? Answer #17
19. What are you wearing? A glazed look
20. Favorite gadget? Don Adams (The original!)
21. Your pets? Depends. (Did they break something?)
22. Your computer? On.
23. Your mood? Contageous
24. Missing someone? N/A (I don't even own a gun.)
25. Your car? Parked (legally, I might add.)
26. Something you’re not wearing? Patience. (I hope.)
27. Favorite store? Abadoned (But still fully stocked.)
28. Like someone? Bruce Willis (ideally. A bald John Goodman is more realistic.)
29. Your favorite color? IKB
30. When is the last time you laughed? Writing #28 (#29 wasn't that funny.)
31. Last time you cried? See previous blog entry (July 23, 2008).

I tag Kristin, Amber, Rebekah, and Eileen. (You didn't say "no tag backs!")

PRK vs. Lasik

Four weeks ago I participated in the modern miracle that is laser eye-correction surgery. My perspective is somewhat unusual however, "seeing" (HAH!) as how I participated in a research study conducted at local medical school. My left eye received PRK treatment, and my right Custom Lasik. This gives me the ability---nay, the solemn responsibility---to educate inquisitive eyeball-modification aspirants in their choice.

The Choices

PRK stands for Post-Rectal Knitting. The "post-rectal" area--the area exactly opposite your bum, is, of course, your eye. The term original comes from the concept of getting to your eyeball via your back-pocket (i.e., wallet.) Even at a dramatic guinea pig discount, the surgery isn't cheap. "Knitting" refers to the size of the needle they stick in your eye to hold your eyelid open. More about that later . . .

Lasik is just a friendlier term for "Set your phasers on disintegrate." If they called it Laser, you would immediately think about all those warnings they have on those little Laser-pointers that very clearly say "DON'T SHINE THIS IN YOUR EYE!!!". You might at that point have second thoughts when you see the surgical table with the gigantic James-Bond-Villain-style laser pointed at one end. You see, this isn't a Laser, per se, it's a Lasik--it's like a cute, fuzzy Pokémon character, only the "Poké" is in your eye.

Pre-surgery

I had two evaluations before the surgery. Each one consisted of long explanations of what was going to happen, plenty of 70's sci-fi props, the ritualistic reading of letters from across the room, and opportunities to back out. If you look closely in the eyes of your nurses, you can sometimes catch a glimpse of their panicked and pleading fear--their desperate yearning to scream "Run! Now! Before it is too late! Never look back!", at the same time knowing that their paychecks depend on you not finding out . . .

The Surgery

There is a certain kind of energy that only comes in anticipation of elective surgery. It is kind of like getting to the top of the line of a water slide, but one where you searched the whole water park and couldn't see exactly where the slide emptied into a splash pool, so somewhere deep inside you wonder if it actually does, or if the slide is just slowly filling up with a blockage of dead bodies . . . kind of like that.

As I entered the surgery room, they were testing the laser, which happens to sound exactly like a taser. That was not a soothing sound. ("Don't Lase me bro!") I was laid down on the surgery table, given a teddy bear to hold, and placed under a suspiciously warm blanket. I snickered to myself at the thought of needing a teddy bear, until I noticed the bare spots where fur had been pulled out by the handful. Nice.

For a moment I reflected on that disturbing scene in Flash Gordon where a Lasik surgery gone awry reduces the doctor to a pre-zygotic vegetable. (I find it very help to reflect on movies during surgery--it helps lighten the mood. For example, during your wife's C-Section, it is helpful to discuss the disemboweling scene from Braveheart, or perhaps the "birth"-scene from the movie Alien. She'll think you're hilarious, I promise.)

The real differences between the procedures is in the preliminary work on our eyeball:

In Lasik a gigantic suction cup is attached to your eyeball. I am not sure of the details of this part because my conscious mind has not yet come to terms with the fact that it actually happened. My wife warned me going in that the procedure may trigger suppressed memories of alien abduction (as per "Fire in the Sky.") What I think is much more likely, however, is if I am ever abducted by aliens, it will trigger suppressed memories of Lasik surgery. I remember I had the uncontrollable urge to clamp my eye shut, as if I was hanging from a trapeze holding on with nothing but my eyelid. For all I know, they suctioned my eyeball out completely and were passing it around the room to be polished on someone's shirt sleeve.

PRK is a more subtle procedure. The doctor just splashes some kind of acid jelly in your eye, then after a few minutes of sizzling, uses a miniature garden hoe to scrap of the top layer of your cornea. This sounds painful, but feels like you are walking on the moon now that the suction cup is off the other eye . . .

Then comes the Tasering . . . I didn't feel a thing. I had been warned about the smell of boiling eyeball juice before, so I held my breath. It lasted eight seconds for each eye. By "eight seconds" I mean, eight 30-minute periods of intense trying to focus on an orange light that I couldn't see because the top of my eyeballs were missing, without moving. Somewhere deep down I was absolutely certain that Utah's way overdue earthquake was going to hit any second.

PRK has one additional step that you skip in Lasik---the Waterboarding. They wash the gel out of your eye using ice water. It sounds innocent enough, certainly not as bad as Acid gel, but trust me on this point--it is much, much worse. According to my memory (and let me remind you I think there are some things my memory may still be repressing), this is the worst part of the surgery. Imagine an ice-cream headache, but rather than it coming on gradually, you surrendered control of the spoon and have ice-cream injected intravenously directly to that spot on your forehead. On top of that, and very unexpectedly, I couldn't breathe. I completely sympathise with how horrifying Waterboarding must be, because for those 30 seconds cold water was being poured on my eye, I had to frantically persuade my body that I was not actually drowning. That is not a sensation I am anxious to repeat.

After the surgery, you are still flat on your back, clenching a couple handfuls of teddybear fur. Eyeballs still pried open. Doctors engaged in some casual conversation about local restaurants, while they wander the room taking turns dropping chemicals in your eyes. I think they just opened the doors and let anyone in the waiting room come in a drop anything they want into my eyes---there was an awful lot of chatting and dripping going on.

From there it is easy, just a few minutes of sitting with your eyes closed, while seductive-voiced females give you instructions for eye-care. (It was actually impossible to avoid sneaking a peek at the distinctive sound of unzipping---as she placed my eyedrops into a little zippered bag.)

The Recovery

Four weeks later, recovery has been fairly easy. A couple trips to the doctor, a couple of nights with ridiculous looking eye shields, that somehow find their way under the bed in the middle of the night, developing a knack for putting in eye-drops, nothing too exciting. It really wasn't nearly as difficult as I imagined to not rub your eyes. (Before surgery, just thinking about not being able to rub my eyes made them itch.)

My PRK eye is still pretty fuzzy, at my last check up it was 20/50. My Lasik eye is 20/15. Rumor has it that these next couple of weeks should be magic for that PRK eye however.

My Recommendation

Based on my experience, I think I would recommend Lasik to most people--it is hard to beat that almost instantaneous recovery time. It does have some worst-case scenario drawbacks, like the fact that your eyeballs might explode if you are in a plane that looses pressure, or a punch to the face might dislodge your eye flap. In either case, your probably have bigger problems to deal with anyway . . .

The recovery with PRK is slow enough that if both eyes received that treatment, I would be effectively incapacitated. I would have to be waited on hand and foot, I wouldn't be able to drive, or cook, or clean. I would just need someone to kowtow to my every whim . . . for weeks . . . hmmm.
PRK. Definitely. Go with PRK.

(Follow-up posted 2/6/09)

The Rules on the Refrigerator

In my home, it has been a long standing tradition to refer to the "The Rules on the Refrigerator." The tradition of nailing theses to frequented locales is a time-honored long-standing tradition. In ancient times, before the advent of the technology of refrigeration, large stone slabs, or cathedral doors were often used.

Although, in my family of origin these often cited documents were purely hypothetical in nature, we all new exactly what they were, and could recite them on demand.

With my own family, I would like to continue that tradition, and perhaps do it one better: Publish said proscriptive documentation to the web.

Here it goes, as recorded on our refrigerator, complete with the reasoning behind them:

Be Polite

Every time you belch (or swear, talk with your mouth full, etc.), the man or woman of your dreams dies. A quick and sincere “Excuse me” might save him/her. Maybe. Barely.

Be Obedient

Once dad starts counting, he can’t stop until the assigned task has begun. If he reaches the number five, untold horrors are released on the world. Ancient evil slumbering gods will awaken, and the universe as we know it will cease to exist.

Be Happy

Every time you whine, neener, or complain, somewhere in the world a butterfly poops. You don’t want to the world to be filled with butterfly poop, do you? NOTE: This rule fulfills the ancient law: “Cry babies will go to their room and not get what they cry for”, and its corollary variant “. . . cry what they get for.”

Be Kind

Never decrease another’s happiness. In the last day the total number of bubbles in our respective celestial Jacuzzis is directly proportional to the cumulative net increase of ‘HU’s accrued over your life-time. (HU = Happiness Unit, or the equivalent of a smile lasting one second on a one-year-old person.)

Be Loyal

If you dishonor yourself, home, parents, spouse, siblings, or kids, you dishonor the whole family. Your children and your children’s children will rue the day you brought shame to the family name. They will blot out their own names to avoid association with the fallen and disgraced family of Stanley. Family comes first, and only marriage comes before children. NOTE: At the age of 21 you earn a single disloyalty exemption to betray your family one time. Use it wisely.

Focusing on our strengths . . .

I have no idea how BYU is doing on the sports front. I understand they win some and they loose some. This bit of information continuously vexes the fanatical following of Cougar fans who seem to hinge their testimony on the triumph of "God's football team."

I am all behind BYU being God's University. I have a bit of news for those Cougar-ragous blue bloods however . . .

1. God doesn't care about football.
2. God cares about chocolate milk.

BYU keeps pretty tight lips about the salaries of their lead employees. I suspect however, there is one executive that makes more that the head coach: the director of the creamery. Meeting in secret in the tunnels under the campus, the Chocus Dei consists of four emeritus members of the quorum of the seventy, who together are the sole keepers of the ancient recipe. For decades that secret organization has protected the secret of their ambrosia in chocolate.

Rumor has it that Dan Brown is currently working on a ground-breaking novel exposing this whole organization, and their long, delicious history.

Footprints in the Sand

It had always puzzled me. The footprints . . .


In 1936 Mary Stevenson penned the wildly famous all-time-greatest-poetry-single, "Footprints in the Sand." Since that time her compelling words have been cannonized into bookmarks, inspirational posters, coffee mugs, T-shirts--all the usually places you look for Holy Writ.

Revelation came in the form of an email this morning, the forwarded wisdom recorded by one from another, passing between e-mailboxes until it came to me. (The standard method for disseminating powerful truths.)

To quote:

The bishop said that during Jesus' time, when a sheep made a habit out of running away the shepherd did indeed go after it, but when he found it . . . he would break the sheep's leg.
"This is what Jesus does to us," the bishop said. "Then he oh so tenderly sets the leg."
That's why you see all those pictures of the shepherd walking around with a sheep slung over his neck. The shepherd broke the sheep's leg . . . and therefore the sheep is now completely reliant on the shepherd. They grow very close this way.

It is in that light I would propose a minor addition to Mary's poem to explicitly express this powerful doctrine.

Footprints in the Sand

One night I dreamed I was walking along the beach with the Lord. Many scenes from my life flashed across the sky. In each scene I noticed footprints in the sand. Sometimes there were two sets of footprints, other times there was one only.

This bothered me because I noticed that during the low periods of my life, when I was suffering from anguish, sorrow or defeat, I could see only one set of footprints, so I said to the Lord,

"You promised me Lord, that if I followed you, you would walk with me always. But I have noticed that during the most trying periods of my life there has only been one set of footprints in the sand. Why, when I needed you most, have you not been there for me?"

The Lord replied, "The years when you have seen only one set of footprints, my child, is when I [SNAPPED YOUR LEG LIKE A TWIG, SLUNG YOU SCREAMING OVER MY SHOULDER, AND] carried you.