Friday, November 3, 2017

For the Record, Scale Check

A new low milestone has been achieved, but it's a total cheat.

Why? Because I weighed myself in the aftermath of getting roaringly sick last Friday night.

How sick? I threw up. That's a headline, because I never throw up. Hadn't done so in quite literally decades. And this was no mere spitting up thing; it was total projectile vomiting, Exorcist-style, so violent that my sides ached for days thereafter. I ate nothing the following day, then only ate a little bit in the ensuing couple of days before I weighed myself Tuesday morning, when I recorded the figures shown above.

Plus I wound up suffering some pretty severe diarrhea--some of it at the same time as the vomiting (!)--that only went away (I think) within the last 24 hours (it's Friday evening next as I type this).

So it makes sense that I was quite literally empty of stomach and probably pretty dehydrated, too, when I stepped on the scale.

Bottom line: the weight loss exhibited above is not likely to last, and probably doesn't represent a real push below 250 such as I had hoped to achieve before the end of the year. My weight may have already bounced back up (especially as I haven't exercised in a week, for obvious reasons). But I like seeing a sub-250 number on the scale so much--first time I've seen anything like 245 in at least 15 years--that I just had to post the pic. (I did see a sub-250 reading in late August, but that too was a cheat, as I stepped on the scale after I showed post-exercise, so it was all water-weight loss).

Hopefully, there will be real progress again sometime in the near future.

Saturday, September 23, 2017

Recently Read

Call of the Cats
by Andrew Bloomfield

There are two possible takeaways from reading Andrew Bloomfield's Call of the Cats: What I learned about Life and Love from a Feral Colony.

One is that Bloomfield is an uncommonly dedicated animal lover, one who devoted a huge part of his life to taking care of a group of backyard cats for little more than the intangible rewards of good deeds done (and maybe, perhaps, a decent writing contract).

The other potential takeaway is that Bloomfield confirms many observers' perceptions of cat people as weird, off-center, and perhaps more than a little crazy.

Call of the Cats
Andrew Bloomfield's Call of the Cats
The latter notion comes through to the reader less by way of the author's interaction with the cats in his neighborhood's large feral colony and more through what Bloomfield reveals about himself in the process of telling his story. In various diversions, Bloomfield discusses his time in Nepal, his on-again, off-again work as an astrologer, his spectacularly unsuccessful career as a day trader, his time as a dealer in rare Asian artworks...in short, Bloomfield relates the story of a peripatetic working life in which he apparently did everything except hold a normal job. The implication--no normal job because he's no normal person--seems clear, and certainly reinforces the notion that someone who would dedicate himself so vigorously to taking care of a group of cats--who often feel substantially less care for him--is probably a bit of a misfit, at least as far as the general rules of society go.

Nothing particularly revealing there. Those of us who love cats, in general, would have no problem with characterizing ourselves as misfits. In this world, dog owners are clearly deemed to be the normal people; they fit in, and one could even say they come across as quite satisfied with themselves. No such comfort exists for cat lovers, particularly those who really love cats. Bloomfield, apparently, qualifies on all counts there.

If you can get past the author's eccentricity, you do get an interesting and informative portrait of just how difficult it can be to handle--literally and figuratively--a colony of feral cats. The stories range from heartening--tales of this or that cat's recovery from a seemingly fatal illness--to heartbreaking--the devastation wreaked upon the colony, and particularly its kitten population, by the local predator population (coyotes, raccoons, opossums). It ain't easy living out there in the spaces in between, and it can be a harrowing experience if you're trying to help the cats who have settled into those spaces. That message shines through in Bloomfield's writing, at least as strongly as the characterization of the author himself does.

If there's any problem with Call of the Cats, it's mostly from a sense that the tale told in the book is comprised of many disjointed segments; a sense of flowing narrative rarely comes out of these pages. (Bloomfield's personal diversions do as much harm to that sense of flow as they do to his chance of being perceived as normal.) Also, the cast of feline characters grows too large at certain points for the casual, not-entirely-attentive reader to keep straight. The reader winds up feeling muddled in more than one stretch of the book's length.

But it's hard for a cat lover to make too negative an assessment of a book like this, and for an author who clearly exposes a deep and abiding love for the subjects of his literary inspiration. Those of us who deem ourselves to be true feline friends will find more than enough pleasure from Call of the Cats. And even the dog people among us, if they're feeling charitable towards their eccentric neighbors--and can get past feeling so satisfied with themselves--might get a bit of joy out of this very cat-centric book, too. It's certainly worth picking it up and giving it a try.

Friday, September 1, 2017

For The Record, Scale Check


This marks the barest minimum of progress, but nevertheless it is progress. I shaved another half pound off the weight, as of this past Tuesday, and got things down to 251.0 lbs. This is good, exciting, and impressive, though I fear it also sets me up for some failure in the near future. I know that, since this morning weigh-in on Tuesday, I've probably packed a few pounds back on, thanks to a couple of crises that played hell with my psyche, as well as my daily eating and exercise regimen. Plus it's dangerously hot outside right now, so not much I can do for exercise at the moment.

This might very well be the last of these posts for the remainder of the year, given the season that is approaching...but I've been surprised before. Hopefully, I have more of that in store in the not too distant; otherwise, I'll just have to be satisfied with achieving another low weight milestone for this year, and there is positive promise for the coming times.

Friday, August 25, 2017

For the Record, Scale Check


It's a new low weight. A full pound lower than the last achievement, 251.5 vs. 252.5.

An astute observer will notice that this photo was taken in a location that's different from the place where I usually do my weigh-ins. Indeed, I'm housecatsitting at the moment, and that's actually the floor of the main bathroom in my hosts' house. Being in a different living arrangement--which will continue for another month or so--has been helpful, to say the least. Easier to stay away from bad influences here.

What's also significant here is not simply the number, but when the number showed up. Here in late August is normally when I would have, in previous times, figured that the losing season was just about up, and that there was not likely to be much progress from here on out. But last year, I acheived a new low reading late in the year, sometime in November if I remember right. And I have other motivations pushing me at the moment (mysterious, I know; maybe I'll tell you all about it sometime), so I'm anticipating getting my weight down even lower before the holiday calorie-packing season really gets under way in earnest.

So good news, and there's still promises of better news on the horizon. Cool.

(By the way, I actually got a 249.5 reading a few days prior to this, but that was a cheat; I weighed myself after exercising and on a cavernously empty stomach, not the official "first thing in the morning" weigh-in, so that one doesn't count. But it was the first sub-250 reading I've seen since...frankly, I really don't know since when. Early in 2001? Probably. I can't wait to get the chance to post an official sub-250 pic on a future scale check; hopefully before the end of the year.)

Tuesday, August 15, 2017

Taylor's Laws

An occasional series in which I promulgate certain laws of nature, to help us better understand the universe around us.

Taylor's First Law of Social Motion

For every action there is an opposite, unequal, and stupid reaction.

Explication: A fairly straightforward principle derived from basic observation of the social media sphere. Any thought or idea presented on social media, however minor in importance and innocent in nature, will be met with a reaction that is disproportionate in its scope and negativity.

Wednesday, July 5, 2017

For The Record, Scale Check


And here we are, back from the lengthy vacation, and 5.5 pounds have dropped away in 26 days. This was almost an anticipated result, something I daresay I expected, based upon previous results and the expected duration of the trip. (I actually cut it short by a couple of days, but for the most part it went exactly as I expected.) 

The good side of this lies in the plain fact that this certainly represents a new low mark achieved in the now almost 10 year project to get myself back to relative healthiness and humanity. And it's a clear new low mark, not just a "barely counts" move where I just barely beat the old mark by a half a pound or so; this is a real, substantial move down the scale.

The down side comes from the fact that, now that I'm back in the cesspool of my everyday existence, I've probably already gained back much of the lost weight. That can be depressing, if I let it be; but for now I'm focusing on the fact that this experience serves as another proof of concept, that if I get myself out and living on my own terms, I can expect to see positive developments in my life, and certainly in terms of my health.

Thursday, June 15, 2017

For The Record, Scale Check

This is barely a new low weight, but technically, it fits the description. The really encouraging thing about this weigh-in is that it came before I left for a month-long vacation. Since I tend to lose weight on vacations, I have high hopes that my next weigh-in, after returning to the home base, will mark a new low weight. All in all, things are very encouraging on the weight front.

Thursday, March 16, 2017

PC Has Its Limits

Just happened to catch this sign on a trip to the local Safeway this past week:

Irish Carbomb mixed drink sign
A sign on a display at the local Safeway. No, there weren't any protesters out front of the store.
It's something of a cliche at this point, but: I can't imagine the amount of outrage that would be expressed over this sign if the ethnicity being...what?...lampooned? mocked? satirized?...by this mixed drink's name were any of the more "endangered" species among us. Carbombs are generally not considered sources of humor these days, though my personal sense of humor can manage it. For the most part, however, the bulk of the bodies around us would tend to see this as in poor taste--if it referenced someone other than a safely white, non-oppressed subgroup.

As it was, the display seemed to attract no particular attention on the day I was in the store. I made a quick move to snap the pic above--it's a little blurry because I didn't linger over it; I expected to get some guff from someone representing the store if I was spotted snapping that shot--just simply to share it with everyone, just to see if anyone finds it in any particular way offensive.

By the way, I highly recommend NOT being offended by this sort of thing; it just seems like people have an affinity these days for getting offended by just about whatever's out there, so I figured I'd stir the pot, if possible, by posting it here. Do with it as you see fit. Enjoy.

Monday, March 6, 2017

Recently Read

Listen, Liberal
Or, What Ever Happened to the Party of the People?
by Thomas Frank

It took a decade and a half of political reporting, Barack Obama’s presidency, and a presidential run by Hillary Clinton to make Thomas Frank get serious.

This is not to suggest that Frank, famously the author of What’s The Matter With Kansas? and other works of political analysis, has never taken his subject seriously. But previous iterations of the author’s work have included healthy doses of incisive wit sprinkled within the cogent political analysis.

Not so much with Listen, Liberal. Frank’s writing remains top-notch, and his deconstruction of the dissolution of what used to be the Democratic Party is smart, convincing, and frankly—no pun intended—more than a bit depressing.

Perhaps Frank himself was getting that same vibe as he was crafting his prose. Even though his previous works covered a lot of the same ground, Frank’s earlier texts always included more than a few laugh out loud moments—either through the author’s exposition on the true absurdity of his subject, or simply via his own clever turn of phrase. But here, as Frank recites the laundry list of charges against today’s allegedly liberal political actors, nothing in the writing ever really comes across as funny.

Listen, Liberal
by Thomas Frank
That should be a minor defect when you’re reading a work of political analysis, but Frank has previously set his bar so high that anything less than a complete reading experience comes across as at least a minor failure.

That critique would be unfair as a total analysis of Frank’s tome, since in all other aspects Listen, Liberal succeeds at its task. Frank presents a powerful case—an indictment, really--that the modern so-called Democratic Party has succumbed to narcissism, rationalization, and just plain bullshit instead of sticking to its guns and truly doing the work of being the “party of the people.”

Frank argues that, through fetishizing “innovation” and that concept’s assorted empty promises, the Democrats of the last twenty or so years—particularly the ones carrying around the surname Clinton—performed a pantomime of the traditional party’s platform. Instead of fighting for working people—labor as a political subunit in particular, but in general everyone who falls below the top 20th percentile in earnings—modern Democrats sold out the poor and the middle class in order to cater to the desires of wealthy donors. In other words, they behaved just like their presumed adversaries in the Republican party, with the exception of preferring to kowtow to tech moguls versus the bigwigs of the extraction industries. Regardless of that minor difference, as Frank makes perfectly clear, the nation found itself deprived of two legitimately separate parties—a real monkey wrench for a political system supposedly built around a “two-party system”—which meant that that bottom 80% wound up deprived of pretty much everything that could have made their lives better. No wonder, given Frank’s analysis, that everyone with a keyboard must now type the improbable phrase “President Trump.”

If there is any real failing of Listen, Liberal, it is that Frank’s personal voice sometimes come through a little too stridently. The author clearly takes sides in this political exegesis; not to say that he’s on the wrong side, but Frank certainly veers away from the traditional standard of objectivity that used to be the gold standard of political journalism. If that blatantly biased viewpoint is a failing, it is certainly an understandable one, given the times and political milieu in which a reporter must work today. As with Hunter S. Thompson back in the early ‘70s—when the great Gonzo journalist famously declared that objectivity was a vice when reporting on that time’s largest political actors, that one needed to report subjectively in order to truly see what a monster Richard Nixon was—Frank finds himself faced with characters who also demand a subjective treatment in order to expose their true natures. It is a greater indictment of Bill and Hillary Clinton, and their various political satellites, that they have sunk to such Nixonian depths that make such a subjective viewpoint necessary, than it could ever be of a journalist as worthy as Tom Frank.

All things considered, Listen, Liberal overcomes its weaknesses to stand as a welcome addition to the author’s title list. Frank remains an essential guide to the political movements of our times, and this latest work earns its place within Frank’s impressive canon. What will raise Listen, Liberal up from a good to a great work of political journalism will be if its readers—hopefully including big names within the ostensible “people’s party”—take Frank’s lessons to heart and stop caring so much about obeying the right billionaires, and start caring much more about helping the millions who need good, fair, and equitable government.

Thursday, February 2, 2017

For The Record, Scale Check


As indicated in this space not so long ago, the chances of further progress being made on pushing the weight down were pretty good going into this new year, given the success I saw last fall--and here's the proof. This marks the first time my weight has been below 260 since the year 2001; that's why I like to call the above "the space odyssey." Ha.

All in all, this was a very satisfying new low weight to achieve, given its milestone nature. Besides, a number below 260 has a certain ring to it. Yes, you're still wildly overweight if you weigh 258.5 pounds at 5' 10", but it's not as outrageous as, say 295. Or 340, for that matter. Two fifty-eight and a half is the weight of an NFL linebacker, not a morbidly obese loser. Of course, the linebacker is six-three and completely ripped, which I am not (nor ever will be). But I'm feeling better about myself, and--more importantly--I believe I've found a formula that can sustain this sort of weight loss going forward, so long as nothing truly untoward happens.

And in case anyone is looking at this picture and wondering, "What the hell is going on with his leg? And his feet?" The answers: yes, my feet look weird and ugly. Partially it's just that's how they are; partially, it springs from the fact that I get a lot of dead skin on my feet. I don't have a solution for this problem; I soak my feet and rub them down when I can, but that just doesn't happen often enough. I've tried using a foot scrub, but the results weren't so great. Not sure what to do to make the feet (especially the toes) look better. It's just something to deal with.

The damage on my right shin, on the other hand, is less problematic--in fact, it's part of what's helping me lose weight. I get almost all of my exercise from bike riding (looking into changing that, but for now it's the bike or nothing). A typical thing that happens is, when I get on the bike--you mount a bike from the left, like the way you mount a horse--I have to kick the right pedal around to position it to get into starting position for my right foot. And that often means I wind up stopping the spinning pedal with my right shin. My pedals happen to be large, heavy duty metal plates--I've snapped pedals before--so my shin, as a consequence, frequently takes quite a whack, often strong enough to break the skin. That's why I often have broken skin on my right shin. My left shin, in contrast, doesn't take the same abuse, and thus looks normal. Bottom line: the broken skin on my right leg means I've been exercising, enough to reach this new low weight of which I'm mighty proud. Thanks for asking.

Thursday, January 19, 2017

The Real Reason Trump Won

Since we're rapidly approaching inauguration day, and we've spent the last two and a half months being buried under analysis about how and why Donald Trump pulled off his presidential victory, now might be a good time to mention the one thing that--as yet, in all the coverage I've read on the subject--has yet to be mentioned. That would be the real reason that Trump won. Namely, this:

Trump won because he was the one with the hot blonde chick standing next to him.

Friday, January 13, 2017

Reel Reviews

Straight Outta Compton -- Entertaining and accessible enough that this movie could probably make some rap fans--or at least N.W.A. fans--out of people who really aren’t all that into rap music. The only real complaint about this flick is that the story is too big for one movie; there’s no way the whole tale has been covered in full in this treatment. Nevertheless, this movie makes the case that these young guys deserve even more respect than they ultimately got, not just making cool music, but for being brave, sharp, and for seeing the big picture, too. Definitely worth a look, and a listen.

Reel Reviews

On Her Majesty’s Secret Service -- Not bad. Given the absence of Connery and the presence of George Lazenby, this film has a negative reputation for a piece of the Bond canon, but it’s actually an enjoyable bit of work. There’s good humor, plenty of well-done action sequences, hot girls, wonderful scenery, and nothing too ridiculous in terms of the plot. The tone is a bit uneven; Lazenby’s Bond gets a little too sensitive now and then, and 007 is really not meant to be that kind of animal. All in all, a better movie than its immediate predecessor, and one that proved the concept that someone else could step into the role--thus ensuring the future of filmdom’s most durable franchise.

Reel Reviews

The Big Short -- I don’t think this movie makes a good case that any of the investors depicted is the hero of this story. Perhaps that’s the point: there were no heroes, and couldn’t be, given the nature and scope of the crimes being committed. It’s entertaining, almost to a fault. A few of the scenes--particularly the expository interludes--are a little too clever; they actually undermine the seriousness of the message of the movie (if any). Will anyone learn anything from this tale? Of course not; the same swinishness is already happening again. But, at the very least, next time no one will be able to claim that no one saw it coming.

Reel Reviews

Concussion -- Solid, earnest, and convincing in its premise that the NFL knew and didn’t care. Will Smith really does give a tremendous performance; if you remember back to some of his earlier works, it can be hard to reconcile those performances with the portrayal presented here. And that’s a good thing. As for the moral, maybe some of the viewers will have reservations about watching football in the future; I suspect, however, that it won’t change anything, or at least not that much. You should still see this film anyway, just so you know what you’re supporting.