The Old Prof

Well, I haven't actually read the Lord Of Rings trilogy but I have seen it. I've even seen the extended cuts of all three films. They were great! I'm sure most of you know what I'm talking about.

The thing is this, I'm pretty sure the books end the same as the movies. The ring gets tossed into the fires of mount doom and Frodo goes off into the eternal world with the elves on a boat. I'm open to any insights anyone who has read the books might have, but I understand from others I know that that is the gist of it. I only mention this because the other day I saw frodo walking down market street and the dude looked thrashed. He had on his cloak and everything. He looks like he's run all out of that special elven bread and shampoo. I almost asked to see the ring but then I remembered how he reacted when Sam offered to carry it. It wasn't pretty and the way the guy looked he obviously hasn't ditched the ring yet.

Well, I just don't trust Tolkien anymore. He tells us that the ring must be destroyed or it will lead to the destruction of Earth and then I see Frodo still wandering around with it. This world isn't perfect but it's a hell of a lot safer than the movies showed. If this is what he meant by destroying the world than i'd just have to say he was overreacting just a bit. If this isn't what he meant then he sure was misleading about the timeframe of said destruction. The only other explaination is that the ring doesn't need to be destroyed and the world isn't in danger and Frodo is just hanging out playing D&D and shooting horse. No matter how you slice it, Tolkien is a liar.

Posted by Old Prof at 01:41 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Well, I haven't actually read the Lord Of Rings trilogy but I have seen it. I've even seen the extended cuts of all three films. They were great! I'm sure most of you know what I'm talking about.

The thing is this, I'm pretty sure the books end the same as the movies. The ring gets tossed into the fires of mount doom and Frodo goes off into the eternal world with the elves on a boat. I'm open to any insights anyone who has read the books might have, but I understand from others I know that that is the gist of it. I only mention this because the other day I saw frodo walking down market street and the dude looked thrashed. He had on his cloak and everything. He looks like he's run all out of that special elven bread and shampoo. I almost asked to see the ring but then I remembered how he reacted when Sam offered to carry it. It wasn't pretty and the way the guy looked he obviously hasn't ditched the ring yet.

Well, I just don't trust Tolkien anymore. He tells us that the ring must be destroyed or it will lead to the destruction of Earth and then I see Frodo still wandering around with it. This world isn't perfect but it's a hell of a lot safer than the movies showed. If this is what he meant by destroying the world than i'd just have to say he was overreacting just a bit. If this isn't what he meant then he sure was misleading about the timeframe of said destruction. The only other explaination is that the ring doesn't need to be destroyed and the world isn't in danger and Frodo is just hanging out playing D&D and shooting horse. No matter how you slice it, Tolkien is a liar.

Posted by Old Prof at 01:41 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

There was a time several years ago when my sons were in scouting and my friend was scoutmaster. I used to go on those outings. They were so much fun that we, adult “shadow leaders”, used to say that scouting would be absolutely wonderful if it weren’t for the damn scouts. Well, at least I used to say that. The “Former Scout Leader”, lets call him Steve, told his wife a while ago that the times in his life when he used to enjoy himself most were the times when he was camping and doing those activities. He decided that though he retired from active scouting this year he wanted to continue with the fun. Those were the fun times for me too; well, that or a book. He has now planned a summer that looks pretty good to me. Of course two other of his planned outings in which I nearly died looked pretty good going in. I particularly remember being upside down in a Kayak about a mile off the pier in Ventura, in a small craft warning, and having a hard time getting out of the Kayak. And the time we ran out of water, forty miles from any source, above Lions Canyon in Utah also springs to mind, so to speak. (And I must admit those times have left me with marvelous stories that my friends and family just can’t get enough of) In the midst of those times we used to look at each other and say “this is going to be a really good story if we survive!” Now, among other things, three of us will be dropped off alone and left to kayak and snorkel on one of the Channel Islands. My son on hearing of it said it reminded him of the supposed Eskimo custom of sending the uselessly old out onto the ice floes to decently die. Steve’s wife, also a friend, we’ll call her Sue, says she just wishes that someone with a lick of sense could be there too. I don’t know why she would wish such adventures on someone like that. And what are the chances that he would feel comfortable with us. Really it all looks pretty tame to me, but, as an old timer, I am planning on pretending it’s another adventure, and then paddling around in warm beautiful water, looking at, and being looked at by, the fish, eating really well (both the other guys cook like gourmets and I eat like a gourmand), while retelling those old stories under the stars. (And waiting for the unexpected consequence)You may wait too. Watch this space.

Posted by at 05:57 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

One of my students came in a little late and excused herself with, “sorry I’m late but I got pulled over for speeding. Thank God I’m cute.” I told one of our instructors about that the other day and said I was surprised that a girl would be that aware and openly aware of being “cute”. She laughed at me and told me that “my gosh they are totally aware of being cute”, and not just of being cute but of how cute they are in every way. I felt a bit naïve (Obviously because I am). Then this Thursday, a girl dressed in a designer sweat suit got up as class let out and as she turned around to leave I noticed that emblazoned across her bottom, in letters a half foot high and in bright yellow embroidery was the word CUTE. She was not only aware but was anxious that everyone else was aware of the cuteness of the feature being featured. I miss the 1950’s.

Posted by at 08:52 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

(I asked my wife for a good title. This is hers.) I’ve been meaning to walk up the Chumash trail ever since it rained for three straight weeks in this semi desert we live in. (Following the trail for about three miles and an 1100 foot rise you end up on a mountain ridge between the San Fernando valley and Simi Valley) I thought it might be kind of pretty with green stuff on it this time. Sure enough it was. The grass and weeds (whoops. I’ve been admonished by one of the guys who maintain the trail that there is no such thing as a weed on the entire mountain) (I should have admonished him. The thing is a foothill to anyone who has seen an actual mountain. Still we take what we can get) ok, the grass and weeds were mid calf and of various shades of green. The gray-green “stuff” was particularly striking against the other shades. Unfortunately there weren’t many flowers. Apparently they need some sort of sunshine. That has been strangely lacking in our normally sunburned region. What flowers there were, were “cherce” though. The weathermen have been forecasting more rain but I figured “how likely is that”? We are already at or nearly over the all time high for the area, since records have been kept and “the memory of man runneth not to the contrary”. Besides the raincoat is a pain to carry around and too hot to wear unless it really is raining. So I took off this morning, in my khaki colored cotton shirt and trousers. All went well till 120 pictures and two and a half hours later I started down and so did the rain. You would be surprised to see how little protection even a long-sleeved cotton shirt offers in the rain. I repeated my Mantra, given me by my mother in an earlier age. “You are not made of brown sugar and you will not melt in the rain”. The Mountain has three types of terrain. One is just slick rock outcroppings that crop out anywhere and everywhere. Twice in the rain, walking with my head down and water dripping off the bill of my cap (and every appendage) I mistakenly turned down a rock- filled gully thinking it was the trail. Another type of trail is that from which the idea of ball bearings evolved. The rocks are about golf ball size and stepping on two at a time will put you on your back so quick that for as many as three seconds you will have no idea what has happened. Listen to me. No idea! The third type is deceptively benign in dry weather. It is just a sort of dusty, dirty, potential clay. It’s nicer to walk on. It’s nicer when its dry, as it is 366 days of a normal year. This year I noticed it was wet and balling up under my feet as much as an inch and a half. The next thing I noticed was I seemed to be parallel to the ground and about a half foot above it for a lightening-like split second. As I lay there in the mud with the rain falling in my face the word “welldamn!?” welled up unbidden from my semi conscious. I struggled to my feet and tried to wipe the mud from my camera with my hands. I didn’t have much luck till I washed my hands in a little stream that was providentially coming from nowhere. I never used the audio recording feature of the camera anyway. And perhaps mud is not a total impediment to the passage of sound. I mean, I could still hear. I quite enjoyed the walk. I say, “if you are not wet to the skin, covered in mud and wet to the knees both ways what’s the use of living”. You might as well work in an office somewhere.

Posted by at 08:23 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

As the clock alarm went off this morning I awoke with a start with the distinct impression that my bed had docked. I actually thought the bed had made a little swerve and nudged into the shore. I am not aware that I have ever overtly thought of sleep in that metaphoric way. We dont understand ouselves. There is a whole life going on in the remote recesses of our heads that we are unaware of. I am more charmed by hints of that unconcious life than by the one I am consciously living.

Posted by at 05:19 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Just saw The Passion of the Christ. It could have been better if they had based it on the Bible. I thought it was bad beyond most levels of bad. All it lacked was for some actress to scream a lot, run forward while looking back, fall down, roll onto her back and crawl away on her elbows. I don’t know how they cast the actor who played Christ. I bet it was something like. “Need man to bleed, crawl, cringe, roll and, drool.” They probably cast Mary by asking for someone who could come in once for a face cast of a woman portraying, well, who knows what it was, perhaps morbidity. But she looked that way, morbid or something unpleasant, all the time. It never changed. Hire a body double, how hard could that be with the black gown, put the facial cast on her and save hundreds of thousands of dollars. They may have done it for all I could tell. The Roman soldiers were pretty good though. I mean it. They did a good job. I found them totally believable. The concept of Satan seemed to be drawn from Hyeronimous Bosh. The Pure thing is hard to find but they found it here. Some people would think there was too much scourging. After all about half the movie is Christ being beaten. I say no. I would like to see more not less. I want to see the Director, the actress who played Mary and the Music Director all scourged. A lot. I don’t think you could have gotten away with some of those scenes in a high school play. I didn’t like it much.

Posted by at 12:06 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

(And then the rest follows) Well, that’s it. I’m not helping anyone move again. Two hundred pound sofas can stay where they are and refrigerators are now officially on their own. I helped a friend move last Monday and I turn 71 this Monday. In between I have mourned my knees every time I stood up. If I am going to walk the southern end of Offas Dyke this summer I can see that heavy lifting is done. So “that’s it”. An era ends. Don’t ask. Steve, you're on your own. (unless of course its raining) (Little inside joke there)

Posted by at 10:02 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

So, Many of you have seen the post from March 7 and know that I proposed to my girlfriend Veeda but many have asked for details and chided me for doing it over the internet. First, I want to thank all of you who have been so kind and supportive and well wishing to myself and Veeda, individually and collectively. Second, I would like to state clearly that I did not propose over the internet. I used my website and the posting you all saw as part of my scheme but I did the old fashioned thing and proposed in person. So, here's the story for you:

Veeda and I have been talking about marriage for a little while and had already gone a ways in making our plans for a June wedding without any formal asking or much more than a series of cooperative mutual assumptions. Without going into too many intimate details (please don't misunderstand this phrase, I'm merely referring to life situations with future plans and family issues) there was a bit of zeitgeist leading into all of this. Things were kind of catapulted forward by the surrounding circumstances and the serendipity of family events both happy and foreboding which led me to be left at a kitchen table in Veeda's aunt's house on super bowl Sunday with her father at the other end asking me what my intentions were with his daughter. I was a bit embarrassed and surprised but I was reasonably comfortable with the whole thing. I was actually more nervous about it after the fact. The next day I became slightly terrified of her father; I suppose because I was more keenly aware of the fact that he would be watching me closely and would visit my body with terrible punishment if I made his daughter cry tears (unless they were caused by joy, of course). Or maybe it was just the fact that I could no longer go on casually and biding my time untill I screwed something up irrevocably. I was comitted now and it was awesome and terrifying at the same time. This event was significant for all of the usual reasons, but also because her father and mother had come from the Phillipines (where they live currently) only a few days previous to get her mother more adequate medical attention to a grave condition. Veeda is not, by the way, filipino or from the Phillipines. Her Dad is retired from the Army and works for the embassy. So, events just kind of pushed the future upon us a little more quickly.

So, a couple weeks ago Veeda and I made a trip down to Las Vegas to visit my mother over the long weekend. This trip was really great and really bad and really really great and all of that helped us a lot. Anyway, on Monday morning (the day we were leaving to return to Northern California) we went to the jewelry store owned by my former Boy Scout Leader (definitely not a pedophile, he's awesome). The store was closed that day for inventory and because it was President's Day but we had a special invitation to come and look at rings. We had the whole place to ourselves. I invited my mother along so we could take her to get some errands done on the way. I was planning on just getting some idea of what she liked and then trying to find something like that another time on my own. My old scout leader and his wife brought out the rings and explained all the details etc. Veeda tried on scads of rings (I've never actually used the word "scads" before but I've read a few times recently and it seemed to fit although it seems more like something a girl would write). Some of them were very nice and some were very funny and some were very expensive and rediculous. When she put on the ring which you saw in the previous post, time slowed down and the angels sang. I'm kind of serious about that. It left an impression on me. It made an impression on my mother and Veeda as well. I felt like Veeda's hand ought to be wearing that ring and that I should do whatever I needed to to make sure it got there. I arranged for the payment of the ring and tried my best to keep it out of conversation thereafter so that there would be some possibility of a surprise when I gave Veeda the ring she knew she was getting.

The ring took a full week after completion and payment to make it to San Francisco. Apparently, when you send something like that with insurance everyone who touches the box has to sign something and the thing is watched very carefully. That's a good thing but I was looking for that thing everyday and getting quite anxious to move into that "officially engaged" state of existence. The ring arrived Monday the 7th at my office. I was worthless the rest of the day. I just couldn't stop thinking about the ring. It was amazing to look at. All sparkles the thing. I hadn't really planned out how I was going to do this exchange and proposal and I was affraid it would be rather anti-climactic since we already had a wedding date set (June 11th, 2005 in the LDS Temple in Oakland). I had only decided that I would drive to San Jose to surprise her with it as soon as I got it. It was tempting to hold on to it cause she was coming up to San Francisco the next evening to spend time with me, and that would have given me time to plan, but I thought it would be better to make the trip.

So, I had asked Veeda to a Prom party we had thrown a week ago by way of my weblog and she is an avid reader of it so I thought I would post a proposal so it could be sort of public and let everyone else know what we were doing. I also knew that she would not be expecting me to come down that night. I hoped she would not have read the blog while I was in the middle of my hour drive to get there. I stopped to buy her some lavender flowers (her favorite color is purple) and parked accross the street from her complex. While still accross the street I sent her a text message telling her to check my blog right away. I got a little worried when i get to her gated complex cause the gate was closed but I was able to stretch my 6'3" frame enough to push the handle on the other side and open the gate. I got the gate open and walked to her 3rd story apartment.

Veeda had been eating dinner with her cousin and headed to her room to change out of her work clothes when she heard the phone ring. She had the phone on the charger and would not have heard it if she had not been in her room at that brief moment. She logged on to the interweb and typed in my blog address. Veeda said she thought, "hmmm, Brendan posted some pictures. I hope none of them are too bad." Then she scrolled down to the bottom of the post and saw the proposal. The picture of the ring hadn't even loaded yet. About that time her heart began to beat and she was kind of stunned. Simultaneous with her reading the last line of the post I was standing on her doorstep knocking on the door. Veeda hadn't had any time to collect herself and was in a mild state of shock when she went to get the door and thought it was her roomate home from the gym. Then she saw me standing there and was just speachless and a little nervously frantic. She had just put on her pajama pants and insisted that she put on pants. She wanted to go out onto the balcony for some privacy. We walked out and still nervous and excited I knelt down and asked her if she would marry me. I'm sorry to say I used no flowery or new wave words to propose but I'm also kind of glad I didn't try to overdo it. I did try to put the ring on the wrong had at first by accident, though. She didn't actually say anything she just gasped and smiled and exclaimed and hugged me and I figured I was in the clear. When asked later what her official answer was she said that it was indeed a "yes" and she didn't realize she hadn't actually answered me. I saved my flowery romantic sincere poetic words for after the fact but I won't repeat them here (I promise they weren't dirty or vulgar, just sweet). So, at long last I am going to marry an amazing and beautiful girl who I have no business being with. That's exactly what I've always wanted.

Posted by Old Prof at 01:35 AM | Permalink | Comments (5)

So, Many of you have seen the post from March 7 and know that I proposed to my girlfriend Veeda but many have asked for details and chided me for doing it over the internet. First, I want to thank all of you who have been so kind and supportive and well wishing to myself and Veeda, individually and collectively. Second, I would like to state clearly that I did not propose over the internet. I used my website and the posting you all saw as part of my scheme but I did the old fashioned thing and proposed in person. So, here's the story for you:

Veeda and I have been talking about marriage for a little while and had already gone a ways in making our plans for a June wedding without any formal asking or much more than a series of cooperative mutual assumptions. Without going into too many intimate details (please don't misunderstand this phrase, I'm merely referring to life situations with future plans and family issues) there was a bit of zeitgeist leading into all of this. Things were kind of catapulted forward by the surrounding circumstances and the serendipity of family events both happy and foreboding which led me to be left at a kitchen table in Veeda's aunt's house on super bowl Sunday with her father at the other end asking me what my intentions were with his daughter. I was a bit embarrassed and surprised but I was reasonably comfortable with the whole thing. I was actually more nervous about it after the fact. The next day I became slightly terrified of her father; I suppose because I was more keenly aware of the fact that he would be watching me closely and would visit my body with terrible punishment if I made his daughter cry tears (unless they were caused by joy, of course). Or maybe it was just the fact that I could no longer go on casually and biding my time untill I screwed something up irrevocably. I was comitted now and it was awesome and terrifying at the same time. This event was significant for all of the usual reasons, but also because her father and mother had come from the Phillipines (where they live currently) only a few days previous to get her mother more adequate medical attention to a grave condition. Veeda is not, by the way, filipino or from the Phillipines. Her Dad is retired from the Army and works for the embassy. So, events just kind of pushed the future upon us a little more quickly.

So, a couple weeks ago Veeda and I made a trip down to Las Vegas to visit my mother over the long weekend. This trip was really great and really bad and really really great and all of that helped us a lot. Anyway, on Monday morning (the day we were leaving to return to Northern California) we went to the jewelry store owned by my former Boy Scout Leader (definitely not a pedophile, he's awesome). The store was closed that day for inventory and because it was President's Day but we had a special invitation to come and look at rings. We had the whole place to ourselves. I invited my mother along so we could take her to get some errands done on the way. I was planning on just getting some idea of what she liked and then trying to find something like that another time on my own. My old scout leader and his wife brought out the rings and explained all the details etc. Veeda tried on scads of rings (I've never actually used the word "scads" before but I've read a few times recently and it seemed to fit although it seems more like something a girl would write). Some of them were very nice and some were very funny and some were very expensive and rediculous. When she put on the ring which you saw in the previous post, time slowed down and the angels sang. I'm kind of serious about that. It left an impression on me. It made an impression on my mother and Veeda as well. I felt like Veeda's hand ought to be wearing that ring and that I should do whatever I needed to to make sure it got there. I arranged for the payment of the ring and tried my best to keep it out of conversation thereafter so that there would be some possibility of a surprise when I gave Veeda the ring she knew she was getting.

The ring took a full week after completion and payment to make it to San Francisco. Apparently, when you send something like that with insurance everyone who touches the box has to sign something and the thing is watched very carefully. That's a good thing but I was looking for that thing everyday and getting quite anxious to move into that "officially engaged" state of existence. The ring arrived Monday the 7th at my office. I was worthless the rest of the day. I just couldn't stop thinking about the ring. It was amazing to look at. All sparkles the thing. I hadn't really planned out how I was going to do this exchange and proposal and I was affraid it would be rather anti-climactic since we already had a wedding date set (June 11th, 2005 in the LDS Temple in Oakland). I had only decided that I would drive to San Jose to surprise her with it as soon as I got it. It was tempting to hold on to it cause she was coming up to San Francisco the next evening to spend time with me, and that would have given me time to plan, but I thought it would be better to make the trip.

So, I had asked Veeda to a Prom party we had thrown a week ago by way of my weblog and she is an avid reader of it so I thought I would post a proposal so it could be sort of public and let everyone else know what we were doing. I also knew that she would not be expecting me to come down that night. I hoped she would not have read the blog while I was in the middle of my hour drive to get there. I stopped to buy her some lavender flowers (her favorite color is purple) and parked accross the street from her complex. While still accross the street I sent her a text message telling her to check my blog right away. I got a little worried when i get to her gated complex cause the gate was closed but I was able to stretch my 6'3" frame enough to push the handle on the other side and open the gate. I got the gate open and walked to her 3rd story apartment.

Veeda had been eating dinner with her cousin and headed to her room to change out of her work clothes when she heard the phone ring. She had the phone on the charger and would not have heard it if she had not been in her room at that brief moment. She logged on to the interweb and typed in my blog address. Veeda said she thought, "hmmm, Brendan posted some pictures. I hope none of them are too bad." Then she scrolled down to the bottom of the post and saw the proposal. The picture of the ring hadn't even loaded yet. About that time her heart began to beat and she was kind of stunned. Simultaneous with her reading the last line of the post I was standing on her doorstep knocking on the door. Veeda hadn't had any time to collect herself and was in a mild state of shock when she went to get the door and thought it was her roomate home from the gym. Then she saw me standing there and was just speachless and a little nervously frantic. She had just put on her pajama pants and insisted that she put on pants. She wanted to go out onto the balcony for some privacy. We walked out and still nervous and excited I knelt down and asked her if she would marry me. I'm sorry to say I used no flowery or new wave words to propose but I'm also kind of glad I didn't try to overdo it. I did try to put the ring on the wrong had at first by accident, though. She didn't actually say anything she just gasped and smiled and exclaimed and hugged me and I figured I was in the clear. When asked later what her official answer was she said that it was indeed a "yes" and she didn't realize she hadn't actually answered me. I saved my flowery romantic sincere poetic words for after the fact but I won't repeat them here (I promise they weren't dirty or vulgar, just sweet). So, at long last I am going to marry an amazing and beautiful girl who I have no business being with. That's exactly what I've always wanted.

Posted by Old Prof at 01:35 AM | Permalink | Comments (5)

By the way, did anybody else notice that I sent out about 100 e-mails announcing my big announcement entitled: "brendab bybee's big news!"?

My damb name is brendan not brendab. I'm retarded.

Posted by Old Prof at 01:46 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

By the way, did anybody else notice that I sent out about 100 e-mails announcing my big announcement entitled: "brendab bybee's big news!"?

My damb name is brendan not brendab. I'm retarded.

Posted by Old Prof at 01:46 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Dining at Millies All American Restaurant She: " Its ok if you breathe between bites." He, looking up stunned. "Huh"? she: " People who work here probably wonder why you didn't come in earlier if you're that hungry."

Posted by at 06:10 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Veeda Ware,

Will you marry me?

Posted by Old Prof at 07:36 PM | Permalink | Comments (16)

Veeda Ware,

Will you marry me?

Posted by Old Prof at 07:36 PM | Permalink | Comments (16)

Superstition is the attempt to explain the inexplicable and to cause the arbitrary or unlikely. It is the assigning of unscientific, odd, unproven and un-provable (Non) causal bases to desired results. It is the assuming of cause and effect when no cause is evident but the event is important to us and we deeply desire to replicate the result by redoing the apparent or possible, no matter how irrational, cause. This leads to ritual. It is probably what led the American Indians to plant beans with corn. Incredibly careful observation must have seen that corn did better when beans were planted about its base (corn takes nitrogen out of the soil and beans puts it back in) What they were doing worked because in its way it was scientific. Or perhaps the Indians just got lucky. Nevertheless they did what they did because it always positively influenced the outcome. Superstitious rituals probably have similar beginnings.. Though unlike growing Corn superstition doesn’t seem to work often. But in all gambling, intermittent reward is very powerful and leads to countless repetitions of the action if just once in a while pulling the lever results in the cascade of coins. In sports where who knows why the ball bounces that way and the maxim, “That’s the way the ball bounces” indicates the random “luck of the draw” occurrence, recourse is often had to what has the appearance of the rituals of religion. Superstition demands “Miracle On Demand” inducing it by ritualized action and or petition for “some” intervention beyond the explicable mundane. It is a belief that there can be a setting aside of natural law for the personal benefit of some individual or individuals. (And that is precisely what Jefferson thought Biblical miracles were or purported to be) Superstition is sometimes just conditioning. It can be learned behavior developed because you were doing something and a result occurred and then you were doing the same thing and the event occurred again. You learn to associate the result with the event. It can be positive or negative. Wear those socks, don’t wear those socks. Turn this way and get fed. Turn that way and get whacked. Let me put this another way. “Classical conditioning forms an association between two stimuli. (The bell and the steak? Ring the bell, show the steak: dog salivates. ring the bell , no steak and dog salivates?) Operant conditioning forms an association between a behavior and a consequence. (It is also called response-stimulus or RS conditioning because it forms an association between the animal's response [behavior] {The bird pecks at the proper spot?} and the stimulus that follows [consequence] {The bird is given grain?})” “There are four possible consequences to any behavior. They are: Something Good can start or be presented; Something Good can end or be taken away; Something Bad can start or be presented; Something Bad can end or be taken away. “Consequences have to be immediate, or clearly linked to the behavior. With verbal humans, we can explain the connection between the consequence and the behavior, even if they are separated in time. For example, you might tell a friend that you'll buy dinner for them since they helped you move, or a parent might explain that the child can't go to summer camp because of her bad grades. With very young children, humans who don't have verbal skills, and animals, [Sports Fans] you can't explain the connection between the consequence and the behavior. For the animal, [Sports Fan] the consequence has to be immediate. The way to work around this is to use a bridge”…. (Quoted from An Animal Trainer's Introduction To Operant and Classical Conditioning by Stacy Braslau-Schenk) And that is at least one way in which superstition begins and endures. Superstition is intensely personal. I alter events when I wear my old sneakers and do thus and so. Many billions are doing something else but my actions cause an effect. It would happen again If I wore X and then did Y again. The superstitious seem to be Egoists. For them it is totally personal. It’s only me. I am influencing the universe. Superstition breaks down the moment you allow yourself to realize you are part of something larger, and that the world does not revolve around you. If other thousands, millions, want, or are trying to affect a different effect then why should your ritual be the most powerful? The only counter argument to this thesis seems to be the wholesale involvement of many people all replicating the desired action for the wished for result. Then we might advance an argument for numbers, for a democracy of superstition. Superstition (and by now I wish there was a good synonym) is religion for the irreligious; the opiate of the gambler. The belief that (often seemingly irrational) actions can cause wanted change. It is the sort of thing that leads a believer to pray. Unless there is process in god or movement in fate, and a belief that destiny can be altered why pray and why hope and why indulge in religious or superstitious ritual. If what will be will be, no petition to the unseen, unknown and unknowable coiling powers of the universe is of any use and the universe is uncaring, cold and dangerous. It is far better, more comfortable to believe in, if not a caring, at least an amenable universe. A superstitious Calvinist seems to be a contradiction in terms. But perhaps for them this is an escape from that narrow stricture and a springtime of hope because no team is predestined for continuous failure. And Superstition is Hope. The hope that Things can change and one can influence them. It explains the inexplicable and changes the preordained. Superstition is hope that does not rise to faith. Blind hope. It is Hope at the zenith, or perhaps faith in rags and tatters with worn out sneakers, wearing a rally cap and with hope in its heart.

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