haiku, humor, photography

Weather’s Works

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Weather comes and goes.

Weather ~ Pic and a Word Challenge #122

Effects linger on several time scales.

rock_rain-splats_glow_800x582

In and On the Window
|Sculpted by weather,
|both old rock and young rain splats
|glow in sun today.

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birds, humor

Dirty Look Thru Dirty Window

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My seed feeder is hung just outside my living room window.  Please pretend that the white specks in my hasty snapshot are snowflakes, not crud on plexiglass that refuses to stay clean (but is springy enough to prevent serious injury when a bird tries to fly thru it).

hungry-chickadee_A-ME-De0_800x498

Hey, stupid! The feeder’s empty!

When I am slow to refill the feeder, birds rummage in the tray and sometimes find a seed among the debris that has accumulated.  Then they usually go elsewhere for a while.

Sometimes a chickadee (but never a bird of another species) has a different response.  The chickadee sits on the edge of the tray (looking into my house) and glares at me.  Corvids and parrots are not the only brainy birds.

(reblog), grammar, humor, photography

5 Days, 5 Abstract Photos – Day #5

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Day #5 of Olga’s challenge is effectively reblogged at the end of this post, after my own abstract photo.  (I tweaked this post’s title to avoid ambiguity.)  The challenge has been fun but intense.  Now I can turn to whatever has been piling up.  Hmm… Yikes!

penis-gourd_800x1067

Originally posted as
5 Days, 5 Photos Challenge: Abstract (Day 5) | Stuff and what if…:

icicles3

Rules:  No people.  No explanations.  Open invitation to anyone else who would like to participate.

flake2

Since this is the finale, an extra photo to say Merry Christmas and Peace to all.

View original

humor, philosophy, photography

Old Gold

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Tattered old gold still glows.

gold-point_800x600

But is it really silver?

silver_800x600

Or some nameless pearlish color?

Shifting light; flaky white balance; …

Ultimate reality is elusive (or maybe illusory).

Rashomon

All photos in my response to

Gold ~ Pic and a Word Challenge #111

were taken by daylight on sunny late winter mornings in 2017, using the same dried silver dollar plant in the same corner of the same room.  The old camera’s unpredictable white balance sometimes lucked into interesting images.  It also inspired a riff connecting an old Beatles song to a recycling incentive, but the old camera was replaced after showing more signs of senility.

Another response to the same challenge shows that silver dollar plants sometimes do look golden in natural light!

humor

Voice of Experience

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They both come in tubes.

They are used in the same room.

colgate-equate_800x313

They should not be
in the same drawer.

haiku, history, humor, politics

What Luther Did Before Nailing

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Did U ever wonder how an outraged monk could be like a frightened squid while being quite unlike the squid in a closely related way?  Neither did I.  The answer hit me before the question, while I pondered an intriguing juxtaposition in

Haiku Poems: Grip (For Samantha) | Poet Rummager

that inspired me to write a haiku.

Squids and Scribblers
|Squids squirt ink to flee.
|Writers also (sometimes), but
|often to confront.

• Image from © Brad Scot Lark | ShutterStock
• Image cropped from © Michele Paccione | ShutterStock

Long after Martin Luther’s time, fundamental institutions have yet again strayed from their missions and been corrupted.  Of course, people write (and mesh their words with images) very differently now.  Writers depend on the media (rather than a trip to the hardware store) to nail things to doors.  But if U listen carefully, U can still hear hammering.

2017-09-22

NON SEQUITUR © 2017 Wiley Ink, Inc..
Dist. By ANDREWS MCMEEL SYNDICATION.
Reprinted with permission. All rights reserved.

haiku, humor, math, philosophy, photography, science

They Are Beyond Space & Time

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Taught myself a crash course in digital photo manipulation to respond to

Numbers ~ Pic and a Word Challenge #106

by posting how Plato bounced back from an encounter with intellectual ancestors of Karl Popper.  Hope I did not flunk.

Plato woke up with a nasty hangover after a symposium that had gone badly for him.  Some new sophists who called themselves “natural philosophers” had come to Athens, and the kind of philosophizing they advocated was anything but natural to Plato.

The new sophists spoke about “observations” and “conjectures” and “predictions” rather than abstract reasoning about perfect ideal forms.  Plato could tolerate his student Aristotle’s interest in easy casual observations and simple inferences from them, but the new sophists were different.  They wanted to measure minute details of how the shadows on the walls of Plato’s metaphorical cave flickered.  They would consider anything imaginable as a candidate for “explaining” their observations, even things so fanciful that Homer would never have dared to sing of Odysseus encountering them on his way back to Ithaca.

Instead of trying to establish a conjecture by reasoning to it from first principles, the new sophists wanted to reason from it to a prediction about what they would observe.  Conjectures that led to many diverse predictions matching what was actually observed were to be accepted as true, but only until somebody came up with “better” conjectures that yielded more accurate predictions by more elegant reasoning.  As one of the brasher “natural philosophers” said,

All knowledge is provisional,
never more than the best we have at the moment.

Flummoxed by such craziness, Plato had been hitting the wine harder than usual.  He had passed out just as another “natural philosopher” began replying to the brash one:

Well, that is a little over the top.  For example, …

All that was last night, when stars had carpeted an inky black sky.  Now the sky was light blue, the sun was shining, and Plato’s head was aching.  He winced when he remembered a new sophist’s remark that each star might be something much like the sun but almost inconceivably farther away.  That example of a loony conjecture had prompted a nightmare with Athens (and its circling sun) lost in a humongous whirling vortex of innumerable stars (rather than stationary near the center of the universe, as Athens so obviously was).

The cash bar at the symposium had been pricey, and Plato wondered if he still had enough money to buy some willow bark to ease his headache.  He put his coins on the nearest flat surface and counted them.  Five should be plenty.  Then he noticed that three coins had the side with the face of a leader facing upwards, while two coins had the side with the leader’s mansion facing upwards.  Suddenly, Plato felt much better.  He even felt ready for another encounter with that brash sophist.

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Plato’s Revenge
|Three plus two was five
|before any mind could know.
|Where do numbers live?