How Does Thunder Work?

I was asked recently to write between 250 and 400 words on the topic of what makes thunder work. this had to be presented as if you were talking to an intelligent 7th grader. I need to make room on my lap top for other things and I don't want to simply delete it so I am posting it here for your entertainment and criticism. Enjoy!

The sky is dark with clouds and the wind is kicking up leaves and dirt in the street. The street lamps are giving off a hollow yellow light in the distance. As you stand on the porch you can feel the storm coming. Suddenly the world is frozen in a moment of blue white light and shadow. And again everything is darkness, then…BOOM! The sound bounces off your chest and rocks you back a step. The windows behind you rattle in their frames and you turn to flee the onslaught. Ahem…

It’s just thunder right? We all know there is nothing to be afraid of, but do we really know what creates that loud boom following a lightening strike? Some people will tell you things like: “It’s the Angels bowling.” Or, “That’s Thor in his work shop…making hail.” But they would be completely and utterly, well…wrong. Science, a thing we came up with along our way to being the smartest animals on the planet, tells us that there is a logical explanation to this. Well, sort of.

Lightening, being electricity, and the dangerous part of the “Thunder and Lightening” duo is created by atmospheric friction. Thinking Exercise:

Think of the carpet as wind and your socks as… wind, one warm the other cooler. Well, they rub together and the result is a burst of electricity. Rub your socks on the carpet, touch your sister, run away. Hear that tiny crack before she screamed? That, is thunder.

Thunder, the less dangerous part of T&L results from the lightening moving and superheating the air so quickly that it breaks the sound barrier. The BOOM you hear is literally the air coming back together like a clap. But why the boom? Technically all of this happens at the same time, in a split second. However, light, which is the Lightening part of the equation; travels faster than sound. The lightening appears from the sky so quickly it literally rips a hole in the sky. Seconds later we hear the Boom announcing its passing.

Some will tell you that if you count the seconds between the flash of light and the Crack of Boom, you can tell how many miles away the storm is. I can’t vouch for that, my math is too bad for speculation. But it makes more sense than the “Thor Theory”. I love science.

The Angry Hat or The Remarkable Story of a Man Named Tongue Tied

This is a true story. As such, I have taken every pain here to not be sued. Names have been changed for various reasons; most of them to protect those who know better.

I have a friend, we'll call him...Carlton. Now Carlton has a lady friend, (lady friend being different from girlfriend,) we'll call her...Mary. Carlton and Mary, having known one another in the past, and having recently reunited, fell easily and deeply into one another. Well...as deeply as two people who just re-met could be expected to fall into one another. Deep, but let's call it, "able to tread water and get back to shore pretty easily," deep; not, "fuck we are going to die out here and it's your fucking fault," deep.

Anyway...

Together, as they were, they decided to go to a party,... um, together. This party, being a gathering of her friends, not his, I believe was something important to Mary. As such Carlton took it seriously and, being the man he is, dressed according to his mood. On this evening his mood included a camouflage cap.

I must aside, again...

This is not a bull-shit, red neck trucker, mesh in the back, gas station cap. this is a nice, military looking cap, clean, no sweat rings.

Mary..., did not approve of the cap, not one bit. Mary threw a bit of a tantrum over the hat. Her tantrum included, and these are the juicy bits:

1. Snatching the hat from Carlton's head
2. Running about the house with it, playing a sort of semi-serious keep away game.
3. and...wait on it...hiding the cap and preventing Carlton from wearing it.

I have to give her some credit for winning the keep away game. Determined, she was and as such she won the day. But the display in the process was... unbecoming. I find no reason to embarrass the woman further. This should be enough punishment, spreading her silly antics all over my blog space. And, normally it would be, enough I mean, to stop the story here. But if I were going to do that I wouldn't have changed the names of the innocent, I wouldn't be justified in using two titles, and I wouldn't be paying homage to me Hombre!

The night still young, love blooming fresh in their hearts, the young couple decided to carry on with the evening. It was only, after all, a disagreement over wardrobe. A woman, telling a man what he cannot wear to an engagement in her company. Another blog post, that arguement. Women thinking they can dictate a mans sense of outer self. You, women are allowed free reign to present yourself to the world as you please, and we are expected to accept it, and pretend to like it even if we secretly believe you dress like a fhrump. Yes I said FHRUMP!

I can picture the drive to the party:
Soothing John Mayer tunes on the stereo as she negotiates them through the streets, her compass more finely tuned to their destination after years of practice navigating it. She looks over towards him; he sits comfortable in the seat next to her.

"You aren't angry are you?" She asks him.
"Nope. The hat though, may be pissed."He says.
"How can...?" She can see him thinking, his mind going over the situation as she speaks, tuned to every nuance, inflection change, slip of the tongue. "Okay," she says, "fine, I'm sorry. I really am."
'Me too." he says.

A bit of insider information here:
Carlton, is a different sort of guy. I like to say I too am a different sort, which is why, I believe, he and I get along so well. We are not your average sort. Now, with that said, he is more a Jedi and I am more of a Sith. He, is Alan Shore and I am DENNY CRANE. Denny Crane. So he most likely wouldn't have thought much of the small battle. He would have looked forward to a fun and interesting evening. The part I like most is that I am without a doubt, her guard was completely down. Can any one say, "Muuuuwaaaahhhhhhaahahahaha!"?

Imagine, if you are able, a normal looking man. Still technically a young adult, but officially a grown ass man; all antics aside. He is well dressed and clean cut, almost a model, eligible american male. His companion for the evening is equally all the other stuff, but a woman instead. Together, and I have to tell you I've witnessed this, they are a very attractive couple. I would be pleased to know, when I opened the door at my party, that they showed up. Continue to imagine with me, if you will, this attractive couple standing on your door step. If you like, as you imagine this, you can detail your background; maybe a couple of jack-o-lanterns on the porch, possibly a bat hanging from the eaves. As you reach out to greet this beloved couple he says:

"Heldo! Bie Nambe ishh tongue died."

What? You may think, "WHAT?"

"Tongue Tied." he says with a snicker as be breezes past you into the house.

Mary stood in the entry way with her friend, both of them looking off into the kitchen.

"What did he say?" Friend queries.

"I don't know what's going on..." Mary says.

The sounds of laughter from the kitchen draws the two into the fray. Tongue Tied is just flipping the top off a beer, never breaking character he says:

"'ere scee iz. By lobely date."

Some of you are going to remember Fat Albert and the Junkyard Gang. If, for some reason, you don't know who I'm talking about...sigh, YouTube it. In said show there is a character named Mush Mouth. You can't miss him, he's the one with the mumble, rocks his Beanie Cap like I do. Take that guy, but fill his mouth with a big ass tongue and a natural lisp. My friend...My Alan Shore... kept this character going all night long.

I, of course must aside:

Carlton is not an actor. He does not, as a career, hobby or general pursuit practice the theater arts. He is a financial analyst or something.

For the entire night, as smooth as the tide coming in, Carlton became the man Tongue Tied. He mumbled through conversations and lisped over drinking games. He laughed as Tongue Tied, he drank, danced, partied, sang his heart out as a man named Tongue Tied.

A few of Mary's friends had met Carlton, as himself. They at first, as respectable Texas ladies will, they all expressed concern for Carlton.

"Is he okay?" They asked Mary, hands wringing with anticipation of some disgusting malady worthy of report. At the break room counter, over a box of donuts they could break, the B.F.F. code of confidentiality.

"I have a friend," they'll say with a sneer, "whose boyfriend has speech impediments."

When they instead find that Carlton is physically, and mentally in one healthy piece, they rally an anti- Tongue Tied campaign.

Gentlemen, we have all, at one time or another in our lives, been the cause of, or a target of, a female "anti-anything" campaign. You will be plied with promises of fellatiatic feats and acrobatic anal. Or, threatened; like a dog regulated to the "dog house" if you do not obey the new mandate:

DO NOT, under any circumstance, ENTERTAIN, or ACKNOWLEDGE, Mr. Tongue Tied.

Ha, ha, yes women of the world, know one thing and remember it well. When a male of our species has committed himself to an act, no matter how foolish, we will support him, even if we hate him, to the bitter end of that act. We will cheer, film and share his fate with you all. But we will, under no circumstances, work against him. Any man that does is branded bitch and excluded from all further antics.

As it turns out Mr. Tied was a hit and is fast becoming a legend. He will still make appearances from time to time, mostly to get under Mary's skin. She is a great sport about the whole thing and is deeply sorry for the Angry Hat Incident. Lesson learned she moves on, continuing to love my friend and I am happy for them both.  I thought, briefly to end this tale with a moral. But, there is no moral here. There are, however, a couple of lessons:

1. Ladies, keep your hands off the cover, unless you are going to prop it on your head wit a sexy flair.
2. Gentlemen: Did she swipe your cover? Did she throw away your favorite shirt? Does she dress you? Be creative in how you express your dislike for her behavior.

and in the end, lessons learned, we all move on. I recently made an appearance at a party I attended. While Tongue Tied didn't show up that night he was, as he often is, brought up in conversation. The story, told and told again, has lost none of it's charm or value and I believe Mr. Tied just might live forever.

What is up with you and the Rats?

Not so long ago I decided I wanted a rat.
http://www.dapper.com.au/g3bokehrope1.jpg
Not just any rat...I wanted a companion. I wanted a little friend I could sneak into restaurants, freak my kiddo out with, and write stories about. I saw these two tiny grey rats in a pet store one day. They captured my mind and my heart in those few moments. I have been digging in and preparing myself to become a first time rat owner. The idea, the dragon and the rat, is very cool for me and I intend to create a new bond between myself and nature through the nurturing of a different sort of relationship.

So, dear friends. With that said. I need advice, ideas, assistance, names, ideas, tricks, treats and anything you can send me about our rat friends.

Anything is helpful.

2 Weeks

"Time fly's and changes things man, but you should never forget that your friends haven't forgotten." -Screwface the Dragon King

That isn't a direct quote. It's a very well written sentence, in comparison to the hip-hop short hand that's necessary to make a point in 90 beats per minute.

The point here is that time, while it moves on and appears to be the cause of change, some of us haven't forgotten yesterday. Ten years from now I will remember the last two weeks of my life as vividly as if they happened over the last two weeks, which they did.

Two weeks ago I was in love. On the surface that hasn't changed, I am still in love, with a beautiful, good, brilliant, wonderful woman. That love isn't, however, the same as it was two weeks ago. Then I carried my love for her on my back. I had to, because I was also carrying guilt, fear, and desire along with the things in my life that had nothing to do with her.

I felt guilty because I didn't have work. I felt guilt every time I forgot to turn off a light or needed and extra load of laundry done that day. I found myself trying to minimize my impact on her personal ecomomy sometimes only using enough energy in a day to run this computer and keep the words coming. Which was another reason for guilt. While I worked fairly hard at finding work, I worked much harder at building my writing career. A bit selfish, and very stupid I allowed parts of my life to fall by the wayside as I finally focused on another part. i never felt good about any of this. i wanted to do for her, and with her but I wanted to do it my way. I didn't want our lives to be dictated to us by some bullshit job, which I feel is all I'm going to get if I don't make something happen with my writing. so around and around I went, writing, and feeling guilty I hadn't done more that day. I'd circle the house, my little routine in place, making sure when she walked through that door every day there was nothing for her to worry about, nothing for her to be angry about. There was plenty.

I found myself feeling guily every time I took a minute to myself. I felt like I shouldn't take an hour to play some games, or I shouldn't be out hanging with the boys on an empty wallet and someone elses gas. I felt like I should be there with her, and for her in support of her no matter what. If I was going to be a work from home, starving artist, it was the least I could do. She often spoke about needing some time alone, but I never knew how to accomplish that for her. I was afraid that one day she would wake up and just be sick of me. Which she did, and was, but not for the reasons I thought. I was afraid she would grow tired of my face, she instead grew tired of my dependency on her. And it wasn't for the stuff she was doing, she would've done those things for me anyway, it was my dependency on her for those things I never asked for. I always felt that if I couldn't pay my own cover, have my own 20 dollars for tips and my own little cash for beer, then I should stay home.  But if I was always home, then I was never gone, and the more I was home, the more I was afraid she was growing tired of me. Fear is a great motivator but it was a bit too late. I don't scare easily, I always hought we'd work it out, but the fear parzized me, made me afraid to bring the subject up, afraid to see what I saw, afraid to ask for help. I'm still afraid to ask for help, I may always be, but at least I learned that about myself in those two weeks.

I had the deepest desire for our relationship to succeede. I envisioned myself, an up and coming established writer, banging away atthe keyboard, bringing home the bacon doing what I love to do. That desire still exists, no doubt, and far from diminished, but it's different. My new found forward motion as a professional in the literary world, must at this point be accompanied by some sort of...regular income. I have the desire for our families to become one. I desire all the things we talked about on those warm nights, twined together in bed; I playing with her hair and kising her gently, she holding me tightly whispering words of encouragement and love. We both want the same things, professorship, a life in the literary world as teachers, writers, publishers; A house on the beach and a brownstone in Boston; another child, one we make and raise together. I desire all these things and more. I have always felt that I could accomplish anything with her by my side. I have moved far from where I was when I met her two years ago and further still in these last two weeks. Where I thought our desire had been crushed by fear and guilt I found in the end it's been made stronger by what's happened to us here. My desire didn't change, nor did my love, it just took me a time to see it.

You see, two weeks ago she threw me out and it was harsh and unforgiving in its suddenness, but forgiving and gentle in its generosity. I think that is what tempered my anger and allowed me to think clearly. I spent those two weeks on a cycle of drink and fitful sleep. I found reasons to dive, and dive deeply, into the abyss. I stared the demons there down and I challenged them, "come, you cowards and fools, stare back if you dare." they did of course and, as ever I do, I found my demons not that frihtening, rather familliar and comfortable. sitting with my thoughts is like sitting in a council chamber, all your advisors ranged around you, good and bad, all giving you advice they thing will benefit the corporation. Be done with it some counciled. You can move on, get into producing porn, you can become an escort, they love you the bitches do. You'd be rich in no time. How, can you say you really loved her if you don't see this through others screamed at me. I never ignored them, any of those raging voices in my head. For two weeks we took council, held court and had some of my voices executed in the square, but I found that I do love her. I really love her. She is a fantastic woman and I believe that together we can accomplish what we dreamed of, not so long ago in that tiny blue room we shared, drunk off vodka only just then discussing dreads and whats next.I loved her then and I love her now.

Two weeks ago I thought our relationship was over, and i was ready to rage out into the world, never again to be caught up in the wiles of any woman.  Today, it may be complicated but it's intact and growing stronger by the hour. We are together, but apart and for now that is the way it has to be. We are people who challenge conventional relationships and so embracing a lifestyle different from the great herd is necessary for us to continue. I've accepted that things are going to progress as they progress and I have to move forward, we both do. I know that for the first time in a long time I feel comfortable writing all day, and often into the stupid hours of the night. I don't feel like I am disturbing, or neglecting anyone in doing it. I am sure she feels more comfortable in her home, even when she's missing me. We are still in love and though two weeks may have changed everything, it changed nothing and I have some memories I will never forget.

Think on where your life was only two weeks ago. While many aspects of your life may seem to not have changed at all, look more deeply and try to see the things that have. Often times those are the things we need to hear most of all.

Darlin' Girl

My Darlin', darlin girl.
Nothing in this world more precious to me
nothing in this world more pure
I sing to you because i simply cannot help myself
when I see you I am flooded,
simply overwhelemed with joy!
And what comes forth from me is a song, sung
in the spontinaiety of the moment.
I can see you there
dancing in the rain
twirling, the wind in your hair and a
smile on your lips.
YOU Are Adorable.
Meaning; I gaze upon you with adoration,
pure adoration, i feel as if I could kneel at your feet
darlin' girl,
your world mine, I yours, your knight forever; there to defend your kingdom no matter where it be.
I yours forever.
But I must stand and defend, and guide you forward in this world I myself know so little about.
Here where i often stumble and fall I provide your light. And so...
I dance in the rain with you, flying like a kite
singing like a bird with joy overflowing my heart.
If, in your life you ever remember a single thing
Remember this.
I love you with all of my heart and soul darlin girl I simply adore YOU.