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Subject: Cancun #25 - Truth + Honesty
(Posted on Dec 9, 2016 at 04:30PM ) Tags:
There’s an old Chinese saying, "May you live in interesting times." Bob thinks we’re there right now, for many reasons. One facet therein is that what’s true and not, is becoming ever harder to discern, in part because there seems to be less regard to its importance to begin with. What may be more of a factor is to spin a good tale to capture ears and eyeballs, further a cause (phantom or otherwise), move the sheeple along a certain way, or win the day.

Perhaps truth and honesty are overrated, or at best, they need to be saved for a rainy day in a specific time window, for just five minutes, and only if it’s the fifth Tuesday of that month (that happens to fall on a Saturday). Then you will know it’s the real deal!

Sometimes, you just know one’s audience only wants to hear what they want to hear, like a long time ago at a winter tropical wedding where Bob was reflecting on occasions when one’s significant other will ask for a fashion opinion, as below. Some care needs to be taken with the reply, for one’s own health, and manhood bits and bobs, pardon the pun, lest one end up like John Wayne Bobbitt post Lorena's impromptu, impassioned, erhm, "surgery."

A fashion assessment was usually safely degrees away from the
dreaded-by-all-of-maledom “Do I look fat?” zinger, unless both elements
were combined in said female querying.
If a man knew what was good for
his well-being, never answer a chikita in the affirmative, or he was asking
for a world of hurt.
Spin some other line, like said negatory outfit was just
not flattering her form. Lying was standard operating procedure in this
circumstance, and the motherfucker who came up with “honesty is the
best policy” was lying, having a crack moment, or altruistically naïve
regarding the maxim’s applicability.

Maybe one doesn’t call it a lie, per se, instead preferring to call it "spinning an alternate reality," as marketing gurus advocate, or massage it as "porpoiseful [sic] misrepresentation." Maybe that adage was a covert way of saying it may be okay to stray from policy, as needed. The policy is there, but there’s nothing about adhering to it, akin to "Don't be evil," on the last post

Today, instead, we are faced with supposed “real” mainstream news you know is fake (covered here), and the war on more honest “fake” news that paints a completely different story. The latter is increasingly coming under pressure to be “filtered” and then ultimately outright censored / banned, because The Powers That Be don’t want us to know what's really going down.

But then, someone can tell the truth, and your sorry ass ain’t ready to fathom or understand it, or maybe it’s like in this classic scene from A Few Good Men.


Sometimes, the truth is right there in front of your eyes, and you just don't get it. 



Some say the truth is relative, or as gleaned from The Kybalion, pertaining to the Principle of Polarity, “all truths are but half-truths” (and one supposes, half-lies too). So, just kick back and say anything you want about anything, cuz, like, it seems to not matter one iota. 


Note how our gal Ayn clearly and plainly states “men" there. Could well be she damn skippy knew women don’t want to find, know, or hear the truth, if not ever, then at least not as it applies to situations dealing with stuff like fashion above and relationships, which is next up on deck.

The truth can also masquerade as humor or satire, as in this scene from the aptly named The Ugly Truth


Imagine if there was really truth and honesty in dating, as with these two on-point scenarios.


This is the way Bob dishes it out in his debut novel, as some single cat gallivanting around the world hitting other folks’ nuptials, be they friend, family or foe. If you want some laughs, and a little truth and honesty, sorta ... kinda ... maybe, about relationships and marriage, then tuck into this puppy.  No "secrets of the universe" kinda shit going on here.
 




When Bob was down Mexico way years back and sitting around the pool killing time before a wedding, between arguments with his then girlfriend, he was pondering the following, all the while gandering at her.

She took proud pleasure, whenever asked, in confirming that they were not bolt-on
bazookas. As with car configurations, I tended to agree that OEM, straight 
off the 
assembly line, was best, albeit with certain de rigueur manufacturer installed 
options.
 
Adding aftermarket parts denigrated total package value and complicated maintenance
on a long-term basis. Once you started visiting the likes of Manny, Moe, and Jack at Pep Boys
it could be hard to stop tweaking and fussing over "improvements" in a slippery-slope spiral.
 

Bob draws on this automotive analogy, as applied to people parts, to illustrate his point.

One can do these modifications (mods, for short) well, or ... poorly. You choose. It’s all just a little consideration, or not, as the case may be. If you're going to go down this road, pardon the pun, doing things properly is the way to go, whatever your ride may be. 


Seeking competent professional help may well be better than a being a passionate, yet probably inept, first-time DIYer. And then, if you decide to press on yourself regardless, with things gone bad, that may breed a future cascade of additional corrective actions, and ongoing issues ever after. Here are a few to consider. 


Some of the ones above are definitely a little more creative / artistic than others, making up for any budgetary constraints with sheer chutzpah. But, even if your wallet’s thick and you can throw mucho $$$ at the task, getting things done purrfessionally [sic] and all, you still may not get the desired "organic"and "tasteful" end result. But like with many things, beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and ultimately, the one with the check book. 


Back around the time of the wedding in the mid 90s, the range of going aftermarket with one’s body (i.e., plastic surgery), was mostly confined to the aforementioned bolt-on (boobies), nose jobs and other facial plastic surgery.  The field actually goes back to ancient civilizations and its earliest methods.


This link has a nice overview for those with a more historical interest in all this. 

Sure, there's a bonafide need for this whole area of medical practice, for those that really need it for serious reasons. Where the more amorphous judgment call falls is when folks opt for it, based on insecurity, and low self-esteem. No doubt, a lot of that also has to do with the “ideal” human imagery as constantly portrayed in and perpetrated by the media. 

Fast forward a couple of decades from the wedding, and there are a whole range of improved procedures and enhancements that can be had today. Here’s a good list from the American Society for Aesthetic Plastic Surgery. Try one … try them all, over time. Be the first kid on your tony block to tick them all off the list. It’s all gone way deeper and wider now than Charles Dick’s classic, A Tale of Two Titties.

Today, it’s not just about slicing and dicing, but there are also interesting injectables for those that wish to avail of the miracles of modern medical science to look and feel their youthful best. Some are deemed less invasive than others, and cost less $$$, but still can have some known (and unknown) long-term, undesired results to keep things interesting and with an ever--evolving look.

Bob will let all y’all decide for yourself what looks good, based on a few extreme examples.



And remember, apart from the odd DIYers that took things into their own hands to cut corners and save some do$h, most of these "improved" looks below were done by those who knew the trade, and were well paid for their skills.


If all those follies aren't enough to make one pause a bit on all this, here’s a litle more on Monique Allen's cautionary tale to draw upon. 


Yikes, after that parade, it makes one think about the risks versus benefits of these aftermarket aesthetic enhancements.

Your ass is much better off plunking down way fewer dollars and dive into a copy of this quixotic, funny, off-the-wall tale about some single guy traveling the world over to exotic weddings.



Bob never liked his Electrical Engineering (EE) studies at all. It was not his cup of tea, he just stuck through to the bitter end and then moved on with life. As pointed out in the book at that wedding in Cancun when faced with a seriously misbehaving coffee machine, this was his take on it all. 
 
“You studied electrical engineering, didn’t you?” she said.

“Yeah, but it’s not like I learned anything practical like being an electrician.”

The whole EE thing had seemed mostly about ways to do all kinds of crazy-ass, 
fucked-up math, most of which I’d already forgotten, nearly seven years after
graduation. Twinkle, twinkle, little star, Voltage, V, is I times R.
 

Here’s a typical example of that stuff, as pulled from a scintillating 2013 paper entitled "Electrical Conductivity and Nonmetal–Metal Transition of Dense Iron and Nickel Plasmas." Now, doesn't the equation below, as pulled from that puppy, just get your heart racing with excitement and want to go sign up for several years of this stuff?



Some more imaginative and innovative cats in the space like to take things beyond theory and put them into practice, for the benefit and education of all. Here’s one example demonstrating electrostatic discharge, but EE ElectroBoom guy Medhi Sadaghdar has a whole series up here if you want to learn some more.


Here’s a list of notable EEs over the years. Geez, not a lot of chikitas there, just as it was in Bob’s engineering class. Also not good and yet another reason to stay away from that field of study. Rowan Atkinson took it to one level more of punishment and paper from BS (bullshit) to MS (more shit), and look what he did with his life. Change it up is what, once he got smart about that choice. 

Some may even want to take stuff a step further and go all the way to Ph.D (piled higher and deeper). Bob's view on education in general can be found in his last post.

Exactly! Take that as a hint. At the end of the day, Bob reckons that most electrical engineers would much rather be like this guy—the most interesting man in the world from the well-known series of Dos Equis beer ads. EE sure ain’t gonna do that for your ass. There are a ton of those commericials, and many can be seen here and here, beyond what is below.



Maybe even more interesting is the background on how that actually happened for our man Jonathan Goldsmith behind the beer ad campaign.


On the other hand, EE studies may well make you the least interesting man in the world.


On a related note, just just because you didn’t study EE, don’t let that stop you and your friends from exploring the joyous possibilities of electricity in different ways.


Here are a few good ideas in that department. Bob’s personal favorite in this compilation is the #4 pissing on the electric fly swatter. 
 

But danger, danger, in reality, it can get way more serious than that. Remember, there are big perils out there with electricity, especially as the voltage level climbs, as this video from India graphically points out. N.B. Nonny donny press play if you are squeamish about seeing someone get completely crisped. 


You don’t need to have studied electrical engineering to have that warning come home. Makes you wonder how Dos Equis man would have managed that. Really, at the end of the day, for most EEs out there toiling away in industry, the work is a far cry from anything really exciting.


As an exception, this cat has a few more thrills in the field though. You gotta like his parting commentary about his three fears in life.



Whatever you choose to do with your life, be it EE, not EE, or sumpin’ else completely, make sure you do it well, as our learned and experienced pitchman advocates—that's something you can take to the bank.



Bob is so friggin' glad he traded that whole world in to become a part-time typist (PTT) and occasional wedding guest (OWG) at spots all around the world.
In keeping with the name game practice of hidden meanings and/or famous references sprinkled throughout the book, some of the characters in this beachside wedding chapter down Mexico way circa winter 1996 fall into ths category. 

There was a porpoiseful [sic] musical theme going on with the names of Bob's former classmates that attended from Europe, whether they be Dutch, Norwegian, Cuban or Spanish by origin. They were all lumped together in a single sentence in gang-of-five fashion.

There was Anouk ter Eeuw, Dutch, here on vacation with a female friend of hers,
Norwegian Morten Furuholmen, his Cuban wife Ana Cristina, and from Barcelona,
Jaume Sisa, with his wife Malú, which was short for María Lucía.

 
Here’s the deal on all of the names and references therein. 

1) Anouk ter Eeuw was a play on Dutch singer Anouk (Teeuwe). She's probably best remembered for 1997's "Nobody’s Wife" and picked no doubt for the marital theme there, and perhaps the blonde hair in common with Birgitta Henriksen at the time.


Her surname, ter Eeuw, translates from Dutch meaning "for centuries" and sums up how long Bob felt the two-week vacation and wedding trip had seemingly dragged on for with girlfriend Birgitta at the time. 

2) Morten Furuholmen and Norway are the clues for the take on A-ha from back in 1985, and their biggest hit "Take on Me". This was a combination of the names of two of its three members, Morten Harket (vocals) and Magne Furuholmen (keyboards). Hey, bad on Bob for not working in third member Pål Waaktaar (guitarist), but hey, Paul had a few variants on his name it seems, so it was kept simple.


3) Ana Cristina borrows the name of current day singer-songwriter of Cuban descent, Ana Cristina (Álvarez). But in 1996, our real-life, yet-to-be entertainer was not even 11 years old at the time of the wedding, so Bob just time-traveled her name back as needed. Yo, artistic license allows for this kind of crap anyhoo. It's Bob's book, and he can do whatever he wants.


4) Jaume Sisa and Malú (María Lucía), the couple from Barcelona, were named after the two Spanish singers. Our guy definitely has his own style, and defines himself as "Galactic." Makes one wonder if any alien abduction stuff is at play here. Her style is a little more conventional, and she's the niece of Paco De Lucía, the renowned guitarist, and daughter of the flamenco singer, Pepe De Lucía. There be a whole lot of music going on in that family. 
 

In aggregate, Bob was going with names that fit with the countries of origin, and not necessarily that the music by some of these artists, if a little mellow jello at times by some folks' judgment, grooved with his own personal taste. Currently, Bob is more likely to be listening to something more energetic and punchy, or a little Austin Powers shagadelic and groovy, Baby, just like these two tunes.


5) Last, but not least, for non pop-culture, bookworm types, I threw in a solitary literary reference in this chapter with Juan Rulfo, who was named after the Mexican author (1917 – 1986), screenwriter and photographer of note. His character in the book is the Mexican friend of the bride's family, who worked as an economist in Phoenix. He was the guy mixing up the micheladas that afternoon and pouring out the fine tequila later in the evening.


Sometimes you go with fame, and sometimes you go with a name that just sounds really kool. From the sporting world, in this latter category, the likes of Coco Crisp, Dick Trickle, Fabián Assmann and I.M. Hipp spring to mind and provide for inspiration there. With names like that, it makes one wonder if they actually "are" and/or "do" when met live in-person. 



Bob is saving a few of these neater sounding (but completely fabricated) names for the next two instalments in the trilogy. Here’s a prime tandem example to come: 

 Jack Goff and Holden Hiscock—they were the best of friends.
 
There’s also gonna be some cat called Chris Peacock and a “chikita banana” named  Selena Goodhead. As regards the banana angle in that expression, it was covered off in detail here recently. 

Hey, don’t look at Bob that way regarding all this movie-based naming innuendo! It’s all in keeping with tradition and the likes of Alotta Fagina from Austin Powers: International Man of Mystery (1997), on down to Dr. Holly Goodhead from Moonraker (1979) and even further back to Pussy Galore in Goldfinger (1964).


One would need to do some much deeper research to see if this goes back even earlier than the start of the first Bond flick, Dr. No (1962), or predating Ian Fleming's original book series.

My all-time favorite with this naming convention comes from the same Fagina bin, in this scene from Austin Powers in Goldmember (2002), with Austin going Japanese (in stereo to boot, for added aural fidelity) with them sassy twins Fook Mi and Fook Yu. There's so much more to this scene between the dialogue, body language / physicality, visuals and even Austin's ten-deep bucket list, the details of which are listed here if one is so-ever curious and discerning to dig deep on them there devilish details. 


There’s alotta good material to play with here, and so little time.

So sayeth Bob N. Boguslavski, some single guy meeting all kinds of interesting people at weddings around the planet. With a name like his, makes you wonder if it’s real. But then all you have to do is compare his name to some of those last ones above, and you ain’t gonna be spinning many cerebral cycles for long.

After all, as stated at the start of the novel, "this is a work of f(r)iction, where fact and fiction rub up against each other, and nobody wants to know it regardless."



Subject: Cancun #25 - Hell in Mexico
(Posted on Apr 26, 2014 at 07:54PM ) Tags:
What’s in a name, especially, when it’s Hell?

  Painting: An image of Hell, with some angel leading a soul into the party, in the style of Dutch painter Hieronymus Bosch, and likely done by some Italian punter (oil on wood, circa 16th century). 

Supposedly, that hot “spot” has several characteristics, and certainly many names (to describe its multiple facets), judging by this here interesting and informative Islamic piece alone. Call it what you will, be it Jaheem, Jahannam, Lazaa, al-Sa’eer, Saqar, al-Hatamah and/or al-Haawiyah, but it takes on a whole new dimension when you’re down in Cancun, mid-winter, with your girlfriend, and fighting daily about anything and everything on what is otherwise supposed to be an awesome tropical vacation getaway.

Okay, so we took a break from sparring on Valentine’s Day, just for optics, priase be Allah. 

Regardless of what was going on with our personal relationaship at the time, bottomline, we were there for a wedding and had to suck it up, be nice, and make like we were a tight couple.. 

Here’s how my mindset at the time made that day in paradise for the couple come out and seem, at least upside my head. Go figure.

  Painting: Pristine Cartera Turkus

Nice work here by the way. Diggin’ that whole Día de los Muertos (Day of the Dead in Ingreesch) look, even if that doesn’t really come around in reality until Halloween, and we were there in February, 

By the end of that trip, she and I had split up, but the couple married that day back in 1996 are still trucking along just fine. Maybe all that tequila on the day/night of helped a lot long term.

Despite my whole “go to destination wedding with Swedish girlfriend and break up” domestic strife siutation at the time, the wedding was set against a dazzling beach backdrop in Cancun and the area around it on the Mayan Riviera, as this Pinterest Board attests to with some great photos (all of which are NOT mine, cuz like, I didn't own a cameria). This was all well before the day of mobile smartphones and tablets with hi-res, built-in, on-board cameras. 
 
The wedding, coupled wirh the GF split, all made for one of the more memorable and unique wedding experiences in my life, as some single stumblebum hitting matrimonial events all around the planet. 


Subject: Cancun #25 - That Gusano de Oro character
(Posted on Jan 19, 2014 at 07:37PM ) Tags:
You just know when you have had a deep and meaningful, long-term impactful life experience after one brief encounter that comes back to haunt you some 11 years later. What I am squawking about here is that chipper looking Gusano de Oro character (or Golden Worm in English) from the mezcal brand of the same name. Just take a look at him here below..


See what I mean? He sure looks all warm and fuzzy, but let me tell you, that sucker knows how to pack a punch. Don’t let that warm, beckoning smile disarm you either.  Talk about sneaky, if memorable, marketing ploys. My virgin exposure to this bad boy was in Tijuana back in ’85, and I was hanging out on a road trip with a couple of the lads from university when we bought a bottle for consumption. The bottle sure looked cool anyway., what with the worm sitting on the bottom. Then we started drinking it. 

Mezcal is generally very smoky--and I mean VERY. Right up there smoky like these 6 scotch whisky brands, but not nearly as smooth or refined. It has an edge, whether you are drinking it neat, or having orange slices sprinkled with some of that sal de gusano (or worm salt, if you will) on the side to help it slide down a little better.

I hear that there are various grades of mezcal, but I ain’t no expert, not having tried enough other brands over the years except for that Gusano Rojo puppy as shown here.
Look at him (or maybe it is her). Now this second  worm is playing a little more coy and seems much more shy, but you just gotta know that red is flashing “Danger, danger!”

Anyway, you can now better understand why that apparition in the form of Gusano de Oro, floating above the bed on that wedding night in Cancun (with a fuming Birgitta at my side), and talking to me in English with Mitchell Randolph’s voice was enough to freak anybody out. But at least he had a valuable warning for me. When encounters like that, imaginary or otherwise, happen, you have to take heed. Either that, or it was the evening’s fine Tres Generaciones añejo tequila talking to me, and just messing with my head.

No matter what it was, I was listening, and became a single guy again shortly thereafter.