The previous two posts might make people think I'm in one of those moods tonight, but I'm not really.  Sometimes things just set me off.  Friday night is when I stay up later than usual, have a pipe or two and try to write something halfway interesting or entertaining.  I've been trying to think of something in this vein that's also Christmas-y, but I guess I just don't have any good Christmas stories.  So I'll write about something else.

I was well into my adulthood before I realized that not everyone sees music.  It was several more years after that before I learned that there's actually a word for it:  synesthesia.  A simple definition from Wikipedia is that it's a "neurological condition in which two or more bodily senses are coupled."  In my case, it happens with music.

Many moons ago, when I was in college, I went to a "seminar" on electronic music.  It really turned out to be a (fantastic, I'll readily admit) demonstration of the then state-of-the-art Yamaha synthesizer.  I think it was the DX-7.  During the demo, the guy running things said something like, "Let's just add a nice red organ patch in here."  Without even thinking about it, I said, "That's not red, that's green."  Everyone thought it was some kind of odd musician joke.

I read about one case in which the person saw not only colors, but geometric shapes.  It was so bad, he couldn't listen to music while driving because the visions became externalized hallucinations that interfered with his driving.  My case isn't nearly so bad.  To use the word "see" may be too simple.  It's more of a perception.  In my case, I see flowing bands, and sometimes spots or flashes, of textured colors.  Right at this minute, my computer is playing a piece called "Urchin" by a group called Texas Yellow, and behind my eyes I can see a swelling flow of dark greens, yellows, some dark almost-blacks, silvery percussion hits, and tinkly specks of bright tan guitar welling up and subsiding like smooth waves lapping at a seashore.  At least, that's the best that I can describe it.  Most of the time, I can't put it into words very well.

Certain music, like traditional jazz, has relatively sparse instrumentation, maybe only 3 or 4 or 5 instruments.  The colors are fairly simple and not disruptive.  But with certain songs, I find that I have to suppress my perception or I can kind of sink into it.  For example, I can't listen to Pink Floyd while driving.  All their layers of guitar and synth create a tapesty that's too beguiling to ignore.  That's just one example.

I think this may be one reason why I enjoy listening to electronic music so much.  The dense layers and multitudes of different, unnatural sounds they can create look completely different from acoustic instruments.  If I close my eyes, it can almost take me over.

I recently burned a CD to use as a stocking stuffer.  I listened to it on the drive home today to make sure it played okay.  I don't normally listen to Reba McEntire, but this was for a good cause.  Usually, vocals don't have very vivid colors, and her voice is about normal.  However, the backing vocals that were providing her harmony got me.  After a couple of minutes, I realized I had let it go too long and I was toodling down the highway at 50 mph in 70 mph zone.

Enya is another artist who creates such dense, textured layers of colors that I have a hard time suppressing it, so I don't listen to her when I'm driving, either.

My favorite jazz musician is Jimmy Smith.  He defined, and was probably the best (so far) jazz organist.  I like to listen to his CDs when driving home, but I almost have to ignore it, and I keep the volume fairly low.  Like I said before, organ is not red, but green--to me, anyway.  Every "synesthete" sees their own colors.  The lower notes are dark green almost turning into black, the higher notes are bright yellowish green, and the whole spectrum is shot through with strips of gold.  The rotating speaker used with the Hammond organ creates ripples that change the flow and texture of the colors.  Instruments which can play several notes simultaneously, like organ, piano, synth, or guitar or pretty much any stringed instrument, have a much more dramatic effect on me than monophonic instruments like winds--sax or trumpet, etc.

This post has been an unusual ramble, even for me, because it's hard to put into words.  So just consider it a "something weird about me" post, and let it go at that.

At The War on Guns:

When John Ashcroft penned his "individual rights" opinion, it made headlines around the world. Terms like "sea change" were thrown about, and we were told how significant the opinion was for gun rights. The Bradys went nuts. 18 state attorneys general followed suit and drafted their own letter of concurrence. And this was used to tremendous advantage to convince gun owners to throw their support behind the Bush administration.

But now we have it from one of the top attorneys in that administration that the "collective rights" language "was reviewed and approved by the Executive Office of the President."

This is big stuff, although many won't realize it and many more may not admit it.

You see, it is recognized by almost everyone that when the phrase "the people" is used in the Constitution and the Bill of Rights, it actually means the people, that is, those individuals who make up the citizenry of this country.  They are individual rights.

However, those who would prefer us all to be obedient little subjects always try to say that the phrase "the people" in Amendment #2 doesn't actually mean the people, it means the various governmental bodies (state, federal) who would subjugate us.  Therefore, this is a "collective" right.  Which is, of course, not a right at all.*

Follow the link above and read the whole post.  Then follow the links at the bottom for more comments on the matter.

*My attempt at explaining this for the non-gunnie-types who read this blog, and who may not be aware of the individual-versus-collective definitions.

In this utterly nauseating Washington Post article, a "karate" expert gives tips on surviving a mugging.

She gives two tips that are good, in my opinion:  carry a purse that can be concealed or at least made very difficult to snatch, and stay alert.

Her other tips are what made my guts churn.  How can anyone be reduced to this?

Let go! Middleton is a karate black belt, and yet when she was mugged 10 years ago, she quickly acquiesced. Later, she learned that her attacker was notorious for firing his gun at the first sign of resistance. "That's not everybody's modus operandi, but you never know," she says. "The safest thing to do is give up your property. It isn't worth fighting for." Still, for many of us, the natural reaction to someone snatching a purse is to pull the other way. Middleton says you can prevent this by being mentally prepared: "Think ahead of time, 'If somebody tries to grab my purse, I'll give it to him.' "

So what you've just done is tell the mugger that yes, I am indeed an easy mark.  Next time you see me walking here, please feel free to grab my purse again.  Or grab someone else's.  It doesn't matter--we're all sheep here.  Eventually, after you've robbed enough people that you've gotten your courage worked up, feel free to rape and murder us, too.

Ditch the pepper spray. At my parents' insistence, I went out and bought a small vial of pepper spray called "American Defender" ($15 at Ace Hardware), but I'm terrified to use it. With good reason, Middleton says. People who carry mace or pepper spray "are more likely to get attacked -- carrying it makes them believe that they're somehow less vulnerable," she says. You should be trained before using pepper spray and mace, Middleton says, and the sprays don't work against the
usual determined attacker. Muggers know there's mace out there, she says, "and they're ready for it. It's going to get in your eyes, too, and you're going to struggle with it more, because they're prepared and you're not."

And how exactly do they get "ready" for it?  Do they carry gas masks or something?  I doubt that the common, everyday purse snatcher is so whacked out on drugs that he won't feel it.  And she trots out that good old "more likely to get attacked" bull.  What's good for guns, is good for pepper spray, I guess.  No, you're much better off just bleating politely and hoping for the best.

Carry cash. Middleton calls it "martyr money": $30 to keep in your wallet in the event of a holdup. It's an easy way to avoid a more prolonged, and costly, holdup at the ATM machine. "You're safer if you give them the money and don't say anything incendiary," Middleton advises. "Just be completely neutral and cooperative. Even be respectful: 'Yes, sir, it's all yours.' "

So, we should become mugger enablers.  I suppose she would also recommend carrying the cash in your back pockets to make it easy for the mugger to reach while you're grabbing your ankles.

Much better to give him $30 worth of ammo, including about $10 worth straight to the head.

And maybe $1.50 or so to each kneecap, just to start.

These people disgust me.

Fodder at Ride Fast and Shoot Straight posted about "little nazis."

I worked as a security guard for a short time, so I got to see things from the inside.  It didn't change my opinion of security guards in general.

I run into them a lot, now.

Guard:  "What are you doing here?"

Me:  "Reading the meters."

"How did you get in?" (getting more agitated)

"With the gate code."

"Who gave you the gate code?"

"CPS."

"Nobody's supposed to have the gate code!!!"

"Well, they do."

"I want your supervisor's phone number!!!!!"

I give him/her/it my boss's business card.  I carry them just for occasions such as this.  Mr./Mrs./Ms. guard disappears off to their super-secret security guard phone booth.  I never see them again.  I can only imagine what happens on the phone.

Guard:  "Do you have a...(mispronounces my name)...working for you?"

Boss:  "Yes, sir."

"Well, he's in here reading meters."

"Yes, sir."

"How did he get in here?"

"I believe CPS supplied him with the proper gate code, sir."

"Well, nobody's supposed to have it!!!"

And ad nauseum.  It amuses me greatly that someone will call my boss to complain that I'm doing my job.  It just brightens my whole day.