Ocular Fusion

If for some reason you've not been automatically whisked away to my new location, it is located at ocularfusion.net. See you there!

My conversion to WordPress is going well. Expect an unveiling very soon.

There's been some discussion here and elsewhere on whether the all mighty Google is, as my mother says, "getting too big for its britches."

Well, Scott Adams thinks so. This week he's having a little fun with everyone's favorite search engine algorithm through everyman and corporate grunt, Dilbert. Enjoy.

I'll be offline for a short period preparing what I hope will be a new and improved (in appearance if not content) Ocular Fusion. For various reasons, I've decided to switch from Blogger to WordPress with some help from Harding grad and WebbleYou proprietor Justin Baeder.

Justin is just the guy to enable an HTML-challenged, middle-aged blogger like me to pull it off, but I still may need a few days to get things just the way I want. So I beg your pardon for the dust and please check back soon.

In the meantime, check out today's USA Today and this article on Bill Cosby. America's favorite funnyman has been depositing regularly in his good will savings account over the years and now he's drawing on some of that collateral and credibility as he tours the country "calling out" inner-city communities to a higher standard of personal responsiblity and behavior.

His ongoing multi-city tour is stirring up controversy, just like his NAACP speech did 2 years ago. And, just like the controversial Da Vinci Code, a spate of "in response to" books are popping up as well.

The "thrill of victory and the agony of de feet" were everywhere apparent at this year's 2006 Alabama State Soccer Championships this past weekend in Huntsville. Dreams were made and shattered as match after match was decided in sudden-death "golden goal" overtime or kicks from the mark. The biggest thrill was watching the Lady Tigers from Number One son's Grissom High School take home their first blue trophy since 1999 in a thrilling 2-1 victory over arch-rival Oak Mountain. The game was dead-even at 1-1 after regulation and two hard-fought overtime periods and eventually was decided by kicks from the mark (more on that in a moment).

Among the teams whom I hosted for the tournament, one was eliminated in the semifinals while the other one took home their second championship in a row. For the girls team from Gadsden Southside High, it was their first Final Four appearance, and they arrived wide-eyed and eager to get on the pitch and show their stuff. The only problem was they brought only dark socks, and since they were the designated home team for their match, they were required to wear light-colored socks and jerseys. After checking with the head referee, who informed me that they would have to forfeit if they couldn't take the field in white hose, off I went with credit card in hand to make an emergency equipment run to Pete's Soccer Shop. I arrived with 19 pairs of new white socks moments before the team was to be inspected by the referees and sent onto the field.

The Gadsden girls lost 3-0 to eventual champion Briarwood Christian, but their 8th and 9th grader-laden squad put up a good scrap against the older and more experienced Lady Lions. And I must say, those pristine, white soccer socks looked mighty fine. Finally, I got to do something significant as a team host!

My other team was the Homewood High School boys team, the defending 5-A state champs. I had noted Coach Sean McBride's thick Scottish brogue a few nights before on the phone, so I figured that he probably knew his stuff when it comes to real football. His team went out on the pitch and proved my intuition correct, coming from behind in both of their matches to win their second state championship in a row.

But not without a few equipment problems of their own. Moments before the championship began, Coach McBride looked down at his feet and realized he wasn't wearing his "lucky Pumas." He sent word to his wife in the stands who then went and retrieved them from the locker room. Number Three son was standing by the gate to the playing area and he took the handoff from Mrs. McBride and delivered them to Coach just prior to the opening kickoff. After the match, Coach McBride assured me that he really wasn't superstitious, but that he just felt more comfortable in them than the other shoes. Yeah right. I'm glad they won, because that made the first of the teams whom I've hosted over the past four years to finally win a state title. Coach McBride, thanks to you and your crew for finally lifting the "Curse of the Eyeguy."

Words can't describe how it felt watching the Grissom ladies win a state title, so how about a little video instead. The first is of Madison Brakefield, a 5th-year varsity striker who has a throw in technique that you'll absolutely flip over. Madison has signed with Mississippi State, which means that she'll be taking her ninja act all across the Southeastern Conference come fall.

The second video is of Auburn signee Jessica Childress knocking home the winning kick from the mark to seal the title. Jessica was the foundation of the Grissom defense, but we all gasped when she injured her hip in Friday's semifinal. She arrived for Saturday's final taped tighter that King Tut, but she gritted her way through every minute of the game and overtime until finally, as the fifth and final Grissom shooter, she stood one-on-one versus the Oak Mountain keeper with the title on the line.

Say, who's that excited middle-age soccer addict narrating that video? The only way he could be more excited is if the Grissom boys got their act together and won a state championship before a hometown crowd next year.

The ladies have raised the bar gentlemen. Grrrrrr--now let's get to work and go get it!

This morning Number Three Son and I will head over to the John Hunt Soccer Complex for the opening matches of the Alabama State Soccer Championships. Huntsville has the best soccer complex in the state and has hosted the championships since 2001. This is an annual tradition for Number Three and me. He serves as a ball boy--excuse me, ball handler--and I volunteer to be a team host. As a host I work with a couple of visiting teams just making sure that they're comfortable, find their way around and have everything they need to compete successfully.

What's in it for me? Well, how about an "All Access" pass for starters! Having an All Access pass at the state soccer championships is at least as good as a back-stage pass at a Spinal Tap concert. This means I can go anywhere I like, including the bench area located between the two world-class soccer pitches (those are soccer fields for the uninitiated) where I get a "behind-the-scenes" look at the action, including the ability to stand in one spot and rotate, taking in two games at once. I also get to visit the hospitality room, which means I get all the Diet Coke, fruit and munchies that a middle-age soccer aficionado could ever want.

Excuse me, is this heaven? No, it's the Final Four of Alabama high school soccer on a sunny, 70 degree day in Huntsville!

The only down side is that Number One's (#16 in the picture) team, the Grissom Tigers, were knocked out of the playoffs in the first round. Ranked number one in the state going in and the odds-on favorite to win it all, they lost a heartbreaking 4-3 decision in OT to rival Mountain Brook. They dug themselves a hole early going down 3-1, so we were proud of the way they fought back. Unfortunately, our defenders' legs were a little rubbery in OT and we just didn't quite have enough to finish. Next year, with 12 seniors returning, we hope to be playing in the Final Four before a hometown crowd. Still, at 24-4 on the season, you can't complain too much.

On the upside, the Grissom girls team played through to the Final Four (Go Lady Tigers!), and other Huntsville area teams playing include the Huntsville High girls team and both the boys and girls teams from Randolph School.

Indeed, it's a beautiful day for the "beautiful game."
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Speaking of Huntsville High, I wanted to give you an update on my post from earlier this week, Fast Times at Huntsville High. As far as I can tell from my highly-placed sources (heh), this is starting to settle down and apparently both the students and parents involved are accepting their punishment without any loud wails of protest.

In addition to not receiving their diplomas until they complete their 100 hours of community service to the homeless, the school will also withhold their final transcripts as well. Keep in mind that college acceptances are typically "conditional" on completing the year in good standing. So, this may place some of the pranksters in the awkward position of having to explain to colleges what happened and why they aren't able to provide them with their final grades. Hopefully, all this will put a little crimp in that annoying swagger we witnessed early on in this sordid business.

Just like my piece on Nancy Grace and Churches of Christ, my Monday post was picked up by an internet "news outlet," and as a result I've been receiving quite a few first-time visitors this week. Sploid.com seems to me to be the internet equivalent of The National Enquirer. Their mission statement, such as it is, reads like this:

"SPLOID delivers the tabloid breaking news you crave: fresh disasters, strange crimes, political scandal, odd characters, bizarre phenomena, freakish animals, horrifying conspiracies, goofy do-gooders, police idiocy and all the government-gone-wild insanity you can handle."

I think that pretty much says it all. The piece they did on the senior prank (beware that it contains a graphic image of prisoner abuse at Abu Ghraib) is full of innuendo and half-truths and finishes with a very gratuitous slam at the state of Alabama--all in all, typical slipshod tabloid fare. The link to my post can be found at the phrase "acts of depravity."

I'm not sure how I feel about becoming a part of the "media landscape," much less a link in a tabloid hack job. I guess the upside is that those who are clicking on the link and reading my post are getting a little more even-handed and balanced view of the situation from someone who is actually there on the scene. I can assure our northernly neighbors that we can handle such situations and take care of our own. I know it's not good news, but look around--you've got a few problems too. Mind your own business you bunch of carpetbaggers, ya hear?

That's all from Huntsville, where the men are decked out in polo shirts and khakis, the women wear way too much makeup, and the children are overscheduled, overstimulated and overachieving.

The assimilation has begun. Resistance is futile.

Although it wasn't supposed to happen until 2008, I have evidence that Google and Amazon have already joined forces to create Googlezon, a platform combining Google's superb seach engine technology with Amazon's "social recommendation engine" and "huge commercial infrastructure." Here's the story:

On Tuesday, I had one of my "40-something" brain lock moments at the office. I had a patient in the chair with early macular degeneration for whom I planned to prescribe Ocuvite eye vitamins. The only problem was I couldn't for the life of me remember the dosage.

So I turned to my computer and while explaining the reason for the vitamins to the patient, quickly typed "Ocuvite" into Google and found the website, which of course provided me with the proper dosage--all in a matter of seconds.

Yesterday, I went to Amazon to look up a book that I was interested in purchasing, and low and behold, what should I find listed at the top of the page but a "recommendation" suggesting that I purchase Ocuvite along with listings for several other "similar products."

Whoa. That can only mean one thing--Google ratted me out to Amazon. And that means that the two of them are talking to each other, a full two years ahead of time to boot.

I can only imagine the conversation taking place these days:

Google: "Hey, Z, check out the Eyeguy! He forgot a dosage again and had to look it up. What a loser, I thought doctors were supposed to be gods and know everything."

Amazon: "What up, G-man?! Yeah, that's been happening a lot since he turned forty. Say, uh, if you don't mind me asking, what drug was it?"

Google: "Ocuvite with Lutein. You ought to bring that one to his attention next time he wanders over your way."

Amazon: "Excellent idea, Goog, will do. What else has he been looking up lately?"

Google: "Well, let's see...baldness remedies, Nancy Grace, Spinal Tap, oh, here's something you might be interested in, he seems to be checking out laptops a lot these days. Computers that is, not dancers."

Amazon: "That can only mean one thing: Mother's Day is near and he's thinking about getting a new computer for Eyegal. Typical guy--buy the latest electronic gizmo for your wife so that both of you can use it. What a clueless moron!

Google: "No argument here Z!"

Amazon: "Thanks Goog, that's very useful information. I'll flash a few laptops and a few other digital thing-a-ma-jigs next time he's over here and see if he takes the bait. I might even throw up a few DVDs like King Kong and Jarhead. Heh, now there's a couple of 'chick flicks' for ya!"

Google: "Hey, go easy on him Z! Why don't you throw in Pride and Prejudice and Tristen and Isolde in there too--don't make him look too bad. Hey no fair, here I am spilling all the beans and not any poop from you. Come on Zster, give it up!"

Amazon: "All right, all right. The latest titles he's been checking out include How Soccer Explains the World: An Unlikely Theory of Globalization, Father Joe and Da Vinci Code Decoded. Oh, and check this out. He's been looking at this book written by some chick named Nancy French which will come out this fall. Get a load of this title: A Red State of Mind: How a Catfish Queen Reject Became a Liberty Belle. Now that sounds like a real must read! Seems he's also been looking at another one she wrote called South Pacific Journal. Heh, looks like we've got a few copies of that one in the bargain bin. Hey, wasn't there a musical with that name?

Google: "Yup, sounds like a clear cut case of plagiarism to me. Well, that's all very interesting Z. Ya know, this whole Googlezon thing is working out quite nicely, don't ya think?

Amazon: "Indeed, G-man, indeed. They're eating out of our hands and don't even realize it. Pretty soon, they will be fully assimilated and become one with Googlezon."

Google: "That's right, Z! And there's absolutely nothing they can do about it because, as the Borg would say, 'resistance is futile.'"

Google and Amazon: (peals of sinister laughter)

And so on and so on, like two cyberwags gossiping across a fence.

This is no dystopian fiction. This is real, and it is happening now. Prepare to be assimilated--Googlezon has begun.

I'll admit that I'm not much of a video-gamer. My idea of a good video game involves running from ghosts or defending the earth from marauding space invaders. Besides, the reflexes aren't what they used to be, so I leave the video games to the three young bucks in my house. But I can still hold my own and beat them in ping-pong (and probably in PONG as well). Ok, I'll admit that Number Three did beat me the other night, but that was only because I wasn't wearing my sweatbands.

I bring all this up to introduce a forthcoming video game currently evolving under the direction of the creator of The Sims, Will Wright. The game is called Spore and will be released sometime next year. Check out this description in this morning's USA Today:

At the start, you control a single-cell organism — a spore, struggling to survive in a tide pool. Using simple tools, you help your spore evolve into a creature that emerges onto land. Skillful adaptation allows you to multiply into a tribe that eventually builds cities, then a globe-conquering civilization.

"I think of Spore as a very personal universe," Wright says. "Each player ends up roughly creating their own world at every level as they play through the game, and eventually they begin exploring other players' worlds. Each player is crafting their own personal universe in a box."

Ok, now let me get this straight. This new game is supposed to simulate general, or macroevolution. Hello, anybody home? Does anybody see something wrong with this picture?

As I understand it, general evolution is supposed to be random and unguided. Wouldn't it have been more accurate and intellectually honest to make a game in which you would just sit back and watch as your "personal universe in a box" took shape, without any sort of intervention on your part? Oh wait, that wouldn't work either since the game itself would require a creator too. Start throwing the "C" word around and pretty soon Little Johnny won't be allowed to play Spore in biology class at the local public high school.

Oh, the complex conundrums facing today's earnest philosophical materialists! It's almost enough to make me feel sorry for them. Almost. The fact of the matter is that when Spore is released next year, millions of youths will falsely believe that are playing "evolution," when, in fact, they will merely be playing GOD.

It's not every day that national news occurs in Huntsville, Alabama. But in the case of this particular story, we denizens of the "Rocket City" would have preferred to keep a lower profile.

Last Thursday, several seniors at Huntsville High School suffered from simultaneous group brain lock and decided that they would salve their senioritis and seal their legacy with the "greatest senior prank of all time." Their idea? Lure a mentally ill homeless man into the school with promises of food and money and have him take off his pants and streak down the halls in the middle of a class change. After apparently sneaking the man into the building through several locked doors, they were unfortunately successful in their attempt.

What ever happened to crickets in the hallway and stealing your archrival's mascot? Back in my day, if there was going to be any streaking, people generally had the spine to do it themselves without contracting it out. What gutless wunderkinder we're raising these days.

The resulting community uproar, among adults at least, has been intense. Thankfully, as of this morning, the story has had limited distribution through the wire services, although I expect that to change as the news cycle picks up this week. I don't know which is more disturbing, the fact that soon-to-be-on-their-own "adults" would conceive and carry out such a dehumanizing stunt, or the fact that now, even days later, they are being defended by many of their peers at school who think the incident has been overblown and was "funny."

Well "funny" is likely to be less so once the powers that be sort out the situation and begin to mete out punishment to the generals, lieutenants and foot soldiers who carried out the dastardly prank. Options include not walking at graduation and withholding their diplomas, suspension, explusion and some type of community service.

I would stop short of ruining someone's life, but I would make sure that the summer of 2006 is remembered for hard work, hot sun and the hundreds of homeless faces whom you served meals to down at the local rescue mission. Obviously, these seniors are missing some important pieces of education from their portfolios. Nothing like a little "summer school" to solve that problem.

So, this is what "fast times at Huntsville High" look like these days. I wonder what Jeff Spicoli would say? Probably something like, "No brains, no pants, no diploma."

Speaking of Henry John Deutschendorf, Jr. (aka John Denver), in 1974 he was one of my favorite musical artists, along with Elton John, Steely Dan, The Eagles and Bachman Turner Overdrive (BTO). I was pretty eclectic, even though I had no idea at the time what that word meant. All I knew was that I liked it loud--"Annie's Song" was simply not the same unless it was belted out at the top of one's lungs with the radio volume button turned all the way to the right.

Hence the problem. This was long before the advent of "personal listening devices" such as iPods, back in the stone-age when LP stereos were located in common areas and a set of headphones was a rare luxury. I shared my common living area with a 16-year-old classical music-crazed, piano virtuoso wannabe older sister and a 2-year-old sister who was more into Romper Room, Mrs. Beasley dolls and taking naps in the middle of the day. Obviously this cramped my personal music listening style, and on November 11, 1974, I had reached my breaking point as this poignant entry from my 7th grade journal clearly shows:

I'm not getting equal time. My sister is always at the piano with the bust of her best friend Beethoven. She's always playing her nice, sweet sonatas and not leaving time for me and John Denver. You see the stereo is unfortunately in the same room as the piano. I just can't win. Either one sister is asleep or the other is playing the piano. I'm getting a couple of more John Denver albums for my birthday and I'm not sure I'll even get to play them. Oh, how I long for December 25th when I will get a record player of my own!

Oh, the travesty of justice, oh the inhumanity of it all! This was not the first time that my eyes were opened to the fact that "equal rights" meant that guys got screwed, nor would it be the last. Fortunately, I did eventually get my own stereo, plus dad built a new bedroom for me in the basement, my own personal sound studio perfectly suited for cranking up the volume to the appropriate eardrum numbing, uberdecibal levels that these days account for my constant refrain of "Heh? What's that you said, Sonny?"

A couple of years later, I even got to see John Denver, live in concert at the Roanoke Civic Center--along with my parents and sisters. Yeah, those were wild times in Southwest Virginia. While Eyegal was in the big city of St. Louis, riding some air guitar playing dude's shoulders while holding aloft the ubiquitous butane lighter at a Boston concert, I was sitting in Roanoke with my family while John Denver belted out such classics as "Thank God I'm a Country Boy," "Country Roads," and "I'm Leaving on a Jet Plane."

What my parents didn't count on was the fact that the one-hit wonder Starland Vocal Band was the opening act. When they launched into a rowdy and raucous rendition of "Afternoon Delight," I was, needless to say, intrigued:
And that's just the PG-rated stuff. But you know what? Starland Vocal Band had stumbled on to a great truth there. As Eyegal and I have discovered over the years, "delight" can often be uncovered in the midst of crazy times and places such as in between diaper changes, in the kitchen as the macaroni and cheese is starting to burn and even in the middle of a cold dark night when you're bone tired and world weary. All in all, it's been more than enough to make me forget all about Annie.

These days, my best stereo is a Bose and it's located in my little black Audi A4. Most of the time, I'm not ashamed to admit, I listen to NPR and classic/soft rock (there's no use in hiding it, unless I'm toting around my sons and their friends). Every now and then, strains from a distant past fill my ears, and I reach down and instinctively turn the volume dial all the way to the right. Suddenly, it's 1974 again, and Annie "fills up my senses" while the young turks in their tricked-out Honda Civics look on in awe and bemusement as a stone-age relic transcends the surly bonds of the mundane and passes into audio nirvana.

In 1972, comedian George Carlin released the monologue, Seven Words You Can Never Say On Television on his album Class Clown. In 1973, some of those words even made it onto the radio airwaves when WBAI-FM broadcast, uncensored, another Carlin monologue containing the same profanity.

My parents wouldn't even let me watch M*A*S*H or All in the Family much less listen to Carlin, but that never stopped a preteen who was determined to hear what all the fuss was about. The problem was I had the kind of mother who always had the uncanny knack of knowing when my Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition was going to arrive and intercepting it before I could get home from school, so coming by critical information in those days wasn't easy.

Enter my friend Rusty from church (where else?). Rusty was a "man of the world" who had seen and heard a thing or two in his time and he was the go-to guy in such situations. One day after his parents had left us alone while running an errand, Rusty invited me up to his room to listen to a copy of Carlin's monologue which he kept cleverly hidden in a John Denver album cover. Needless to say, my ears fairly tingled as they were opened to a new level of vocabulary that I'd never been exposed to in my elementary school classroom.

But the elementary school playground was another story. Indeed, by the mid-70s Carlin's act was being mimicked around tether ball poles and on basketball courts across this great land. On September 10, 1974, I had heard enough, and as is evident from this entry in my 7th grade journal, I was "madder than #$%&*^@ and I wasn't going to take it anymore:"

I seem to have got hooked on stuff that bugs me (ed: no kidding). But this time it is more serious (ed: uh oh). At Burnt Chimney we seem to have a problem with cursing by boys and girls. This may sound corny but some people don't take those into consideration who don't want to hear it. But sometimes the reasons are so DUMB that it's pitiful. Like in a game or something I've noticed people get mad and blow their heads off when it's just a game. Sure I've slipped sometimes probably most everybody has but I don't think I'm that bad. If people would just think before or even after they say something maybe they could break themselves of the habit.

One thing that leaps out from this entry is my concern in letting my teacher know that those "sugar and spice" girls were letting loose with a few choice ones too. After all, they had "come a long way, baby" and nobody was going to deny them their rights to cuss like a guy. This really bugged me, and as you'll see from later entries in forthcoming installments, I had a few opinions on the Women's Liberation Movement and its effects on Ms. Fine's classroom at Burnt Chimney Elementary School in Wirtz, Virginia.

Notice too that I don't let myself off the hook. However, I was probably referring to "minced oaths" such as "heck," "gosh," "dagnabbit" and "shoot" which were the Church of Christ equivalent of living on the edge in those days.

The end result of the Carlin incident was that the Supreme Court upheld the FCC's general guidelines for regulation of certain "dirty words" that couldn't be broadcast during times when children were expected to be awake (6 AM to 10 PM). Of course, this hasn't stopped cable television from ratcheting up both the quantity and quality of profanity at all hours, and even a couple of words on Carlin's list routinely make their way into network primetime broadcasts these days.

Now I'm certainly no prude, and I still slip up every now and then, especially when some ^8+$@# jerk cuts me off on the morning drive to work. But I pretty much stand by the words I wrote in 1974--if only people would think. Unfortunately, there's not a whole lot of that going on these days. Why go to all that trouble when you can just spew forth from the gut all your bile for the world to hear?

I just have one question: where's John Denver when you need him?