Death of the Digital DaVinci

Come with me
And you’ll be
In a world of
Pure imagination
Take a look
And you’ll see
Into your imagination

We’ll begin
With a spin
Traveling in
The world of my creation
What we’ll see
Will defy
Explanation

If you want to view paradise
Simply look around and view it
Anything you want to, do it
Wanna change the world?
There’s nothing
To it

There is no
Life I know
To compare with
Pure imagination
Living there
You’ll be free
If you truly wish to be

If you want to view paradise
Simply look around and view it
Anything you want to, do it
Wanna change the world?
There’s nothing
To it

There is no
Life I know
To compare with
Pure imagination
Living there
You’ll be free
If you truly
Wish to be

Thank You, Steve Jobs
Eternal Peace

Courtesy of

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U$3R N@M3

User names allow the clean slate needed to gain the respect that is elusive in the land of 3D.

User names allow morphing into the very best and the very worst that we’ve never been.

Is that a sin?

User names make you happy,mad,
sad, ferociously bad, then raging with self-grandiose satisfaction, you’re an Internet cad.

Catch me if you can screams the newest me! MaryCa$anova, temptme20, and thugimmortal5EEe.

With insults hurled and gossip spread, there’s never time to worry -never the need to dread.

It hideth me-or so I, you, we’ve been lead to believe.

What’s all the fuss about? How did they know-how can they see?

A small matter, an address of the ip.

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Yes, I Deleted Your Comments

Doesn’t it seem a tad bit disingenuous to proclaim that this is “Jones, My Opinion,” then ask-“what’s yours,” only to delete ALL of the comments made here?

Yes, but so what. 

At the time I felt justified, even a bit empowered by hitting TRASH comments. I wanted to start with a clean slate and indeed that’s exactly what it seems to be now, save for the two comments that I just approved.

What’s the reasoning, the rationale for such comment carnage, such a Savonarola moment of absolute blog participation destruction? Well, at the time I felt like a change in blog formatting. I no longer wanted this to be a blog with comments and so I searched and searched to TURN OFF comments. Queen of the universe that I am, I couldn’t find it. (insert laugh here)

I missed the window of opportunity to return all of the comments to the blog and so rather than immediately stating the obvious, I’ve said ZIP.

At this point, I’m not sure of the direction this blog will take, or even if it will exist tomorrow. In the interest of my “mission statement,” let’s keep the comments rolling for the time being.

We’ve got until October 21, right?

Jones, My Opinion

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I’ll Be Right Back After These Messages

Remember those days of great commercials? I was born in the mid-1970’s and growing up in the ’80’s, I experienced the golden age of tv commercials. This is not my opinion. This has got to be a fact, somewhere.

Our generation may have been the last to actually enjoy playing with toys. Yes, TOYS and not video games.

In the manufacturer’s attempts to sell toys, they waged an awesome campaign of tv commercials, the likes of which have not been seen since. Come on now, remember My Buddy, Kid Sister, Cabbage Patch Kids, Transformers, Jem, Barbie, Legos, G.I. Joe, Thundercats, My Little Pony, Pound Puppies, Rainbow Brite, Care Bears, Strawberry Shortcake, Teddy Ruxpin, and the most fun of all-Mr. and Mrs. Potato Head?

The marketing geniuses of the ’80’s didn’t have the Internet as a medium to push their wares.

TV commercials were big business, and the suits knew exactly how to get sales. They appealed to the kiddies via these colorful and imaginative commercials. More and more of us kiddies were latchkey kids, and I can totally believe that a certain parental remorse accompanied that. As a result, buying things for your kids became indicative for how much you “loved” them.

Get the hell out of my way, I’m getting that Cabbage Patch Kid for my daughter. I promised her she’d get it!  Merry Christmas!

What did we care? We were kids and we loooovvvveeedd those commercials.

Whoever came up with Lite Brite should be inducted into the Hall of Fame of Hypnotism. Really. Making pictures on the wall with multi-colored mini-lights?! What a stroke of genius. Aside from being reminiscent of the movie Pollyanna, where she made pictures on the wall using chandelier crystals catching sunlight, who would think of that being fun?

The Game of Life, Operation, Hungry Hippos, Mousetrap, and other board games would by today’s standards be just that-bored games.

It’s funny how one minute we’re kids waiting on the next commercial and the next we’re adults peeved at the thought of another interruption and solicitation to buy.

Jones, My Opinion

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The Curious Case of the Google “e”

First of all, I would like to begin this post with the declaration that I do not imbibe or indulge in mind-altering chemicals.

That said, this morning, as I viewed my Google homepage, something struck me as very odd. The lettering of the Google logo has a very strange font, to me anyway.

Rather than the classic sans Serif or New Times Roman, this curious slant of the upper portion of the letter seems to be as striking as anything.

It’s almost like the “e” is laughing, as it’s positioned center screen, tilted slightly upwards, awaiting your query.

The other letters don’t jettison out of conformity. It’s only this “e.”

Knowing the science behind a monolith such as Google, there is certainly more than a stylistic reasoning for this.

Again, I hearken back to the font almost making one think of laughter.

Who’s laughing?

Google?

Isn’t Google supposed to be our “friend.”

As you might’ve guessed, I Googled  “the Google “e” ” and found nothing relative to my questioning.

Maybe the “e” is for eye, as in the all-seeing eye of the Internet.

How curious a case…

 

Jones, My Opinion

 

 

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Filed under all seeing eye, Google font, Google humor, Surveillance, symbolism

Ella Ella Ella

No, I’m not referring to the chorus of Rihanna’s song, “Umbrella.”
This is an homage to the Lady herself, Ella Fitzgerald.

  Photo Courtesy: pbs.org

Ella, The First Lady of Song, is-as far as I’m concerned, THE Lady of Song.

Jones, My Opinion

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Filed under American Masters, Dearly Departed, Ella Fitzgerald, Harlem, Jazz, PBS, Swing, Transcending, Virginia

POEtry Inspired by Edgar Allan Poe ((Happy Belated))

Hidden within this wordplay is a play on words.

If you can’t see the answer, then your logic is absurd. That’s right.

Absurd

I hear everything, yet nothing is spoken, not a word.

How much space can time hold; if eternity is the bird,

we all chase, why does it fly away? Her wings span, only to fall from the

sky one day, not money.

Time

is everywhere and nowhere. It’s plentifully scarce and

fleetingly final.

 Or is it?

Ascribe my curiosity to be requisite.

 

Jones, My Opinion

 

Inspired by: Edgar Allan Poe

 

 

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Thank You, MLK! Mr. Blackwood, Not So Much…

This evening my mother suggested that I take a look at an Op-Ed piece in the Atlanta Journal-Constitution entitled, “Raze Dekalb’s education ghetto.”  It’s written by one William Blackwood. Mr. Blackwood is voicing his displeasure at the environment of his school in south DeKalb county, GA, my mother indicated.

Well, upon reading Mr. Blackwood’s “expose,” I would categorize his observations as a scathing indictment on a school system, county, and culture. Conveniently, Mr. Blackwood lets the reader know that his homebase is in the city of Decatur. For those who aren’t aware, the city of Decatur has been regentrified to the point of being a eutopia.

Poor Mr. Blackwood bikes from his lovely Decatur perch to the bowels of south DeKalb Hades. Here is an excerpt of his chronicles:

Disassimilation and disintegration are having a big impact on the high-school population of hyper-segregated south DeKalb county. Many young people from this area will have difficulty acclimating themselves into the mainstream. Many will find it hard to develop and maintain a sense of cohesive belonging within the larger cultural whole. A critical factor in this disturbing sociological dynamic is the public school system itself.

My school employs five assistant principals who make high salaries that, in the private sector, would be inconceivable for comparably educated individuals. Yet, they neither teach classes nor interact significantly with students. They also embody a cumbersome and inconsequential discipline system whose hallmark is the repeated failure to respond effectively to transgressions that, elsewhere, would beget serious action.

The bloated assistant-principal caste characterizes a system that employs more non-teaching personnel than it does teachers. This dysfunctional jobs-creation program is complicit in the invidious perpetuation of the hugely disenfranchising notion that black students are to be taught in a special way.

A teacher is supposed to appeal to “multiple intelligences” in a manner that will produce a “differentiated” classroom. I have been told to do “raps” with students and to appeal to their “kinesthetic intelligence.” Collaborative “group work” is proffered as a means of classroom management and instruction.

While Mr. Blackwood makes some decent points, his delivery is awash in self-glorification. It seems that he seeks to dazzle the reader with such large words as to render them helpless at making up their own mind. Also, what’s his point? Does he seek to improve the current situation or is he just the messenger? There is something terribly wrong with a teacher who feels more comfortable ranting to the AJC rather than taking precise measures within his school system’s guidelines. It’s almost Benedict Arnoldish to me.

Way to go, Mr. Blackwood! For all of your “concern,” you’ve played right into the hands of the malfactors. The tone of your opinion conveyed no empathy or plan of action in terms of making wrongs-right. You simply point fingers and then indicate that you live in Decatur city. As such, it’s not really your problem. That’s the take-away.

On this 25th anniversary of the federal holiday for Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr, one can only marvel at the sense of timing of the AJC posting that Op-Ed piece. It’s almost as if a subliminal barometer fell lower and lower while reading Mr. Blackwood’s opinion.  

Well, thank goodness that Dr. King wasn’t an elitist or someone who whined about helping a people in a great need of help. Although from a middle-class background, Dr. King understood the factors which caused so many African-Americans to fare far lower on the socio-economic strata. He chose to do something, help somebody. In choosing that, he helped all of us.

The scathing indictment offered by Mr. Blackwood is a self-indulgent venting session. As a teacher, he should’ve aired his personal grievances, thoughts, and a plan of action within the system. Especially, since he is currently working there.? What are the students, faculty, and administration to think now?

The problems of south DeKalb county are the problems of the country, which are the problems of the home. There are so many things to address, choosing to atttack by targeting one area is definitely not the answer.

Let’s all do our part by edifying, not destroying…

Jones, My Opinion

Take a look at the ajc.com comment page, taken from Maureen Downey’s “Get Schooled” blog about this topic.

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Political Correctness “Messness”

There is an annual contest at University of New Brunswick calling for the most appropriate definition of a contemporary term. This year’s term was: “Political Correctness”.

The 2010 winner wrote: “Political correctness is a doctrine, fostered by a delusional, illogical minority, and rapidly promoted by an unscrupulous mainstream media, which holds forth the proposition that it is entirely possible to pick up a piece of $hit by the clean end.”

Well said!

Being “politically correct” is the mask that society demands that we all wear in order to get along.

It’s a platitude of conformity that should be the poster child for deceitfulness.

Never mind the thought process or very real consequences of hate and prejudice. Just don’t let anyone know what you’re thinking by staying within the guidelines of OK words.

Schmuck.

Political Correctness is the enemy of honesty and truth. Tell it like it is and let the chips fall where they may.

Jones, My Opinion

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I Remember Margaret…

During the early 1980’s my father was stationed in Amberg, Germany at Pond Barracks.

We lived in military housing that I believe was located on Steubenstrasse, there in Amberg.

Somehow, surely it was through my mother, our family became acquainted and later friends with an older German lady named Margaret.

Margaret lived next-door to our building. To say that she was very nice to us would be a huge understatement.

We visited her often and though her English was about as good as our German, it made little difference. There was a connection that surpassed racial, national, or cultural divisions.

Margaret had told my mother of being a survivor of Auschwitz concentration camp during World War II. In fact, Margaret was there when the Soviet troops liberated the camp on January 27, 1945.

When my mother told me, I was awestruck.

I had already read about Anne Frank and could not grasp that Margaret had seen and survived such horrors as that.

Somehow or another we ended up spending a few days over at Margaret’s house before we left Germany to go Stateside.

I remember Margaret giving us hot milk to put in our Frosted Flakes.

I noticed something. Her story was tattooed on her arm. I asked Margaret about the numbers.

“Auschwitz,” was the reply.

Before we left Germany, I gave my treasured porcelain doll to Margaret as a gift.

Three years later my father once again received orders to Germany, or West Germany as it was then.

We had the opportunity to visit Dachau, also a concentration camp, near Munich.

There are no words to describe the sights at that evil place.

That there was one survivor, let alone any others, is a testament to the power of God.

Wherever Margaret is today, I hope that she knows-

We Remember.

Jones, My Opinion

Read About Holocaust Research Here

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Filed under Amberg, Germany, ARMY brat, Auschwitz, concentration camp survivors, Dachau, Do Something, Family History, Holocaust, Reflections, Societal Ills, Transcending