Brochure

j-r-practix-with-border-2

Brochure: (n) a small book or magazine containing information or pictures about a product or service.

Dino-words.

These are words which are extinct from the lexicon because they’ve been replaced by other terms and inventions, rendering them useless to the common man or woman.Dictionary B

Two that quickly come to my mind are “tri-fold” and “rubber cement.”

Come listen, my children, and you will hear…

Of what it was like to advertise in fear.

What were we afraid of? Putting together a tri-fold brochure that needed to be typed or, God forbid, type-set, and then cut out and rubber cemented in perfect symmetry onto panels, hoping that when it was shot with a printer’s camera, it would look somewhat like what you originally envisioned.

It was so easy to get things crooked.

The rubber cement was so messy.

And once you glued something down twice, to pull it up and glue it again created wrinkles, bumps and missing pieces of black ink from the letters.

Printers would encourage you by saying, “It’s nearly as good as the original…”

The idea of digital, which allows you to duplicate the original in perfection, was decades in the future, as you took your tiny knife and trimmed the paper down to just the right size, hoping that the corners you glued would not print off shadows. Of course, to achieve that, you had to make sure you didn’t shoot it too dark–or your original layout of printing would appear as a box instead of just words.

The brochure seemed necessary. It was a way of communicating that you were a prosperous organization which had the time and money to put together a pamphlet which explained who you were and therefore gave you credibility.

Now such a simple little task can be achieved in five or ten minutes on a computer and zonked out through your printer–with machines that will even fold it for you.

Progress is a beautiful thing–as long as you remember what you did before progress, and never lose the childlike sense of appreciation for being freed from monotony and meticulous, meaningless maneuvers.

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Ballpoint Pen

Ballpoint pen: (n) a pen with a tiny ball as its writing point.Dictionary B

In the pursuit of proving my maturity by adequately sprouting a jaded attitude, I must stop off and admit that many things in life get better.

Once we survive the tenuous nature of invention, the comical attempts at prototypes and the initial product being launched into a market, needing in no time to become “new and improved,” we still often end up with many things that thrust us forward to progress humanity.

This illustrious beginning is presented to you from my wacky consciousness to discuss the ballpoint pen.

I was around when this creature emerged from the deep lagoon of office supplies.

My first memory was the Bic.

It came in a package of 7 or 8.000 (I exaggerate). It was a thin, clear tube with a pen stuck inside, a black stopper on the bottom and a plastic cap on top.

These pens were notorious for writing for about 15 minutes and then either leaking at the tip or ceasing to perform the function, while simultaneously taunting you with visible ink which refused, for some reason or another, to come out–like a spoiled teenager stuck in a room.

One of my friends had the brilliant idea that these cheap pens could be brought back to life by placing the tip underneath a match, thus reopening the surface for use.

It actually worked. I should say–it worked if you were patient and didn’t overheat the pen.

Because I was not so patient, I began to have a bizarre collection of Bic pens around my house in various stages of 1st-. 2nd- and 3rd- degree burns. Some were even melted beyond recognition.

They were cheap enough that you could just go out and buy more–but for some reason I had this sinister desire to scorch them. My friend who made the original suggestion did very well at just barely touching the tip with the flame, to re-engage penning.efforts.

I always went too far.

So I can truthfully say that in my lifetime, ballpoint pens have improved–except for the fact that the last time I used one, it opened up and the ink leaked all over my hands and made me look like a criminal … who had just been fingerprinted.

 

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Acetabulum

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

Acetabulum: (n.)  the socket of the hipbone, into which the head of the femur fits. SPECIAL USAGE: any cup-shaped structure, espcially a sucker.

Skeletons freak me out.

I think I talked about this a few days ago–the idea that we have an “inside” to our “outside” often leaves me beside myself.

Especially when you realize how we’re constructed both in a practical–but also in a weird way. This is never so true as when you look at that socket for the hip–the way it kind of rolls around in there, appearing to have absolutely no practical way to function.

So when I get in a room with a person advocating the theory of evolution over anything else, and an individual who insists on a literal interpretation of the Genesis creation story, I am baffled at how both of them fail to recognize how “fearfully and wonderfully” the human being is made.

I don’t care if there were billions of years of evolution–there is NO way that a single cell could EVER become a hip bone.

I‘m sorry. It’s impossible.

Somewhere along the line, there were LEAPS. What caused those leaps? I know that scientists have their own rendition of the mutations and interventions of nature, which may have instigated such spannings of the chasm. But honestly, when I look at an acetabulum and how it functions–how it rolls and how it’s supposed to last for a LONG time–I am massively in awe.

I guess I am one of those freaks who just believes that it’s ALL true. My concept of God is that He is kind of like a tourist visiting New York City for the first time. He literally wears Himself out, running from one site to another, enjoying every single moment of the vacation, refusing to miss any possible hallmark of the experience.

I think God likes to do it all. I think God tinkered with the amoeba and I think God messed with people. I think He enjoys perfecting things instead of pursuing the perfect.

So when I look at that hip-joint (which I don’t like to do for very long, by the way) I am convinced that there is more that went into that particular invention than we could ever imagine on this earthly plane. In other words, it took the best of evolution, it took the best of intelligent design, it took the best of mutation and it took the best of creation.

The mistake that most people make with God is that they feel empowered by discovering who He is or who He isn’t, and then they box Him up.

There IS no box for God. The minute we tell Him that He can’t do something, He’s already done it. And the minute we’re convinced that He does not exist in any way, shape or form, He goes ahead and finds a form … to shape our way.