401 Pork Belly Crude Efficient Market Theories
I’ve often talked about the “three-legged stool” on this blog. No, you don’t have to leave. This post won’t qualify for a certain tag that shall remain nameless. I’m going to keep this post on a higher, more sophisticated plane.
So often, in fact, that I should probably elevate the topic to the level of a category so you can ignore all the posts equally at the same time. But that would be convenient therefore I won’t do it.
The future is something which “occupies” my thoughts from time to time. (Yes, my brain has little protesters in it.)
To refresh your memory, the “three-legged stool” is a metaphor rolled out around the time that piece of sassafras Ida May Fuller clutched her first Social Security benefits check in her kung fu death grip. I remember it well because I was there. On the floor. Licking her ankles. Whispering hotly, “Be my sugar momma? Mommy? M to the O to the M M Y.”
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Old Man Gauntlet
Image Credit: la vaca vegetariana (Flickr)
I guess I should preface this “post” with another one of my famous “laws.”
Tom’s Law #42
It can be difficult to defeat someone who has totally given up and utterly couldn’t give a shit less.
Pithy as always, eh?
And, bonus, I just found a way to work in today’s random song. Writer’s block has been defeated. It turns out there will be a post today. I win. You lose. Click the jump to suffer further.
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Oh Willard! Where Art Thou?
Age of presidents when assuming office approximately follows a bell curve (mean age marked by red line). Source: Wikipedia
Psst. Don’t tell anyone, but I know a little something the Mitt Romney campaign doesn’t want a lot of people to know. And, unlike them, I have no scruples about sharing it.
The cat is old.
I don’t mean “old” in the sense that it’s time for the rockin’ chair. I mean “old” in presidential terms.
Willard Mitt Romney was born March 12, 1947. He’s 65 years old.
Look at the clues. Fact #1: His name is Willard. Normally at this point I’d say, “I rest my case.” But I want to blather on for a bit more.
Exclusive: Abyss scientists have calculated that the first name “Willard” ranked 124.8 in popularity in the United States during the years 1880 through 1946. Mitt’s parents, by selecting the name Willard, simply went along with a trend of the times.
Since Mitt was born, however, the name has taken a beating. The first name “Willard” has dropped in popularity to a whopping rank of 491.2. (Based on years 1947 through 1989, the last year for which data is available.)
No wonder he goes by the name Mitt. He single-handedly made the name uncool. (See below for the graph I made. The higher the bar, the less popular the ranking of the name.)
Keep reading for much much more exclusive presidential election coverage from the Abyss. Did I mention this coverage is exclusive? No one else would think up shit like this.
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What if an indigenous peoples’ tribe behaved like our modern world?
“Hey there. How do you do? My name is John.”
“Pleased to meet you. I’m Tom.”
“Hi ho, Tommy Boy.”
“Actually, if you don’t mind, I prefer Tom.”
“Whatever you say, Tommy Boy.”
Need we hear much more to identify the asshole here? Fuck political correctness, what the hell do you call a person who won’t bend in the slightest to respect the feelings of another person?
“It’s a free country, pal! This political correctness is killing us. I can call you whatever I want. Ever hear of a little thing called Freedom of Speech? What are you going to do about it?”
“Sure. Ever hear of a little thing called You’re Puss-Filled Leaking Douchebag?”
So yeah. If I can, and it’s no skin off my nose, I’ll make a little extra effort to respect the wishes and feelings of others. That, in and of itself, makes me an utter alien on this planet. By now we all know how much I like to be different.
Thus begins a new meme here in the Abyss. I hope you will like it. I’m calling it: “What if an indigenous peoples’ tribe was like our modern world?”
I know. That’s a l-o-n-g name. And also, why the over-the-top political correctness here?
We all know it’s rude to refer to Native Americans as “Indians.” Hell, thanks to Freshly Pressed, I recently learned that someone from the actual country of India didn’t like the term, either.
I also dismissed the term “Native American” because that had specificity to the United States. I wanted it a little more generic than that. So we’re going to go with “Indigenous Peoples.”
I’m just trying to be respectful and word the question in the right way.
So let’s now try to answer that question: What if an indigenous peoples’ tribe was like our modern world?
—
We came across the tribe and saw something extraordinary. It was rather ordinary except for one man. This man was singled out for opulent riches. He was surrounded by women who fawned over him, fanning him as he relaxed, and occasionally feeding him pieces of fruit. He was adorned with more gold than anyone else in the village. But he wasn’t the Chief. He wasn’t an Elder. As far as we could tell, he wasn’t a leader or special in any obvious way.
We asked one of the people, “What is special about that rich man, there?”
“That’s our forecaster. He is, by far, the best guesser of the future prices of pork bellies. He’s amazingly accurate.”
—
We happened to overhear a conversation between a sick man and the village healer. The healer spoke.
“I see you have no health insurance. However, I will save your life. In return, you must promise to to bring to me everything you kill, gather or make for the next year.”
—
After several weeks of observation, we noticed one young man. He did not hunt. He did not gather. He did not make things. He apparently did absolutely nothing of value to the tribe.
And yet this man was highly respected by the men. And women wanted to have sex with him.
He did not work and people brought him all the food he could eat. They made clothes and things for him. They maintained his home. Everyone sacrificed so the man could prosper.
Then a day came where all the people of the village assembled. Some of the men went to the field while others watched. The popular young man was among them.
They began to play a game while the reminder of the tribe watched.
It turns out that the young man was the very best at hitting a little ball with a stick.
—
Can you think of any others?
From the Abyss Dev Team: The Pre-Gen Taser
How many times has this happened to you?
– You’re at the grocery store checking our with your groceries when an elderly person starts a conversation with your checker and suddenly you’re standing there bored and ignored
– An elderly person rams your car when parking and when confronted merely shrugs, never apologizes and walks away
– After waiting patiently in line at the restaurant to pay the check an elderly man walks up and sticks his ticket in the face of an employee who takes care of him first
Frustrating? Hells yes. Like a helpless idiot you take it each and every time. And there’s nothing you can do about it, right?
Well now you can!
Introducing the new AbyssCo Pre-Gen Taser – specially calibrated and balanced to meet the unique needs of the geriatric set. This little device works just like its big brother, but is perfectly suited for use on the generation that came before you.
The Pre-Gen Taser is not available in stores and comes with our lifetime guarantee that it won’t interfere with pacemakers, won’t fry hearing aids and prevents the embarrassment of dentures being ejected. All this with the peace of mind that you’ll be long gone by the time your target regains his wits.
How It Works
Our patented Pre-Gen Probes are softer and have been specially designed to protect elderly targets and deliver a debilitating shock that is perfectly age-adjusted for needs of elderly miscreants. And an oscillating energy pulse is used to bring your target down slowly which helps prevent unsightly hip injuries.
With the optional Medi-Alert addon pak (sold separately) the Pre-Gen Taser will provide the added service of checking your target’s pulse, blood pressure, and medications – and automatically alert the nearest hospital if your target has any conditions that existed prior to the tasing. You’ll be solving an annoying problem and help save lives – all at the same time. Here at AbyssCo we call that a win-win!
Next time it happens, and it will, you’ll be ready. Pull out your Pre-Gen Taser, back away from your target a few paces (to protect yourself from released fluids), point and shoot! It’s just that easy!
Pre-order yours today and take charge* of your personal power* in the future!
* Pun intended.
Wheat the Thin People
I think the progression of human civilization has gone a little something like this:
Stone Age ~ Copper Age ~ Bronze Age ~ Iron Age ~ Industrial Revolution ~ Atomic Age ~ Space Age ~ Information Age
But what comes after the Information Age?
I think I have figured that out. It’s the pinnacle of human achievement, at least until the Nano Age gets here.
I’m talking about, of course, the Wheat Thins Age.
Once a civilization has achieved a sufficient number of varieties of Wheat Thins, then you know they really got their shit going on. Oh, snap!
There isn’t a precise science to calculating when the Wheat Thins Age has been reached, but I think it’s about ten. Let’s see how many we can find. Continue reading →
Shouts from the Abyss 
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