Attempt at coherence (an attempt to explain stupidity tax)

Okay, so I spent all day yesterday pontificating on pure drivel. While I do not expect to improve upon that record today, I do have a specific item I would like to get out. I had hoped that I could focus enough yesterday to get everything out of my system, but it did not work out so well. The problem is twofold. One, this particular area is for releasing brain steam as it were. Basically stream of consciousness writing to let out the pressure in my brain. Which is fine and dandy. Except that because I deem it so, I allow myself free rein, and have trained myself to pretty much not accept restrictions here. There is one exception to that rule. In fact, there is only one particular rule I have here. Avoid contractions at all costs. I know that seems like a strange rule. And with good reason, it is one. I am American, and pretty much obviously speak and type it comfortably. So what is wrong with contractions? I am certain somebody out there is asking. (although again I claim that I only have two readers, one of home (the child) only reads when she is forced to, which isn't as often as you would think. It should be at least that often, but I have a weakness where my child is concerned. I am overprotective on the one hand, and I am over indulgent on the other hand. Admittedly it balances out, because the overprotection keeps me fairly strict, but the over indulgence gives her a bit of freedom. So basically I view it as a wash. I am probably wrong, but I am not objective, and do not have to be, after all I am a parent, and one of the job requirements is subjectivity. Although....) see I have to stop here. There is much more I could type on this topic, and pretty much any topic that stemmed from it, but I am attempting to feign coherence here, so I have to catch distractions when I recognize them (such as now, although a few lines too late.) and stomp them into submission, so that I can get out my specific point that I want to get out and have been trying for the past two days. I wonder if it is mere scatter brainedness. (I don't think brainedness is a word, and even if it is, I doubt it would be recognized by spell checker, but I am going to leave it in, because I like it, and I can do what I like......) see another distraction. Anyhow where was I? Distracted, and streaming my consciousness time to seriously switch gears.

WRENCH!!!!!

Okay I want to talk about taxes. I tried yesterday to talk about them, hence the title Tax season. I know that generally my titles are just a jumping off point which have little to no bearing on the subject matter of a days particular posting. But yesterday I had a purpose, and it was the the current tax season I find myself in. I know, I know everybody thinks tax season ends on April 15th. And you are right for the obvious taxes. I, however, am talking about a special tax the government discovered, but has not taken full advantage of yet. Specifically I call it the stupidity tax. In which we the citizens of this glorious democratic republic are pretty much taxed on how much stupidity we take up. It is actually a year round tax payable in installments, employed by state governments. The federal government has not officially gotten in on the scam yet, which surprises me because it is very brilliant and easy. There are collations of states involved in the tax that cause it to appear federal, but it is pretty much (so far) a state tax. Completely lost my train of thought. I was plotting out a term paper like setting, and figured out where I wanted to be 2 paragraphs from now, and forgot how to get there. (that sentence was another diversion, but small so I will let it slide, and ease back on track.)

I should first off explain what a stupidity tax is, and how it works. Later I will go into alternate uses, why it works, how it affects some people, and some variations that could be employed. (not necessarily in that order, and that is only a plan, there is no guarantee that I do not get distracted, or do not get bored with this and stop typing. Still, I am no longer in school, so I can pretty much write my papers as I like and the consequences will not go on my permanent record. They will enter into the opinions of the people who read my postings, however because I am secure in the knowledge that they are solely my wife and child. (because pretty much everyone else who may have tried to follow my thought patterns gave up after the first couple of posts) and they have been living with me and my brain for more than 10 years apiece, I am fairly certain that my readership will understand and not complain if I do not reach my lofty goal for reasons of brain trouble.)) wow this has taken enough space to merit it's own paragraph. Bummer. heheheheh one word sentence. Distractions seem to be coming pretty thick now, I wonder sometimes if it has to do with fear of success and personality disorders. But then I stop caring. Time for another re-adjustment to get back on track. But first let me explain my attempt (which I am fairly sure I have failed at in this particular posting) to avoid contractions. It is not so much...Wait I used this distraction before...Except that I did not fully explain it, before another distraction. So let me try again. It has nothing to do with grammar. I avoid contractions because I only read what I have written after running it through the google translator page. I translate it into a language (generally several, although only one at a time) and then back into English. Because I have a vague idea what I wrote, and it is very entertaining to see how it turns out after being translated twice. Usually it is very difficult to follow, and in some of the more difficult to write languages (specifically Korean, and Chinese (Japanese also, but I rarely use that one because I like to randomly pick my languages and get bored with translating before I get to Japanese due to limited options. They should really add stuff like Icelandic, and Canadian, and other such languages. (I would truly love to see translating from English to English. (American English to British English and vice versa)))) wow that is a parenthetical record for me I think. Anyway time for another one.

WRENCH!!

Okay stupidity tax. Basically it is year round, and somewhat seasonal. Meaning it varies. But the variety is person to person to family to group. Based on the prevailing....This font looks funny hang on a second. Sorry minor distraction. Still not better let me try something else.

Basically it has to do with how you perceive odds. Okay enough obfuscation. I am pretty much talking about the lottery. Specifically the powerball lotto. (although many states (and even countries) have their own versions.)

basically he stupidity tax charges you on how much stupidity you use. It is measured by the size of the jackpot. Currently the powerball jackpot is at 155 million. Which is enough to kick in my stupidity enough to pay into my stupidity tax. Different people have different levels and different payment structures. I work with a person who pays huge amounts of stupidity tax. Enough that she actually needs help from her co-workers to get all of it paid. Basically it works like this. There are...53 white balls, and 42 red balls in the powerball lottery. It is drawn twice a weak for 5 white balls, and one red ball. for a total of 14,463,212,400 combinations. So basically what that means is that to get a 1% chance of selecting the right combination you have to have 144,632,124 different numbers. (if I am doing my math right, feel free to correct me anybody, although since Ellen has lost her probability book, and Malika is in Jr. High I doubt anyone will bother.) Now most people who can amass enough money to buy that many tickets are smart enough to invest it in a more secure format, they are fairly exempt from the stupidity tax. it is late, saving as draft will finish later.

Well on second thought and looking at my schedule it looks like I won't be finishing it today. oh well, got most of it out of the brain anyway, and that is the important part. Yet there is so much more to say about stupidity tax. IT is a sad thing. At least I recognize I pay it. I know a person, who pays upwards of $40 in collective stupidity tax a week. Powerball, megabucks, scratch off tickets. Not to mention grouping people at work to pay a larger portion of stupidity tax. Then buying more on her own just in case. The problem is she does not relate all of them together. She tries to get me to help pay her stupidity tax. "come on...it's only $5 you don't smoke any more you can afford it." yet when she does not get a refund. (because it generally doesn't pay back enough to cover the initial tax) she does it all again, sometimes upping the amount. But it is all (to her) individual payments, and she does not realize the huge cost of stupidity tax she is paying.

I know people say, "it is not just the jackpot. I would be happy with any of the other (implied over $1000) prizes". Which I am certain they think they are sincere. Yet, they do not pay their stupidity tax every week for the lesser prizes. They wait to pay it until the jackpot is high enough to trigger their stupidity usage. (which varies per people) admittedly there are those who pay their stupidity tax every week, because they are certain sooner or later they will get a huge refund. (which shows why they owe so much stupidity tax.)

On the whole, even though I am affected by it. I support the stupidity tax. It does help pay for some government programs. Like treating gambling addiction. And improving parks so they can charge people more to use them. I believe the government uses the majority of the stupidity....hey I wonder if people in the government can win the lottery. I do not' think it's officially a government agency kind of like the post office. But I do wonder if those affiliated, or related to politicians are excluded kind of like the McDonald's monopoly game. I think it should be expanded. Take advantage of all the stupidity floating around. For example people who fall for the credit card commercials. "there is more to life than money" go out and charge up and get into debt and be harassed. (not what they said, but the result if you follow their advice. Either that or wind up old and broke and dying in a gutter. (a bit of hyperbole but it makes my point)) There should be an extra sure-charge for the government for people who use those credit cards. In fact anybody who uses a credit card with over 12% interest rates. (being generous here) why should the credit card companies be the only people to profit on stupidity. Let the schools have some of the stupid money so that we can educate people, so they can avoid paying the stupidity tax. Anyway I said I wasn't going to explain it all, so I am stopping here.

TAX SEASON!!!

Rabbit Season, Tax Season, Duck Season, FIRE.


Sorry. That has nothing to do with what I really wanted to say, but it flashed through my brain, so I decided to type it. The nice thing about doing stream of consciousness writing is never having to edit, or delete, or even be aware of what you are going to type before you type it. I traditionally just randomly pick a title, so that I can just start typing. Otherwise I will never start, and where is the fun in that. It only becomes frustrating when I want to have something to say. Actually what I intended to write in that sentence was "when I have something I think that I would like to say". For example, Today while I was driving to work, I thought about stupidity tax. So naturally having thought about it, and being impressed with the particular thoughts I thought, I wished to share them with the world. Or at least the two people (my spouse and my child) who occasionally peruse this particular spin-off of my brain. I say two people, because they are the only people I am aware of who know of this particular corner of the internet. I am certain that others have come across it. But I find it difficult to imagine them spending much time trying to make sense of what is spewed here. It being, after all, mostly a brain dumping ground. So, this brings up two questions. The first is, why do I not just tell the wife and child my particular brain droppings and not type them up here. I am not positive that I have a rational answer for that question. Basically, I like to write, and I enjoy typing. I have horrendous handwriting. So why not just blog and not worry about it.

The second question being, how come you are doing this when you should be working? That answer is pretty simple. I no longer have time to blog at home. I have upgraded my home computer, and am now able to run all the fantastic games I have been unable to play for the past 4 years or more years. So I am excessively busy catching up on games, and no longer have time to type at home. So my productivity suffers. The sad part about that is I am still probably the most productive person at my place of employment. That is not so much blowing my own horn (as it were) as merely denigrating my co-workers. Sadly, however, it is also true. The other advantage to typing at work is that I do not have to do it all in one setting. I can type a little bit, then accomplish some actual work, and come back and type some more, and nobody is the wiser. That is the advantage of stream of consciousness writing. IT is difficult to tell if I am changing subjects because I forgot what I was going to say, or if I am merely following the thought that was created from whatever thought came before it.

Which still leads us to the tax season issue. Maybe not directly, in fact it might not lead there at all. But I am heading there anyway, because that is where I truly would like to be so I can get that particular rant out of my brain before it becomes a huge problem. Kind of like a song stuck in the head that keeps autolooping around. The thing about those songs that I wonder about, is how come it is never the whole stinking song? More often than not just one line, or one chorus goes through the brain over and over. Unless it is an incredibly short song such as "minimum wage" by the best band in the universe They might Be Giants In which case, well the whole song easily fits on the continuous loop cycle. It truly causes wonder as to how limited the storage space in the brain really and truly is. Or, perhaps it validates the whole 1 tenth of the brain usage theory. Think about it, human beings are supposed to have such advanced brains, and yet we do not even have the capability to have an entire song run through our brains. Either there is limited space, or we do not live up to our potential. Songs are not that long. Sure there is plenty of long term storage, and even short term. If we chose, we could probably remember the entire song. If only 1 line at a time while we are singing it. But when it circles in the brain, there is only so much space before it loops back to the start of whatever section is running. I really do wonder why that is. But enough idle speculation. There are more serious matters to attend to.

What really is important though? I am sure that economies and politics and war and pestilence and famine and education and freeways and endangered species and biology and chemistry and physics and astronomy and astral physics and literature and poetry and theology and geology and microbiology and engineering and genetic strands and stem cells and civil rights and proper attire for proper situations and proper nutrition and adequate shelter and appropriate climate for comfort level and the level of toxicity the bites of various species and the lyrics to many songs and global warming and overpopulation and salinity and the dangers of hypothermia and how microclimates effect farm industry and the federal interest rate and medical technology and a properly trained military and border control and speed limit laws and the death of Richard Nixon and the life of John Lennon and the methane output of cows and the freedom of the seas and oil production levels and the respecting the sovereign rights of nations and the death of the spotted owl and appropriate work ethics and the lessons of history all, are all more important. Well perhaps the cow issues are not quite so important. I had said "more serious" matters though, not more important matters. And while those issues (again saving the cows) all have high import. I am not certain that each and every one has a particular high seriousness rating.

So what is more serious. Well a funeral is fairly serious. Actually not serious so much as grave. ha ha ha ha ha. Okay, so the discounts the funerals from the more serious category. And when I was a youngster, my father would always use the phrase "serious as a heart attack." Although to be honest, it really could not have been always. Because there are many situations where it would not be appropriate. On the other hand, appropriateness to phraseology was not necessarily important to my father in every circumstance. So perhaps he might have uttered the phrase out of context. Well no if he used it, it was always in some context, because life is context. There is no help for it. Until you remove the life factor everything does exist in some form of context. So shall I say he may have uttered it inappropriately. The other thing is that he (my father) knowing it was a cliche, would emphasize it to the point of ludicrousness. Which had the effect of making me laugh. So I no longer consider heart attacks very serious. And all of the important topics in the preceding paragraph, I used in a sort of tongue in cheek manner. So I no longer can lump them into the serious category which seriously diminishes the serious opportunities. Especially if I include all sub-categories to the main categories listed as important. So now I have to figure out what is serious. I think the problem is that things are not serious. They just are. Events are not serious. They just are. Stuff just exists. I think it is people that are serious. Not necessarily all people, but I feel pretty confident and safe in saying that serious people are generally serious. Lighthearted people are not so serious. And it is the seriousness of people that impart seriousness on a particular event, or object. Therefore if I were to move on to a more serious topic, it would have to be people. But not just any people, or people in general, it would have to be serious people. Or a serious person. Which is a drawback, because I do not have intimate enough knowledge of most people to determine how serious they are. In fact I have very few to zero friends. But I have a wife and child, and they have friends, so I can have vicarious friendships, which is more than enough for me until I finish a few computer games. So I no longer feel qualified to discuss more serious issues. End of story. There is no talking me out of it. Once I decide I am not going to do something, or am not qualified to do something, I just do not do it until I change my mind, or forget I made the decision. Who knows how long that could take? Well everybody knows how long it could take. After all it could take one year, or two, or three, or four, or five, or six, or seven, or eight, or nine, or ten, or eleven, or more. It could take half an hour. It could take 3 halves of an hour. It could actually take any amount of time. The more precise question would be who knows how long it will take. The answer to that is probably nobody, because the mind works in mysterious ways, and if it has difficulties in looping an entire song endlessly, how long can it retain a spur of the moment decision made by the whims of capriciousness. Your guess is probably as good, or better than mine.

Which brings me to my main point. Except I have typed too much today, so I think I will forgo the main point for now, and attempt it again at a later date. Or later on this date if I am note enjoying my computer games.

sattelite reception

An example of the type of thing that doesn't make it up here.


Obsessions are a facinating thing. I have a new one myself, otherwise, it wouldn't be so obvious a start for this particular topic. Although to be honest, it's not as if my particular obsession breaths volumes over the obsessions of people in general. i mean to be honest, generals have more important things to do than deal with the concerns of real people. they have wars to plan, and bombs to drop, and parties to attend. admitedly some have much more serious tasks, but they are never actually made generals Well not the ones we as a country admit to. As a country we have to perceive a certain threat level, and then mobilization to protect civilians befor we can counter attack. Isn't this a bit too much like the movies? I mean, here is President "current" relaxing in the jet, idely contemplating the signifacance of his olive rather than lime. and how it might affect his enjoyment of the evening. In comes the staff persons wife throwing herself at the diligent digniatary. (at this point, I start to shift focus, never mind.) anyway. interagation pursues, newsweek get's ahold of it, boom national interest. why, because none of the other celebraties peak our interest. To be honest, I bet every single politician in the united states (and provinces) are so jealous of President bush. I mean the guy has to be a genious to have side stepped so many issues. Sudenly the opposition realized that the cheese doesn't add up, and the birds are singing marches. It was close up shop timne. But not soon enough to restore personal dignity. not that it matters. it's all about the trump. i will admit he has finally been force into hiring a woman. But if you couldn't tell from the previous shows, and the way he went out of his way to create a negatvie environment in season 2. Then invited people to play pinyata on the virgin sacr9ifice of our national pride.,.... and then I don't know or care what color it was somme freak eventually called all of us out....would have loved to keep the lizzies sane, but too much has changed too slowly. not saying there is no chance.... but play the odds and come with a grand. that would be a good advertisements if they offered their loot to the lightsides. I know enough to ignore and drop after identifiy. Tells me enough that I don't have to scratch of cellery. it's all cool watch me, there is nasty traffic. I'm gonna upgrade from car to bus on i-5 for once. just don't worry about me and be safe, eventually you will be able to turn.

Wrote this on may 14th. 2005. It's an example of the kind of stuff I don't keep. When I'm writing. I mostly am using it to add something. But I changed my mind because it kind of stands on it's own. But I posted already today, so Maybe I will give everybody a chance to admire it tomorrow. Or I will continue to save it as a draft until the best of comes out. Then I will throw it in as a "deleted scene"

Pizza and Beer

If at first you don't succeed.....
It depends on the situation. In some cases you have to start over from scratch. In other cases you can start from the beginning of the level. In some cases you just don't succeed. In some cases you don't actually fail. It all depends on where you are, what you are doing, and why you are doing it. There is never a pat response. The whole try, try again theory just doesn't always play out. There are way too many variables. But life is all about the variables anyway. It's the little variations that make up the mosaic of experience that is life. No single day is ever the same as any others. There are many similarities, hence the seasons. (which is what thyme is all about) kind of a bad pun. Seasons and seasoning and time and thyme. But bad puns are some of the best puns. In fact the pun is neither good nor bad. A pun is like the air. It just is. You breath it in, it keeps you alive. Sometimes it's fresh and sweet like a little baby, sometimes it's stale and rancid like a the same little baby after a week without changing clothes, or diapers. The air is the same, it is the contents and the perception of those contents that change. For example, garbage dumps. Like them or not, they have their own unique essence. While most people I know find the whole atmosphere unpleasant, and possibly offensive. There are those who view it differently. Admittedly, most of those are seagulls, lawyers, and other vermin. But nonetheless, they do exist. And, landfills, after being filled, and covered, and forgotten about are not completely unpleasant. Walking on a grassy hillside, unaware that it is composed mostly of unwanted junk, can almost be romantic. So the pun is there for us to breath, to experience, to hanglide in, to parachute through. It keeps birds aloft, and allows kites to get tangled into power lines. It's a friend, and foe. The zephyr, and the Tornado. A powerful thing that if harnessed correctly could power all the television sets in mollalla.Be kind to your puns, treat them right, after all the pun you save may be your own.
I almost want to say that the wordplay that began that trail of nonsense might not be considered a pun. Well by some anyway. But I figure there is no reason to say that. Call it a pun, call it a typo. It doesn't matter, it gave me a direction, allowed me to get some more chaos out of my brain. It made me happy, and in this crazy mixed up world, what more can we ask from our wordplay?

Secrets

There used to be a way to eat sandwiches in the car without people looking at you while you were driving down the freeway. I am unable to currently recall the method for accomplishing this, but I am certain that it existed. Or, perhaps, I am just making it up. Or perhaps it was available when I was much too young to drive. It really makes little difference, because it is no longer necessary. The way people drive nowadays....is nowadays really a word? Or should it be a phrase? Now a Days. Sounds funny. I am fairly confidant that it is a colloquialism of some sort, and will not be found in a dictionary. although it might be. I like the word though. It kind of rolls off the brain like bacon grease down a pasta noodle. Some words would make good food I think. Not just Orange, although I will wager that eight out of every 10 people first think of orange when you mention it. Because it is a word that is also a food. Now there are many words that are foods, for example, eggs, chocolate, llama, hollistic actually is not one, but watermelon is. All of those words are also food. They are names of food, but names are words too. And name is also a word. But...Orange while a name of a food, is also a name of a word, so it does double duty, and more people would think of orange as a word that would be a food before they would think of Cheese, even though they both by the naming standard have equal merit. After all they have the same number of letters, and what could be more equal than that? (other than splenda?) But what about the other words those are the ones that I am thinking of. When somebody says they may have to "eat their words" what words would be tasty? Which words can you really sink your teeth into?

Obviously some words immediatly spring to mind. For example Bipartisan. While the definition is somewhat lackluster, and it is being hogged by pretensious know-it-alls, rather than being free for the common consumption. But ignoring the definition. Taking the words just by its sylabic merits. Roll it around in the mouth. Feel the texture, and inhale the bouquette. (which probably would have been better before we rolled it around, because nobody like saliva dripping over their bouquette....except maybe cows, but they seem to like Saliva dripping all over everything. Otherwise, they wouldn't keep bringing it back through the system. Well they might, but then we would all think they belonged to some kind of cult, and I personally prefer to imagine they enjoy the saliva and other gastric juices.) Which makes me wonder how they make artificial saliva. We dispense it occasionally, and I picture the production being interesting to the observer. (if only for 2 minutes or less) but kind of dry for the producers. Especially because my first picture is of a guy sitting on a bench spitting into a bottle. On the other hand, the other picture I know have is a guy holding a bottle under a cows mouth. Neither one of them seem to be the way I would prefer to make a living, but on the other hand, the pay would have to be pretty good. (because otherwise people would count sand for a living) and there would not be onerous responsibilities involved. So maybe it's not so bad. Again the spitting into the bottle would be pretty difficult, and would require a water stipend. But still, there are much worse ways to earn keep. Then again, if those were the production methods, then the labeling would be false. Because the bottle plainly say artificial saliva. (course maybe artificial is the spitters name. I had not thought of that option.) So the next question is what would the preferred ingredients for artificial saliva be? Water would probably be the base, but it is kind of runny for saliva. which is runny, but it's also oozy at the same time. Now that is a gourmet word. Ooozy. Although I think more of a salad course, than a main meal. It just has a certain piquant quality that I can imagine beeing served in higher end word establishments.
So we start with a base of water. And while the natural next ingrediant everyone is clamoring for would be anise, I am not going to include it in this recipe, because if I have learned anything in this life, it is that anything worth doing is worth making as difficult as possible. No if we are going to avoid easy saliva the next thing we need to add is definately cumin. Top it off with a dolop of tabasco sause. Bring to a boil, reduce. Add some chocolate syrup, and bang bobs your uncle. Because my uncles name was daniel.

Crock pot the bane of my wifes existance

They are a whole bunch of big, fat, huge, stinky, cheese headed, pigeon toed, horned, lying, liars. They fill the world with putrescent untruths that would kill several small baby robins in one blow without even slowing down to check the tires. They lie like a barracks room bathmat. They lie like my dog. They lie like a whole bunch of big, fat, huge, stinky, cheese headed, pigeon toed, horned, lying, liars. The only way they could tell the truth is if it did not apply to the situation at hand. All they do every day twenty-four hours a day, 365 days a year, ten years a decade, ten decades a century is LIE. They lie like there is no tomorrow, in fact if you asked them if there were going to be a tomorrow they would tell you "no". Unless of course, they had incontrovertible proof that the world would in fact end tomorrow. Then they would probably just say "maybe". And that is the key to their filthy stinking fish licking lying ways. They don't tell the blatent out and out obviously night is day type of lies. Oh-no. they tell you lies that you would like to believe. Pleasant, little lies that make you trip along through life "tra-la-la" until WHAMMO. splat smack the enormity of the truth trout-smacks you right upside the left ear, making you spin in a circle, and do a deranged version of the macarena while you see little dots and poodles bouncing around in your field of vision. Which on the whole are vastly crueler lies than simply telling somebody the opposite of the truth. This is what makes them such filthy despicable worthless wastes of oxygen.
On a completely, totally, and one hundred thrity-six point four percent unrelated topic. Today begins the tenth day of non-smoking. And, for the past 9 and a half consecutive days (Counting weekends, because I do know where they live) my co-workers have remained completely and one hundred percent alive. To be fair a few of them (no more than 7) actually only appear to be maybe 85 percent alive. But they have appeard so for years before the cigarette free days. Although I must say that they are having less fortuitous circumstances in the Sims environment. There they burn to death every night. Sometimes 2 or 3 times a night. Video games have got to be one of the best (or most appreciated) tools in the smoking quitters arsenal. They have everything. Violence, fire, violence, blood, fire, violence, mayhem, chaos, violence, blood, fire, violence. Everything a smoker craves, except the nicotine. Which is provided by a little square piece of gum which is not even close to the same as smoking at all no matter what some filthy pig intestine eating toad of a lying liar may tell you.
Another thing such a person (although I think person is too kind for the gutter dwelling vermin who spew such wicked and cruel lies into the universe) might be inclined to say is, "The first seventy-two hours are the hardest." That has got to be one of the most massive, smelly, rodent ridden, hairy, toe-jam licking, monstrous lie in the history of mankind. (well other than that one about women being equal.) The first seventy-two hours are a piece of cake compaired to the second week. Physically the difference between the first seventy-two hours, and the middle of the second week are miniscule. At least from inside the body. I am certain that objective observers who have little regard for truth, honesty, decency, and superman would tell you that there are measurable differences to heart rate, and respiration, and trivial stuff that has no real effect on how your brain is telling you you are feeling. None of that matters. THe quitter still has the pressure, and the desire, and the irritablility. (fortunately I have suffered no irritability on this quitting attempt.) The advantage the first 72 hours has is that YOU HAVE JUST STARTED. There is all the willpower, and the determination. You are swinging along the vines singing to yourself how great life will be after you are finally free of the nicotine devil. Imagining all the great things you will be able to afford now that the cigarettes are not burning holes all over your wallet. Thinking about how long life will be, and fresh. How nice it will be to smell things again. A truly glorious vision that helps you past the horrible, depressing, miserable, experiences that your body and mind are putting you through. It helps, and those three days go by like an appendix operation. Lots of anxiety and nervousness, but then it's gone, and you barely noticed they happened. Suddenly and without warning you are plopped smack into the middle of the second week. The point where I am sure most quitting attempts fail. The dreaded miserable horrible second week.
The problem with the second week of not smoking is that you are forced to realize that quitting smoking is hard work. It is miserable, painful, and takes huge amounts of self control. The feelings hang around poking and prodding, well beyond the first 72 hours. Making life a living hell, and making the quitter wonder if this kind of garbage is worth it. What is a few extra weeks, or months of life if they are going to be spent feeling like this? What point is there in spending money on cool new stuff if you are not going to feel good enough to enjoy the cool new stuff? Why bother quitting at all, who is going to notice? in the grand scheme of history, what difference is there between living 54 and 1/2 years, and living 136 years? Not a whole lot just ask the dinosaurs. The absolute worst part is even with the lousy stinking nicotine substitution there is still the fact that I really want to be smoking. The nicotine is a miniscule concern. Well not miniscule, but I want the cigarette. I want to feel the pollutant sear into my lungs. I want to cough and hack and spit up a gob of phlegm. That would be so heavenly right now. Fortunately I am not going to do it because I am at work, and have no stinking cigarettes. But that is what the second week does to you. It makes you realize that the process is going to drag out for the rest of your natural life. And there is nothing you can do about it, except start smoking again. I am sure it gets easier, but now I have no idea when. I think it never will be easier. I think all those smug smirking lying filthy egg ridden vomitrocious ex-smokers are all still a bunch of miserable little specks of lint on the lapels of humanity, and they just say it will be easier after the first 72 hours or month, or whatever their chosen time frame is because they can't stand the thought of somebody else being less miserable than they are. Well they can just put that in their pipes and smoke it. Actually they can't, because they are a bunch of lying no good dirty rotten worthless dishonerable horse faced cheating quitters.