Plan for the rule, not the exception

"Plan for the rule, not the exception."

Russell M. Nelson.

I intend to follow rules

each day when I awake.

Exceptions do I never plan

(unless involving cake.)

Regulations are the stuff

of stern reality.

(But sometimes I just have to yell

when in the library . . . )

Happy is the man who heeds

the rule of law each hour.

I support such rectitude

(though tis not in MY power . . . )

An immigrant businessman is offering ‘Bad Hombre’ and ‘Fake News’ tacos. Some aren’t buying it.

Maybe Trump is right after all. Maybe those guys south of us are up to something sneaky. Maybe naming a taco right in our own country with a provocative phrase is their way of psyching us out. And what about the taco drones and taco submarines that are massing at the Border and around the Gulf?  C'mon, you can't say you haven't heard about those things! They're all over the news -- well, the news if you know where to look. And nowadays you gotta look carefully for the right kind of news, the kind that explains things instead of just hinting at them or doesn't push the envelope a bit. 

The other night I'm sure I saw an armored taco clanking down the alley behind my place. The lettuce and diced tomatoes left a tell-tale trail that the police could have easily followed, after I called them, if they possessed the will to dig deeper. But all they did was give me a breathalyzer test and warn me about abusing the 911 system.

Now just gimme a chance to explain the real science behind a taco weapon of mass destruction. Keep an open mind, will ya? And remember, the Alamo wasn't built in a day. So here goes.

We've known for years that taco meat, when in the wrong hands, has the potential to be turned into a deadly explosive. The kind of explosive that can level a small city the size of Grand Island, Nebraska. And nobody wants that to happen -- except, maybe, the residents of Grand Island. I've never heard too many good things about the place. Anywho. When taco meat is mixed with certain chemical compounds and organic herbs and spices it becomes highly unstable and welcoming to free radicals. All it takes, I'm told, is a sudden jolt for the mixture to go up in flames like the Fourth of July. There's no disagreement about this at all between chemists world-wide. You've probably proved it to yourself, in a small way, after recklessly ordering the taco special at a paint store while looking for shellac.

It's also an undisputed fact that a small helping of taco meat, under controlled conditions, can power an aircraft carrier for two years before needing to be replenished. All of North America could be lit at night from the rumbustious energy emanating from just one Taco Bell. So the taco is both a blessing, and a curse. Much like that old couch in the basement that your friend from college slept on last winter. 

The diabolical thing is that the delivery system for taco meat can be either soft shell or hard shell. There's no way of knowing in advance just which one will fly over your neighborhood or surface in your local duck pond. If I were at the Pentagon right now I know that this fiendish dilemma would be keeping me up at nights.

So can we at least all agree that it's a bad thing for tacos to be harnessed for war? Let's encourage our neighbors to the South to keep things in perspective. After all, Canada has had poutine for nearly a century now -- and they've never used it on any other country. It's kept under strict control and used only by hockey players during the winter months. Of course there was that meltdown in Moose Jaw last year, but they contained it quickly and kept everyone calm by passing out free "I Survived the Moose Jaw Melt Down" t-shirts. 

So maybe we can hold a conference or something with potential international tacoteers -- see if we can get them to let the taco once again roam free and pure among the agave and sagebrush. And if not, I think we all know just how effective a Chicago hot dog can be in the hands of our military forces . . . 
  

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And he commanded them that they should not cease to pray in their hearts.

And he commanded them that they should not cease to pray in their hearts.

3 Nephi 20:1

When the heart has learned to pray,

from the Lord it will not stray.

Outward show and ornate tone

still can leave the heart alone.

Perfumed censers, chanted rote,

do not keep my heart afloat.

Help me, Lord, to worship thee

in my bosom quietly.

The Magical Toothpick

It looked like an ordinary wooden toothpick at Justin Bieber's wedding reception. I hadn't been invited to it, actually; the invitation arrived in the mail by mistake, and I wasn't going to go because I had no conception of what to wear -- I thought a cummerbund was a pastry. But at the last minute a bus narrowly missed hitting me as I crossed the street, so I decided that every minute of the rest of my life should be played for the highest stakes possible, and darn the consequences. I showed up at the reception in brown corduroy trousers and a plaid shirt. The ushers just shrugged and let me waltz right in.

Looking for a souvenir, I zeroed in on the toothpick as something nobody would miss, and that wouldn't show up if they patted me down on my way out. I picked it up and put it in my plaid shirt pocket. It was actually a pretty boring reception. Everyone but me was a celebrity and the whole night was spent by those poor schmendricks being photographed and telling lies about their careers and sexual prowess. I left early, when the shrimp scampi ran out.

On the bus home I kept hearing sneezes that seemed to come from my shirt pocket. I finally peeked into it just in time to see the toothpick open its tiny mouth and sneeze. "Holy Hannah!" I cried in surprise. "Are you anthropomorphic or something?" I was pretty proud of myself for getting that big word out without stumbling. "Yes, yes" said the toothpick in a wooden voice. "I'm alive and I've got magical powers, which you may now command. But first take me out of here -- I'm allergic to plaid!" 

No sooner said than done. "How many wishes do it get?" I asked eagerly. "Wrongo, skippy" it replied. "I don't give wishes or anything else. I take things away."
"Huh? What?" I said. Nobody on the bus cared that I was talking to a toothpick; why should they, when there was another guy sitting across from me with green plastic bags covering his hands?
"I take things away; I am a magical subtracting toothpick" it said patiently. "I was created by elfin lumberjacks from the Marmalade Mountains and served them for eons before I was lost by . . . "
"Yeah, right" I interrupted him. "I've read the Lord of the Rings, so you can skip all that. Just explain what's in it for me, will ya?"
"Very well" it said sullenly. "If you want something removed you just tell me to remove it, to subtract it, and it's gone. Vanished. Absquatulated from existence -- see, I can use big words too!" 
I had to try this out, pronto. So I said "Take away that crazy guy's green plastic bags from around his hands."
They were gone -- completely absquatulated -- in the blink of a wink. The guy looked at his hands in surprise, then got out some more green plastic bags from his coat pocket and began putting them on his hands again.
 "Wow!" I enthused. "That's great! But what's the catch? There must be a catch -- there's always a catch with these things."
But the magical toothpick said nothing. It never spoke again. But it kept removing things at my command.

The next day my rotten neighbor let his dog take a dump on my sidewalk and didn't bother to clean it up. So I commanded it to be removed, and it was. The dump, not the dog. At work I made my supervisor's belt go away. His pants kept going to half mast until he had to leave early to go buy another belt. That was sweet, I tell you what! I've never liked him from the get-go. I disappeared flies from the break room. And when I got home that evening I directed that all the dust bunnies under my bed be gone. 

But then something began gnawing at me. Was I supposed to have this magical wooden toothpick, or was it supposed to be a wedding present for Justin Bieber? Had I stolen it from its rightful owner? I decided there was only one thing to do, so I went back over to Bieber's mansion and tried to get in to give him back his magical toothpick. But when I explained this to the burly guards at the front gate they picked me up and threw me into an oleander bush. I had to use the toothpick to make my scratches and bruises go away.

Just so you know, I did give some serious thought to becoming a super hero with my magical wooden toothpick -- "Captain Subtraction to the rescue!" I dreamed of removing bad hats like Putin and Kim Jong Un -- I could even rid the world of Donald Trump. But in the end, it just wasn't my style. Live and let live is the only motto I've every felt passionate about. So I've kept things small and innocuous. I disappear every plastic bag I see floating around in the streets and in parking lots. I've removed spots from all my neckties. I really enjoy removing ring tones from phones when I'm at the movies. 
I'm still undecided about removing telemarketers when they call me.

Timericks

Re: A man pulled a gun to demand Popeyes chicken sandwiches after they sold out

When the urge is on me for/chicken from a Popeye's store/I won't take no lip about/closing shop or being out/If a sandwich they can't make/then some heads I'll surely break/Let the cops take me away/I won't go to Chick-fil-A!

therefore I knew concerning these things, yet I would not know;

. . . therefore I knew concerning these things, yet I would not know . . . 

Alma 10:6

"I know, but I don't!" is the cry of despair

uttered by those who are burdened with care.

"I would, but I can't!" they may also shout out,

because, like us all, they are sometimes in doubt.

The answer is easy -- too easy for some:

Unto the Savior in hope you must come.

Come gather honey and milk without cost;

Come to the haven that's ne'er tempest tossed.

The knowledge that's buried deep inside my heart

is placed there by God to give me a new start.

Great & Marvelous Works

 Some things they may have guessed right, among so many; but behold, we know that all these great and marvelous works cannot come to pass, of which has been spoken.
Helaman 16:16

The smallest minds are bound up tight

in disbelieving truth and light.

The glory of the Lord they fear,

and cultivate a tetchy ear.

A leaden brow and blinkered gaze

will never show them such a blaze

as God alone will kindle when

He comes to rule and reign again.

Give me, oh Lord, an open mind

that thy great glory I may find!

Hvordan kredittkort stjeler din personlige informasjon

I et fersk eksperiment med kredittkort-personvern kjøpte forskere en enkelt banan, først med et ferskt Apple-kort, og deretter igjen med en Amazon Prime Visa-belønning, utstedt av Chase. De registrerte deretter resultatene av hvordan kredittkortdata ble delt, utvunnet og hvem og når det ble sporet. Bananen gikk til en Target-butikk, og sveipte det i tjuen cent. Etter sveipingen (og tilberedning av frokosten til nevnte banan) begynte forskere å spore hvordan informasjonen om banankjøp deres avviklet ikke bare til Target seg selv, men hedgefond, Google, Amazon og en rekke markedsførere som var ivrige etter å tråkke med sine bananrelaterte varer . Kortinformasjon anses tilsynelatende som ønskelig informasjon, selv når det ikke innebærer noe mer enn et stykke frukt. Studien fant at kredittkort virkelig er et "føflekker" i alles lommebok. Hvert kjøp, uansett bankmerke eller kredittkortmerke, enten det er Platinum eller Premium eller Rewards, lekker data til større selskaper, som igjen selger informasjonen til andre selskaper på engrosbasis. I noen tilfeller, som ovennevnte uskyldige bananer, blir informasjonen som innhentes fra dette kjøpet mer verdifull enn selve kjøpesummen. Bankene har blitt klar over den økende bekymringen for forbrukerne om at data om kjøp av kredittkort blir delt, kjøpt og solgt, og tar skritt for å motvirke den irriterende kundenirritasjonen. Apple-kortet kommer med et kort avsnitt når det er utstedt som forklarer grensene Apple har lagt på dataene samlet hver gang et kjøp gjøres. Viser seg ikke å være en grense så mye som et stykke tau drapert over veien. Selv om det er forbud mot selskaper å selge informasjon direkte til markedsførere om spesifikke forbrukerkjøp, er det ingenting som hindrer dem i å ‘profilere’ kjøp etter alder, kjønn og geografisk beliggenhet og deretter gi ut denne informasjonen til alle de vil. Stort sett det samme gjelder Visa-kortet som ble brukt i eksperimentet. Bortsett fra at spesifikke leveringsadresser når kjøp gjøres online, selges direkte til høystbydende, noe som gjør Visas påstander om personvern mer farsk enn saklig.

This work is moving forward at an accelerated pace

President Russell M. Nelson


“This work is moving forward at an accelerated pace. I can just hardly wait to bounce out of bed each morning and see what the day will bring.”
President Russell M. Nelson  

When the prophet speaks today

Saints had better start to pray

they can keep up with his pace

as to glory he does race.

Old in years, and wisdom too,

he reminds both me and you

that there's true vitality

only in a Gospel spree.

Out of bed be sure to vault

early, and in God exalt!