Tim Torkildson's Clown Alley

Wednesday, June 13, 2018

the hot summer light

is tempered by calm green leaves

until it grows bland

Президент Трамп предложит налоговые социальные сети

Вернувшись с триумфом в Белый дом из своих переговоров с Северной Кореей в Сингапуре, президент Трамп немедленно вызвал пресс-конференцию, чтобы объявить еще одну из своих запатентованных бомб: он сказал журналистам, что для того, чтобы покрыть расходы из-за его жестких переговоров с Ким Чен Юном , он попросит Конгресс передать налог на социальные медиа этим летом. «Этот пухлый маленький мамщик знает, как копать и иметь дело», - признался Трамп, автор бестселлера «Искусство сделки». «В обмен на его ядерный арсенал он просит твердую золотую копию горы Рашмор, размер жизни! И это будет стоить. Поэтому, чтобы равномерно распределить боль, я решил, что все на Facebook и Instagram, и особенно на Twitter, должны кашлять немного холодных наличных денег для использования своих личных счетов в социальных сетях. Конечно, как президент, я буду требовать привилегии исполнительной власти, чтобы избежать предлагаемого налога. В конце концов, я - герцог Дикер и барон Бартера. Хотя детали налогового плана все еще неясны, внутренние источники утверждают, что план предусматривает 10-процентный налоговый налог за твит и пять центов за каждый, как на Facebook. Желая, чтобы кто-то с Днем Рождения на любой платформе в социальных сетях автоматически взял на себя плату в двадцать пять долларов. Что касается того, как этот новый новый налог будет применен, Трамп был очень кратким: «Старый мальчик Кимми собирается предоставить IRS взвод его личных сотрудников - эти ребята сломают коленные чашечки, как хлебные палочки. Они никогда не слышали о Верховном суде!

Tuesday, June 12, 2018

EDUCATION BLOGGER FIRED OVER HOMOPHONE CONFUSION

A Utah teacher and education blogger says he was fired from the Nomen Global Language Center in Provo after writing a blog post about homophones, though he disputes media reports that he was let go for promoting a “gay agenda.”

Self-described “social media specialist and content provider” Tim Torkildson recounted the firing in a personal blog post, which was subsequently picked up by The Salt Lake Tribune and other outlets. According to that account, Nomen Global owner Clarke Woodger was concerned that a post about homophones—words that sound the same but are defined differently—meant the school would be “associated with homosexuality.”

“He called me into the conference room, and he said, ‘We’re going to let you go,’” Torkildson told Newsweek. “[He said] this blog on homophones is the last straw. You can’t be trusted. I can’t trust you to write a regular blog.”

Torkildson denied that he was accused outright of promoting a “gay agenda.”

“No, that’s all been distorted,” he said. “His [Woodger’s] words to me were, ‘Some people might think that a blog on homophones has something to do with homosexuality.’ And that’s as far as he went on that. He said he hadn’t looked the word up, and then he realized what it was. His objection mainly was he thought the students at the school would not understand. And they would become offended or think the school would have some kind of gay agenda.”

Torkildson said this wasn’t his first clash with Woodger. “My background is with the circus, so whenever I do publicity or marketing, it’s kind of like in the P.T. Barnum manner,” he said. “It’s big, it’s loud, it’s extravagant. And Clarke just didn’t care for that.”

Woodger did not respond to a request for comment. An employee at the Nomen Global Language Center said that he was out of the office and that she “honestly [didn’t] have any idea about” the firing.

Torkildson, who is homeless and living in a friend’s basement, said his immediate plans were to apply for food stamps and for local health insurance to deal with health problems.

“Food, shelter—the basic concerns are what I’m concerned with right now,” he said.

Still, he shrugged off the dismissal and said it wasn’t the strangest thing he’s been fired for. “I worked for a radio station in Kansas. They fired me for wearing a bow tie instead of a necktie. The station manager called that insubordination.”

(From NewsWeek)

Elbow Grease

Elbow grease was in great demand when I was a child. There was very little of it going around, according to my mother. The want of elbow grease explained why our lawn looked so shaggy and weedy. It was why my dad’s car never gleamed in the sun. It was the reason for soggy leaves clogging up our roof gutters, causing huge icicles to form on sunny winter days -- dangerous stalactites that could impale the unwary child while he made snow angels.

My mother was determined to end this crying lack of elbow grease, at least in our own home. And since I seemed to be the most deficient my mother loaded me down with more chores than you could shake a dust mop at. That I ever survived such a household Gulag is a wonder I never cease remembering in my bedside devotions. Especially since mom was never more than ten feet away while I toiled, micromanaging with a sharp eye and a blunt tongue.

Since I got paid a quarter every week for my allowance, which was enough back in those mingy times for me to buy a Coke and a Superman comic book at the corner drugstore, I knew I had to mow the lawn once a week. And I did. But we had a push mower, which was propelled by yours truly and continually came to a sudden, chest crushing halt whenever it encountered a twig or even a particularly tough dandelion. The blades were as rusty and dull as an old knock-knock joke.

So I was compelled to mow the cursed grass not once, but twice. Once up and down and then again back and forth. And pluck up the dandelions as I did so. Mom kept a beady eye on me from inside the house, and if I came across a rough patch of crabgrass that refused to surrender to the push mower and tried flipping the mower over, so the blades still made the same cutting noise but didn’t touch anything, a window sash would fly open and I would be commanded to go back over that particular patch, and to use some elbow grease. To paraphrase Patrick O’Brian in his Aubrey/Maturin sea novels, “Simon Legree ain’t in it!”

The same held true for putting up and taking down the storm windows each year. Back in those dark ages each window had two sets of frames -- the inner frame, which did not come out, and the outer frame which had to be changed from a screen frame to a heavy glass frame in the fall before the blizzards came roaring down from Canada. Those damn glass frames must have weighed nearly ten pounds each -- they were wood, not aluminum. As I took each one out I had to wash it before putting it in the garage, too. I was never too enthused about rubbing the Windex in very hard -- and so once again my mother’s cry reverberated around my poor head: Elbow grease! More elbow grease! Leave no smudge behind!

The Minnesota winter snows smothered our sidewalk in a fiendishly regular fashion, and guess what? Yep, I had to use plenty of elbow grease to ensure the sidewalks were scrapped clean so no leftover snow could melt and form treacherous icy patches on which the mailman or, heaven forbid, Aunt Ruby might slip when she came for a visit.

When at last I escaped from the tyranny of elbow grease and joined the circus, I wallowed in the dust and smudgeness of my roomette on the Ringling train. These were nearly antique train cars to begin with -- our train car, nicknamed the Iron Lung, had been built in 1922, and by the time I moved into my little roomette in 1972, with the horsehair couch that turned down into a murphy bed, it had acquired a dignified patina of grime that I did nothing to disturb. My own personal hygiene was unimpeachable, you understand; but it gave me a great deal of satisfaction to sit amidst my cobwebs and dust bunnies on the train, reveling in my complete freedom from elbow grease.

But sadly enough when I became a parent myself I couldn’t resist dinning that evil old phrase into the ears of my own innocent little children.

“Put some elbow grease into it!” I yelled at them when they raked the autumn leaves.

“Try some elbow grease!” I advised, when their energy flagged while doing the dishes.

And now . . . well, and now I’m in a Senior Living apartment, all by myself. I have a vacuum and I have a mop, and plenty of rags and Windex and Mr. Clean. And by rights I should be cleaning the toilet to get rid of that stubborn hard water ring inside the bowl instead of writing this insubstantial fluff. But I seem to be all out of elbow grease at the moment. I wonder if you can order it online at Amazon.com?

Monday, June 11, 2018

the artless flowers

are children I have loved long

but not wise enough

A letter from my Missionary Daughter

Hello all you wonderful people!!

This week has been packed! We had the best zone conference ( pretty much just a big group of missionaries getting together) EVER! We talked about what God wants us to do in our individual areas and how He wants us to accomplish the vision that He has for each area. We talked about setting goals and making plans to achieve those goals, and really, it's the most excited I"ve ever been to be able to be a part of this work. There was such a spirit of unity in that meeting, that you couldn't help but feel that the goals we were talking about were directly from God. This truly is God's work, and we are His hands on the earth.

I don't have much time today, and my brain is pretty friend from the busy week I've had, but I'm grateful that God has let me be here in Southern California to serve His children as a missionary and as a representative of Jesus Christ. Sometimes it's easy to get caught up in the distractions of the world, but every time I am brought back to the reality that Jesus Christ is what really matters. His life, teachings, and sacrifice are for all of us to lean on and learn from. He is our example in everything and is the reason why we do what we do. If we keep Him as the central focus in our lives, we will never have to wonder weather or not we are going in the right direction. Other parts of our lives will fall into place and though we won't be immune from challenges, trials, or pains, we can bear them all with His help. He knows us and loves us each personally and invites us to get to know him personally too :)

Today some other sister missionaries threw a combined birthday party for me and a few other sisters in the area that have birthdays soon and it was such a blast!!! We played sand volleyball (though, not very well) and ate cupcakes and pizza; so good! One of the greatest parts about being a missionary is having other missionaries automatically as your "family". I truly love this gospel and I love being a part of it.

Take good care of yourselves friends, and remember to put God first! I promise you will see blessings as a result :)

Have a great week!!

Love, Sister Torkildson

les médias sociaux savent tout de vous

Les médias sociaux sont moche avec des algorithmes rampant sur, en quête d'informations sur chaque personne en ligne. Ces algorithmes sont programmés par l'industrie privée, par des organismes gouvernementaux et par d'étranges jeunes hommes dans le sous-sol de leurs parents. Oh, et bien sûr, ce site Web est déjà profondément dans vos données disponibles pendant que vous lisez ce post. Si j'étais toi, j'arrêterais de regarder cette chose immédiatement et courrais hurler dans la nuit. Mais si vous insistez pour lire plus loin, voici quelques-unes des informations que Facebook, Instagram, Reddit, Snapchat, LinkedIn et les autres rassemblent à votre sujet jusqu'à ce qu'ils puissent le vendre au plus offrant. Votre tension artérielle Votre tension artérielle est un indicateur fiable de votre état de santé général. Plus il est élevé, plus il est probable que vous soyez obligé de donner un coup de fouet à un accident vasculaire cérébral ou à quelque chose d'autre - et les commerçants en ligne veulent savoir combien de temps ils vous feront perdre. C'est pourquoi Amazon demande maintenant aux clients leur tension artérielle chaque fois qu'ils passent commande. Pouvez-vous faire bouillir un œuf Si vous ne pouvez pas, vous êtes encore assez bête pour tomber pour des annonces sur les aliments de combustion des graisses et les exercices d'amélioration des hommes. De plus, vous serez automatiquement en mesure de diffuser le flux Fox News 24/7. Alors, surveillez ces enquêtes sur les œufs durs lorsque vous vous connectez à YouTube. Votre signe du zodiaque Si vous êtes une Vierge, vous achetez toujours du poulet biologique. Si vous êtes un poisson, vous vous mordez les ongles. Les douze signes du zodiaque révèlent vos peurs et vos rêves les plus profonds. Et une fois qu'une agence de marketing connaît votre enseigne, elle peut vous faire acheter son produit - ou bien vous transformer en loup-garou. Donc, ne jamais aller en ligne sans un bon oeil frais de triton.