Girl driving pigs

Also at

https://www.davidarment.photos/People-Images/Restoration/i-WS2JPW4/A

The only thing written on the original of this image is "Driving to Market". 

this is a restoration of a very old image.

 

Image restoration

 

The photos above are before and after of old pictures updated for a friend of mine with whom I used to work. They are of her and her husband, vintage 1970.

The purpose of this post is to show how AI has changed photo restoration. I used to restore old photos for people and it would take a long time and the results were nothing compared to the above.

Below are a few pictures from old Steroview cards. I will try to pick out some of these to work on later today. Here are a couple I've done this morning.

Capital Building Austin Texas. I have no clue as to the time this picture was taken. Note how the AI removed the person walking.

Two different restorations below.

The card shows the following notation, "179 Kyoto, Japan, Kiyomizu Temple". There is a banner to the side that says World Series and there are other letters I cannot read. I believe there is a copyright of 1905 (which would have expired in 1955).

I will try to find time to work on more of these because it is kinda' fun.

What do you think? Is it worth the effort.

To restore the cards it requires a scan on a scanner. Then you have to crop out one of the two "stereo" pictures. For some reason the top of the photos have "arches" so you then have to figure out how to deal with that space. Then you move it into the software and go to work with the picture there.

Let me know!

Joshua 24:15

 Joshua 24:15 As for me and my house we will serve the Lord.

pam sets in motion chain of events re: uranium

Today Pam had the milk out of the refrigerator and was smelling it. She had the screw lid off if it and her nose was right over the top. (The lid off the milk not off the refrigerator.) That is not a good sign. It usually means it has gone bad (the milk not the refrigerator).

I needed some milk for my cereal and she said it was okay. And it did seem okay. 

We buy milk in those plastic jugs. As you know the best jugs are the ones you can see the milk inside. It is rewarding and comforting to see your milk. But the jug we were dealing with this morning was opaque white. You couldn't see the milk. It's like they want to hide something. You are pretty sure milk is in there but there is no way to know for sure because you can't see your own milk.

So everyone knows the best jugs are the clearer ones. Okay, maybe you don't know that but everyone else knows it so that's why I can say "everyone knows this".

But sometimes you get what you get when it comes to the milk game.

Then later in the day Pam said we will have company tomorrow and we need new milk. New milk. Fresh Milk. Good Milk. We didn't need new milk for me, but for company... people who don't even live here... we need better milk.

So what do you make of that? What is the meaning of this? There is some deep psychological issue here that needs to be uncovered on an unconscious level.

On the list I knew the first word was "herseys". You can see it there on the list for yourself. You don't know this, but I know that this means chocolate in the bottle. So although it is "shorthand" I was very proud of myself to figure that one out on my own.

Milk was the second one, and it was easy to figure out because she told me I had to go get milk because the milk we have is bad for company, (but not bad for me).

I knew I need help with this third item, because I had no clue what it said.

The store is usually not real busy. I had to get help to read the list. I asked a young clerk for help. 

She thought it is "1 uranium - 2". One uranium dash 2.

So I asked her if they sold "One uranium dash 2" and she said no, they do not. 

I asked if they had ever sold anything that had uranium in it's name and she said she didn't think so.

So we mutually concluded that the writing probably didn't say "uranium anything".

It looks like "- I U neam 2". What does it look like to you? And if it really is "- I U neam 2" what aisle would that be in?

The last item looks like instructions to go to a baseball game and spray a batter. Okay, but what if they object to being sprayed? And sprayed with what?

Or maybe it says 5 pray batter.

Not on the list is my favorite dip. So I wasn't able to buy it because she didn't put it on the list and I forgot I wanted it.

I'm wondering if the grocery store reported us to the government of the USofA for wanting to buy "1 uranium - 2". I wonder if "1 uranium - 2" it is dangerous. I bet the Iranians would love to have some. And maybe even typing it in this little... this... whateverthisis could put us on the radar of some clandestine operative.

If he comes to visit during the night I hope he brings my dip.

Be Still and Know

Psalm 46:10

 

Artistic Journey

 Everyone changes over time. Everyone changes over time in lots of different ways.

Above is a lighthouse picture that was on my website (www.davidarment.photos) until a few minutes ago. It is not there any longer. Apparently, at one time, I thought it a fine picture and good enough to post there on the website.

I looked at it today and thought to myself... why did you do that? What were you thinking?

Here is what went up in it's place...

What changed in me to think the one below is better than the one above?

Another question is did I have the same tools and skills 13 years ago when the picture was captured to make it into the image below. I may have changed in my tastes and views of what is good and what is bad in terms of images. The software has changed a great deal, for sure. My abilities to employ that software have also surely improved because I've spent so much time editing.

So what do you think. Which picture do you prefer and why?

As I say to my ARC Photo Students... Would you hang that on your wall?

Best regards, 

PS here is a link to the image that survives on the website.

https://www.davidarment.photos/Buildings/Lighthouses/i-8nvVsxN/A

and here is a link to learn more about the lighthouse...

https://www.kewauneepierheadlighthouse.org/

you talk to your bones

 

I stop working at 8PM. My days are not like most people's. I work "hit and miss" throughout the day. But I quit whatever I'm doing at 8.

Work should likely be in quotation marks, because it's not like I'm baling hay or plowing a field or hanging drywall. Nope. I'm sitting at a computer trying to figure out how to make a picture look better or how to spell a word.

After 8 o'clock we watch TV for 1.5 hours. I sit in a recliner type chair and Pam sits in her chair which has a leaf pattern and looks very outdoorsy and therefore is just right for her. 

After sitting that long I have figured out - over time - that I just can't "stand up". No, that doesn't work anymore. Now I've learned to "talk to my bones".

I say to them, "Okay, now we are going to stand up in just a minute. Get ready!".

Then when I stand up, I just stand. I don't walk or move around. I just stand. The bones crackle and pop in objection to the weight put upon them. The stiffness doesn't disappear until you take a few steps, but one thing at a time, first you have to stand there for a minute.

Then when you walk you have to be sure that the message has been delivered to the entire body... "We are walking now". Some of the individual parts may have mistaken sitting for an hour and a half for sleep. They think its nighty-night time and they don't want to move. So you don't move quickly.

So this is how you know you are old.

You talk to your bones.

1 John 3:1

 

je pense, donc je suis

 

je pense, donc je suis (I think therefore I am). - René Descartes

There was a professor at the college I attended who was a "cool dude". He was Dr. David. So he also had a cool name.

Dr David had an arm that had been damaged or was deformed. I ran track and cross country in college (or tried to). Dr David was often on the track with his arm in a sling trudging around the track. He bothered no one and no one bothered him. He kept an even pace and just moved around the track to get his exercise.

He was cheerful and kind and was always smiling.

I had him as a professor in an intro to philosophy class. As I recall now 50 years later the class was okay. And I had little interest in going past the intro class.

One day I decided to engage Dr David in conversation. The problem was that although I wanted to talk to him I had nothing to say. Being young and impetuous I approached Dr David anyway. (Impetuous in this case used as an adjective meaning: "acting or done quickly and without thought or care")

The only thing I could think of to say was, I saw in the college catalog that there is a course called "'Symposium for Seniors', what is that"?

He explained it was for Graduating Seniors who were pursing a degree in Philosophy. And that it was not called a "class" because it was not a lecture it was a discussion about advanced readings by classical and otherwise famous philosophers.

Then he said the most astounding thing...

"I will sign you up."

I will sign you up? What the heck is that? I panicked inside. I didn't want to be in a symposium. No one knows what that is anyway. I liked the professor, but not necessarily the class!

How do I get out of this? I had reverence for this person. My father was an asshat and it was hard for me to relate well to older men.

So I said something brilliant like, UGH. Which was apparently interpreted as "okay, sign me up".

The next thing you know I had a huge book. Huge. Enormous. Gigantic. Some of the paragraphs in the book took two or three pages. I was lost. There was no hope. The folks who wrote these Treatises were obviously on drugs. They simply wrote descriptions of their "trip". They were long "word salads" to me. 

As we sat in this "symposium" these graduating seniors looked somber. They would talk about existence of man, and other deep subjects. My idea of deep was pizza crust thin or Chicago style. I said little and knew I was likely doomed.

Apparently God intervened and gave me an idea. I would read the first sentence or so (which could be half a page long) figure out what that one sentence meant. Then I would read the very last sentence of the work, many pages later, and figure out what it meant. Then in this "symposium" I would simply say what I thought the first sentence said. And then later I would say what I thought the last sentence said. The students would look off into the distance as if their drugs had just kicked in again and pondered my astute observation. It made me happy to see their enormous brains mulling over this nugget that I had no idea of what meaning it held if any.

It worked.

I got an "A".

I think therefore I am

I thought therefore I was. 

Go figure.

Psalm 37:7a

 

Bad Liars, Good Liars,

 

We've started car shopping. So far we have taken one ride with a car salesman.

We asked him, what is this button as we pointed to a button that had some sort of Egyptian icon on it. He didn't know so he took out his cell phone camera and took a picture. That didn't help. We still don't know what that button did / does.

As it turns out that should have been a sign. An Omen. Something to pay heed to.

But I digress, if that is possible before you even get started.

I know some good liars. They were once personal friends. If there were an Olympics for Liars they would win. For sure. Hands down. No question. 

I'm guessing that as all the Olympic lairs were practicing for their events these liars I know would walk in and they would simply close down the competition and hand them the medals. They are good. Really good. Peerless.

This used car salesman we took a ride with was not a good liar. Rule numero uno of lying is to remember the lie. I'm guessing that would be rule number one. However it may give way to the other really good lie technique wherein you have a sliver of truth in the lie and that makes you like hard to refute. But for now let's just agree that numero uno is "remember the lie".

This car salesman needed to go back to car sell lying school. He told us the car we liked was a demonstrator. It was used by one of the higher up "muckety-mucks" at the dealership and that's why it had so few miles on it. Later in our adventure with him he told us that the car had been returned after a lease had expired on it. We asked for and received a "CarFax" on the vehicle and in it was the information that they had purchased it at auction.

None of this upset Pam or I. He was a really nice younger man and he was entertaining so we just "rolled with it", knowing nothing he said made a "hill of beans" difference to our car buying or anything else.

However on the ranking of "World's Best Liar", he would not make the cut to compete at the regional level, that much less hope to make it to the national stage. He is doomed to be a local level liar and that is sad. Maybe.

Then we asked about the price. On the window was a gigantic sticker in yellow that said $33,000. That is a lot of money. The prices of everything have ballooned and we old people can't keep up with the fast advancement of prices. I still go into McDonald's hoping to see the "Dollar Menu". It's a fantasy now. Gone like the unicorn. The Tyrannosaurus. The Dodo bird. My hair.

He told us they did "invoice pricing". Which was confusing. By now he had convinced himself that he was dazzling us with his verbal slight of hand, (or slight of tongue) so he was embolden to just say whatever he darn well pleased. Upon hearing "invoice pricing" I asked whom invoiced you? If it is a used car how do you have an invoice.

He became pentecostal. The words flew out like the fat lady at the revival who was being freed from her demon. Words and more words that were all English but were what has come to be known in the age of Kamala Harris as a "word salad".

So we abandon that question... until... we got home and I found on the internet the same care on the same dealership lot with a price of $30,000.

The next day our friend called to ask us if we were still interested in this car. I asked him what the price was since we had encountered two. He said they did "market pricing". (No I don't know what happened to invoice pricing.)

Of course I asked what that was and I got another word salad, but my "take away" was it was like when you go to a really fancy restaurant and you want to order the "sea bass squid octopus fish" it is listed as "market price" which means that you have the waiter tell you what the price of the fish was right that very minute. Probably because this tiny restaurant in Nowheresville Indiana has a jet airplane standing by to fly that fish in to them and they will quote the price as the plane lifts off and after they cook it in the microwave you will get it at whateveritis the price is. You know, the "market price".

So if you are going to lie try to remember you lies and stick with them. This will require to make your lie a good one because there won't be do-overs. And as mentioned above sprinkle a hint of truth on the lie.

And if you want help with buying a car we can tell you where not to go. And I ain't lie'n.

Update...

Before this post was published I had an automated message from AutoTrader saying the car in question had sold. 

Then this morning the salesman from the dealership called and asked if we were still interested in the car. I told him it had sold. Long silence. "Hello you still there?"

"Yeah, I'm checking"... "That car sold".

Hebrews 13:5 and Deuteronomy 31:6

 

Pam Has Worms Again - Part 2

 

Pam's worms were delivered they came in a box in which were two bags. Pam said she thinks she has 2000 worms not 1000 worms which is what we ordered.

Only one person volunteered to count worms (see the previous post). But it didn't count because it was a woman who volunteered her husband. So he was able to easily "worm out of it".

Pam put the worms into the soil that she had been preparing for weeks. Then she went around the house and repurposed lights to put over the bed so that the worms think it is daylight over their box / bed even though it is night. Otherwise the little wiggly inmates have secret meetings and plot escapes which they execute but their escape execution appears to the naked eye to be pretty random. They wiggle up the side of the box and out the top or out little air holes and then out into the world. "The world" isn't to hospitable to the little worms most times and they end up being recaptured or meet their demise on the cement floor.

Little do they appreciate that the home they have is full of love and caring and the best table scrapes that money can buy. But freedom is in their blood, and they will escape if you are not a smart, worm warden like Pam.

I was puzzled and asked her why she gave away her other worm farm. She had a nice one built and she gave it to some young girls at church who garden and have chickens and like the same things Pam likes. Pam went through a long explanation and when she was done I summed it up for her. I said, "You changed your mind."

To which she said, "Yeah, I changed my mind."

It isn't easy to leave a home with two gardens and move into "senior housing" and figure out what you can do, can't do, and regain your psychological and physiological "footing". So changing you mind is a-okay.

I hope that all those thousands of worms don't have a prison meeting and plot a mass escape from their bed which is in the garage. What a mess that would be!

If you come to visit you should ask to see Pam's worm farm.

Psalm 100:3b

 

one of my favorite pictures of all time

one of my favorite pictures 

 

Psalm 55:22

 

Pam has worms... again

 

I posted on Facebook once that "Pam has worms". A few people got excited. People love Pam and they rush to defend her. But when you have worms... well you have worms.

Pam is a gardener. When it is nice outside and she doesn't have her hands in the dirt she gets the "heebie jeebies". She is always thinking about "soils". Sometimes I am pressed into service by scooping up manure from the parking lots of local establishments where the Amish park their buggies and their horses do what they need to "when nature calls". It's not a nice job.

We moved once and Pam convinced a neighbor to move her large mound of duck "stuff". He had to scoop it up with a tractor and load it onto a wagon. It was several scoops. Then he moved it for her to the new house. Pam can apparently be very convincing.

A few years ago Pam started learning about "worm castings". Castings is a nice word for poop which is a nice word for "you know what". 

Worm castings are great for soil. So we ordered today worms for Pam and she has a worm farm in a big plastic container. Those worms get the best of table scraps and all sorts of attention. They get moved inside when it is too hot or too cold and they get moved outside when the weather is nice.

Some of the worms don't know how good they have it so they crawl up and out of their enclosure. But Warden Pam has answers for every eventuality and she knows how to keep them in their "worm bed".

We ordered het 1000 worms today. We don't know if we will get 1000 worms exactly, so we are looking for volunteers to count worms when the package arrives. Please advise if this is something you would like to do.

So very soon... Pam will have worms... again.

Red Winged Balckbird

Red Winged Blackbird perched on dead tree against blue sky.

March 2026

 

New Friends

 

I don't make friends easily. So today I had a great day because I made two new friends!

Do you remember when you were a kid and how easy it was to make friends. You just found someone you thought you would like and put them in a headlock until they said that they would be your friend. Those were the days!

Ha, you know I'm just kidding. 

It took very little to find out something you had in common that would be your bond of friendship. Like you and another little boy didn't like girls cause they had cooties. That was it. Nothing more needed. Friends forever.

My new friends just liked me. It was that simple.

The both seemed to like me a lot. When you think about it, even just a little, whats not to like! Okay I may be ugly and old. But I still have most of my teeth and can talk pretty good and have a good grammatical grasp of the language English.

We talked about our families and the things that we like. Where they were from and where they now live. How many kids they have. They let me drive their cars. 

They were able met Pam who was with me and she drove their cars also

We just generally had a good time.

They said they might call me in the next day or two. Isn't that nice. I wonder if we can grab a burger maybe.

These were two separate individuals at two separate car dealerships, where we were looking for something new for Pam.

One of the guys said the didn't care if we bought a car from him, he just wanted to help us. What more can you ask from a friend?

It was rewarding to make new friends.

Easter Sunday

 

Happy Easter

Almost the Mile High Club

 

In an earlier post I told you about our, Saturday breakfasts here in our community for older adults. It happens in a local eatery who has a table set up for us every Saturday morning.

At breakfast recently we were treated to a story, that lead to another story. The two stories are related by theme or subject. So in this one post you will get two stories. What a bargain!

Before we begin the first story we need to "set it up". At our breakfast there are two groups. Men sit and one end of the table and women at the other. Women outnumber the men by more than 4:1. This is because women outlive men. 

Therefore it is often the case where there will be multiple conversations. It would not be strictly true to say the men have their own conversations and the women have their own, however that would be generally true.

Truth be told, the women have several conversations going at the same time.

In the first story I will rely to you today a couple from this group went on a trip. The first part of their journey was by airplane.

The rendition of the story has two tracks... two observations of the same event. The observation of the lady of this couple who recounted the story to the ladies: and the observation of the man who told it to the men.

In the later rendition a man tried to force as flight attendant into the restroom at the back of the airplane to "have his way with her". He (the man telling the story) repeated several times that this was "a federal offense". I have no idea what kind of offense it is / was, or why it mattered if it was "federal","state", "local" or whatever. My simple observation was (and is) that it was an effort doomed for failure since it would be very difficult to achieve the required physical maneuvers in such a small space assuming you had two willing individuals. So in the current scenario the effort was doomed from the outset given the fact one of the reluctant individuals would be uncooperative.

After listening to additional information it was clear the male part of this alleged airplane debacle was not thinking clearly and had not weighed out the potential downsides to his amours intent. 

He was apparently taken out of the plane by the police in handcuffs. Obviously it was a big commotion. Both stories had this part in common.

The passengers were of course - I was told - thinking about their connections. Although it is my conjecture that there surly were multiple individuals who where concerned about the physical and mental state of the flight attendant. But I wasn't there so what do I know?

The lady of the couple had a different story. In her version the man forced himself onto the plane. He was being chased by the police through the airport and down the gangway. Once on the plane he grabbed the flight attendant and headed toward the toilet with her despite her objections. This version makes no more sense than the first. Why were the police in pursuit? How did he get onto the plane? Was he going to hide in the restroom? Why did he need the flight attendant?

Although this one event had wildly different interpretations the ending was nearly the same. Police. Handcuffs. Forced Exit. Connection concerns.

Now the second story. Or maybe if you count the above as two stories then this is the third?

After hearing the above story (stories) another lady told of the time she was on an airplane and sudden turbulence caused the captain to come on the loud speaker and say words to the effect, "Ladies and gentlemen, please secure your seat belts because we have encountered bad weather. And the two in the bathroom need to finish up and return to their seats as soon as possible."

The end.

Slow your roll

 

Getting old is weird. Avoid it. Whatever age you are now, just stay there.

Our little community is a 55+ community. It has multiple events during the month. I usually go when there is food involved. It wasn't planned, but I noticed I go when there is food.

We have breakfast every Saturday. Today there were about 10 of us at breakfast. 

There are usually at least two separate discussions taking place at a long table. Sometimes you want to be involved in more than one and that can be a problem. So you listen to one of the others with one ear and try to seem interested in whatever conversation you are supposed to be in with the other ear.

One of the discussions today was on committees. The manager of our facility said in our last community meeting that we needed more committees. I asked this morning how many do we have now. No one knew. They said there is a book. Look it up in the book. But "offhandedly" they didn't know.

(There is a book?)

(PS: regarding the word "offhandedly". I was sure that I'd invented a NEW really clever word, but it already exists. Bummer.)

One of the ladies said that she was asked to be Vice-President of a committee. She was asked by the President of said committee. She said she would under the condition that he (the President) not miss any meetings so that she would not have to preside.

He promptly died.

So that is the most weird thing about being old. People that you know are leaving... "Shuffling off this mortal coil". Sometimes you get to say goodby and sometimes you don't.

Or they get ill. In your mind they are catching a "double hitter" at the softball game and the next thing you know they are in a wheelchair with a dog in their lap looking happy. 

So again, repeating myself as old people often do... put the brakes on, slow your roll, tap the brakes or do whatever you can to stay whatever age you are now.

If you find that not possible then act whatever age that you wish you were.

Follow me for more uplifting advice.

Sunday is Coming

 Friday is here.

Sunday is coming.

Existential Crisis... Pam moved the spoons

 Pam moved the spoons.

Now I can’t find them. Now I have to think and remember where they are because… 

Pam moved the spoons.

This is against the rules. There is an unwritten rule that everyone knows about that once you move into a new place (we moved into a new place) and everything gets put away (we put things away) and it (it being the spoons) doesn’t move for 6 months (the spoons were put away for more than 6 months) then that is it’s permanent home. Maybe you didn’t know this is a rule, but everyone else knows this is a rule which is why I can say everyone knows this is a rule.

It’s a common sense rule. Once something has a home for 6 months or more that is it’s home. The place it lives and feels comfortable. 

There was a study done once by the National Cutlery Association (NCA) that was labeled "Top Secret". I only know about it because I know people "familiar with the subject". And they tell me that the study proves spoons have feelings to (to meaning also). Forks also have feelings but they are rather ambivalent (meaning the have feelings but they don't really care one way or the other about most things). It was interminable (this means who the heck knows) if knives had feelings or not.

(Today is put everything in bracket day.)(Soon to be a National Holiday.)(For real.)

So there is that (meaning the NCA study).

Pam ignored this rule and relocated all the spoons, forks and knives to a new drawer. Now they are lost. Now they are alone. Now they are refugees. Displaced. Now they feel abandoned and "left out" because no one knows where they are. 

Before Pam moved the spoons you (you meaning me) could turn to your old friends in their familiar home. Now you have to think about it and then remember, oh yeah…

Pam moved the spoons.

Prada Marfa 2015

Pam and I were on our way home from a trip west. We stopped at an RV Park in Texas and decided to spend more than one night.

We asked the people at the front desk what there was to see in that part of Texas. Their response would not have made the Chamber of Commerce or the local Visitor's Beureau proud.

They literally had no idea.

The said something about a shoe store. There was a discussion about where it was and what it was called. Maybe - they thought - it was Prada.

The picture represents what we found. On the plains, not near anything. It had fancy shoes and purses in the window. The doors were locked and if you wandered around you found a plaque that told you this was art. Yep, art. 

It was an art installation.

The coyotes and armadillos were entertained I'm sure.

Texas 2015


from wikipedia...
Prada Marfa is a permanent sculptural art installation by artists Elmgreen & Dragset, located along U.S. Route 90 in Jeff Davis County, Texas, United States, 1.4 miles (2.3 km) northwest of Valentine, and about 26 miles (42 km) northwest of Marfa.[1] The installation, in the form of a freestanding building—specifically a Prada storefront—was inaugurated on October 1, 2005. The artists described the work as a "pop architectural land art project.
 

Psalm 118:24

 

The Brain Transplant (is off)

 

The Brain Transplant

(Note to Reader: The names have been changed in this story to protect the innocent. So when you see “Dr. Liu” you should know that the person’s real name is not “Liu”, instead it is something else.)

I went to see Dr. Liu. She is my new found neurologist. I need a neurologist because a cardiologist called into question the proper functioning of my brain. 

As soon as Dr. Liu came into the little consulting room I told her that my problem is that there are too many brains in my cranium. This of course causes headaches as all those brains are crowded in one place and they complain to one another about the cramped conditions. There is no higher power for them to appeal to, no arbiter of who should occupy what space, or who should get to have the best spot in the cranium; which I guess that would be near the eyes because the view would be better. This commotion, the endless arguing and yelling and general upheaval causes headaches. The French often say at the end of a declaration of fact such as this , “it is clear” (est clair); meaning “of course”, “there can be no doubt”, or “it is self-evident”. 

As I told her this she looked unconcerned. Maybe she is gathering it all in and is brilliant, but just doesn't show it.

So I just kept talking. She needs to know this. I need to tell her up front so as not to waste her valuable time and because "The Price is Right", will be on TV exactly when I get home if I can get out of her sooner rather than latter.

I told her the headaches were not really that bad. The cardiologist caught me on a bad day. “Yes” I did have a headache and “yes” my blood pressure was that of a large elephant after being chased by a pack of wild wolves (or are they chased by leopards or lions… maybe it isn’t wolves?). I guess it doesn’t matter. The point is my blood pressure was very high and I had a headache.

I told her that many of my friends think I have too many brains. That maybe we (we meaning me) should have a brain transplant where I, being still alive, would contribute, some overage of my massive brain mass, to some less fortunate person who is needy and in need. They could benefit from my situation of having too many brains that cause headaches. It would be one of those rare “win / win” situations. Fewer headaches for me, more brains for them. But – just to be clear – at the conclusion of this humanistic endeavor I would still be alive. I of course want to be alive to accept my Nobel Prize for Humanitarianism. And if there is no such prize they will create one “post haste” given my big contribution to Humanitarianism. 

I really don't know if Dr Liu does brain surgery or she does other train related stuff, but it doesn't matter. She needs to know.

Yes of course I would want to pick out the person who would receive my brain, I told her. I do know some people who live “out of State” who sure could use some more brains, but given their ineptness at using the brains they now have, it would be like throwing “pearls before swine” to give them more. Plus since they don’t like me then they wouldn’t likely even mutter “thank you”. So instead the person who would receive the brain transplant / transfer needs to be someone who DOES like me and whom will be able to testify to the Noble Humanitarianism Prize Committee (the NHPC if there is such a thing) that I’m a fantastic humanitarian.

This is all good stuff, but she isn't writing any of it down.

 And I know a lot of people who DO like me who could use some more brains. So really there is no problem finding someone, except they may not want their skull cracked open. Other than that people should be lining up around the block.

“What do you think?”, I asked.

Then I was quiet.

"Sorry, I no understand English good. I understand brain malfunction, only. No do brain surgery."

So if you are reading this and as you read were getting very excited about the prospects of having some of my brain overage put into the vacant parts of your cranium. Sorry. Dr. Liu didn’t understand so the brain transplant is “off”.

©David L Arment

PS, obviously this is fiction. I did however get paired up with a neurologist "fresh off the boat" who did not understand everything said. It was disconcerting to say the least.