So pretty

I don't sign my credit cards.  Instead, I write "See photo ID," hoping that cashiers will card me, or, more pointedly, the jerk who stole my credit card.  They don't.  They take my card, flip it over, read "See photo ID," and proceed to swipe the card.

So when I got a new card, I got more explicit.  "INVALID without photo ID," I wrote.  The process has not changed.  Exactly one person in the last year has carded me because of the strongly-worded statement.  I have considered disputing every charge for which I'm not carded, since technically I indicated that I don't consent to the charge.  But I doubt my credit union would be highly amused, and I would love to keep the 9% APR card I carry.  (Not that the rate matters, since I've never carried a balance.)

The other thing I do is refuse to sign my name.  Here's what I usually do on the signature line:

Most people think that's my thing.  But, as with so many of "my" (or, I bet, "your") things, it's actually carried over from a non-mutual acquaintance.  This habit I picked up from Jason Shenk when I was 18.  We walked from campus to Marsh (or was it "Low Bill's" or whatever back then?) for some snacks, and that's how he signed.

So I often sign that way.  Sometimes I draw something else.  Sometimes it's random scribbles.  Once I just drew an opaque rectangle.  Sometimes I write "No way!"  I get bolder, too, when it's one of those electronic key things.  I do it because I find it annoying that there's no security with this stuff, and this is how introverted comedians express their frustration.

Today at Safeway, I did the usual.  Unusually, though, the cashier looked at the receipt after it printed out.  Squinted carefully at it.  And then called me by name (my last name) as he wished me a good day.

Still no reaction to the drawings.

Scribble Theology apparel

Two designs are available over at the Red & Shoulders store.  With one, you can claim to be a theologian (you know, because you talk about God).  With the other, you can identify yourself as a theologologian, or one who studies theology.

What if *that* were up?

When I was little, I used to make my dad dangle me upside-down and carry me around the house.  It was one of my favorite things because when he did that, I didn't have the experience of being upside-down.  I simply had the experience of the ceiling being "down."  I imagined I was walking on the ceiling, navigating around light fixtures, stepping over the inexplicable foot-high walls that separated every room.

For years, I have sat--in calculus class, in dining rooms, on busses--and tried to imagine what would happen if gravity suddenly changed directions.  I'd imagine everything falling to the new down, try to estimate how badly I might be injured in the fall, look for handholds to grab on to, and plan how I might venture in the new sideways world.  Because it would be like adventuring in a new world, wouldn't it?  You probably wouldn't be able to leave the building you were in when it happened; at least, not without a ladder, which could help get to the neighbor's house.  A house across the street would now be on the other side of a deep chasm.  Billions would be dead or dying.  Do you ever make plans for the zombie apocalypse?  Yeah, me too.  But I also make plans for the gravity shift apocalypse.

Think about it.  Think about all the places you can walk now that would be utterly inaccessible in the sideways world.

Upside-down would be even worse, of course.  Particularly if you were outside.  Sometimes I lie in the grass and look up at the sky, and I make the sky "down."  I am stuck to this grass ceiling, perhaps by some upside-down-world static electricity, dangling over an endless fall.  Could I grab that telephone line on the way?  Would it support my sudden weight?  Would there be any survival strategy if I wound up clinging to a power line?  What does "grounded" mean now?

Attempts to survive a straight-up gravity reversal from outside would be futile, so I normally don't bother.  I just cling to the ceiling and look down at the sky, and enjoy the feeling.

Usually I assume other people think more or less like I do, but I've yet to meet anyone who shared these considerations.

Time zones

The trouble with living in California is that by the time I realize, "Hmm, I'm not doing so well right now," everyone I know is asleep.

Scribble Theology: Scribbletheologyology

Big brother

Just wanted to call your attention to this.

I'm pretty uncomfortable with the idea that a venue I'm in could potentially disable the recording function on my phone (it's enough to make you wish Cisco hadn't killed the flip).  And not just because I want to go record concerts.  Seriously?  That's your concern?  How much revenue are you losing to shaky low-quality YouTube videos of an artist singing inaudible lyrics?

The more insidious use would be the installation of "no recording" signals on, say, police vehicles.

Scribble Theology: Pentecost Language and Trinitarianism