Tiny Town, USA – De gustibus non es disputandum, Dad always said after a couple of breakfast beers and a belch that rattled the windows in the Quonset Hut we grew up in.
Mistaking his own vulgate for a commercial jingle, Dad would then say: "Ronzoni is So Good."
We all knew exactly what he was talking about and to this day it is valuable information.
He was right: To each according to their own taste and there is no accounting for that unless you want to get to know someone really really well and for that you gotta pay.
Analysts pay for their client's maunderings at a rate equal to the cost of the Speed of Light, which has no fixed rate as yet but don't think NYSEG hasn't looked into the Skillet Second.
What is a Skillet Second? Well, here's a brief summary from Franklin Crawford's Ph.D thesis, which ranges way outside his area of expertise but don't say nothing because when the experts bitch about "generalists" you know you rattled their cages.
Skillet Seconds: A Model•Map
Definiton: "The time it takes for the sound of peeling paint to travel from inside my head to a piece of paper as an expression."
Time [Action; Ta']
Problem: How to express the time it take for the sounds of an idea (because all ideas are sounds -- tbd [to be determined) to travel from the perception of those sounds from inside the listener's head (peeling paint, for example) to a piece of paper or computer screen. That means adding another factor like the body; arm-hand-keyboard stroke -- to replicate the sound in real time in a way that is AUDIBLE or READABLE to the listener (for example, the audience -- a reader listens to their own brain when reading a book or hears the sound of a piano being played)
OVER: The ability of the Creator/Receptor of the idea to produce that sound efficiently enough to reproduce it perfectly (See "Too Effing Hard" ...]
TIMES: The ability of a Nincompoop to do so.
Time it takes for sound (S) ound to travel ( "t" or arrow) from perception (P) [hearing sound] -- ???
It All is a Work-in-Progress. And it all has to do with Chad Coles here at tinytowntimes.com saying he really missed José Feliciano.
We'd sent Chad over to Walmart to return a crapass Sunbeam humidifier (Made in China, distributed by Jarden, Inc. in Boca Raton. Fl.) to the Chinese Company where the people Are Not Happy in Their Work.
Anyway. Chad must've heard something and probably it was "Felice Navidad" because it starts up about now and doesn't stop until All The Ghosts are assembled for the holidays.
Feliciano went blind after he was born due to congenital glaucoma. He was born in Puerto Rico and raised in Spanish Harlem. He played accordion until a family friend handed him a guitar in a paper sack. It took Mr. Feliciano only a couple hours to figure out that the paper sack was not part of the guitar but by then he had already composed an astonishing number of hits like "Felice Paper Bag" which was later changed. The original has a crinkly accompaniment that only recently was adequately captured in a sound sample and immediately adopted by a PanAmerican Rap Group Called "Yes, We Have No Riega."
Don't get mad at me. I'm just The Messenger. Which is the same as saying Don't Shoot Me I'm Only the Piano Player. Which is True!
Anyway, we suggested Chad put his thoughts on paper. He signed-off with a curious new heteronym "f.al'58" and we are still puzzled by that one.
Here is Chad's Thanksgiving Day Poem: "On Missing Jose Feliciano, in IV":
On Missing Jose Felciano in IV
Call Me a Joker
Call Me a Fool
Call Me a Cab
When I'm Too Much for You.
God don't Play Poker
Or So I am Told
Felice Navidad Felice Navidad
I'm Glad I'm Not God, but
I Can Play Some Piano
And tonight A Big Ol' Schmaltz Is Coming On:
So I'm asking José –
José Feliciano! To Play
"Light My Fire" as a Trickotee Waltz
Or Hand it to Lenny – yeh
Awake in His Vault [He was blind, too, y'know?]
With only One Hand: He Was a Mighty Pianimal!
You Were Blind
Did You Meet God?
O! José Can You See
I'm in a Bit of a Bind
I'm So Far Behind!