BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

OSMOSIS [oz-moh-sis, os-] – noun – a subtle or gradual absorption or mingling.

We all learned about it in High School biology… Hell, we probably even learned about it in grade school science. I mean, I’m relatively certain I knew the word and its meaning by the 3rd grade myself. But then, that’s me…

The point here is that we’ve all heard about osmosis. We pretty much know what it is – whether it’s an amoeba eating a dead paramecium, or the way your home water filter works to remove chemicals from tap water. It’s a process that occurs in nature, and can be applied to many things. But, I’m sorry to say, learning is not one of them.

Now, while I will not deny that we “pick up” things from being around people, situations, or the like, we do NOT soak up all knowledge and experience on a subject simply because we come into contact with it. Some, yes. All of it, no.

So, what am I on about?

Well, you see, it’s like this… Several years ago I had a gal contact me on Myspace. Why she sent a friend request, I have no idea. But, she did. I accepted and next thing you know she started messaging me. Given that she was a self-described “former adult model turned Barbie soccer mom” or some such, I was wary. Still, we chatted a bit and it seemed to be all cool. No weirdness, no invites to go see nekkid pics, no “help me put a hex on my neighbor” kind of crap. Although, from the tone of her messages I had the impression she might have been a bit of a  “collector,” and by that I mean “celebrity collector.” While I don’t consider myself a celebrity by any stretch of the imagination, sometimes people see that profession of “Author” and assume such. Well, soon she informed me that she was going to rush right out and find one of my books to read.

Okay. Good deal. That’s the idea behind me being on social networking sites to begin with – generate new readers.  Apparently, it was working.

A couple of weeks went by and she contacted me again. She had procured a copy of Harm None and read it. Her message told me that she enjoyed it, BUT that she wanted to let me know that it was completely unrealistic because Rowan would have never been allowed to consult on a murder investigation.  She knew this because her father was a retired cop. And,  because of that little factoid she could detail for me, step by step, police procedure from the ground up. She had learned it all by osmosis. She then proceeded to tell me all manner of things that didn’t gibe in any way shape or form with the things that the actual, badge-wearing, gun-toting, crime-solving/preventing cops who are my friends had told me.

Go figure. During the osmosis I’m guessing that a few things got caught in the semi-permeable membrane through which all the knowledge was passing.

Okay… Let’s forget for just a moment here that the book is FICTION.

Her father was a retired cop. Not her. Her father. Again, not her.

She had never been a cop, completely unlike the cops I know who are actually accredited law enforcement officers and whom I consult about various procedures as previously noted. Nope. She wasn’t, nor had she ever been, one of them.

She was an ex adult model barbie soccer mom  something or another.

However, because her father was a retired cop she automatically knew everything there was to know about being a cop, police procedure, etc. Apparently, while at work, her father had some manner of psychic connection with her that allowed everything he knew about his job to automatically flow into her head. She didn’t actually say that, but it’s about the only thing I can imagine, because all of the cops I know don’t discuss their jobs at home all that much – especially with their kids.

Yet, because her father was a retired cop, she KNEW everything…

I realize I’m dwelling on that a bit, but I’m simply trying to make a point here. It’s pretty much as if she lived in a Holiday Inn Express, if you know what I mean. (Gratuitous stupid TV commercial reference, yes…)

So anyway, I told her, “Thanks. By the way, would you like for me to explain to you how to build an F-15 Fighter Jet?”

“How do you know how to do that?” she asked.

“Easy,” I replied. “MY father wasn’t a cop. He was a schedule planner for McDonnell-Douglas and he worked on the F-15 project. Therefore, I should be able to tell you the ins and outs of how to build one, don’tcha think?”

She didn’t find this particularly amusing. I, however, thought it was hilarious.

And so, the moral of the story is this: This ain’t your father’s diffusion of fluids through membranes or porous partitions, so quit acting like you somehow inherited his brain through your DNA or something.

OR

Stick to what you really know, not what you think you know. You’re less likely to make a fool of yourself that way.

However, if in the future I happen to have an “ex adult model turned soccer mom” as a character in a book, I know exactly who to call…

More to come…

Murv

Of course, that’s where mine usually resides, correct?

To hear some people tell it, it is. But, that’s not actually what we are here to talk about, of course…

The other day I wrote a blog about the USDA being out to get me. I still think they are. I’ve noticed way too many John Deere green trucks in the neighborhood as of late. On top of that, just the other day I found wheat chaff under one of our windows and the distinct odor of fertilizer was still hanging in the air. Of course, the fact that the FFA (Future Farmers of America) keeps calling and hanging up doesn’t help either.

But, again, not exactly what we are here to discuss… Actually, it was a comment on that particular blog that sparked this particular blog. Still with me? Good.

You see, a friend of mine – we’ll call her DeathStar, because that’s pretty much what we call her all the time anyway – pointed out that if one were to be pragmatic about it, the fact that someone from the USDA is searching me out just might be something as innocuous as an old family friend or acquaintance now working for said covert governmental organization.

Well, that’s not how my mind works. I mean, I can be pragmatic when necessary, but if it’s not, then why?

Let me give you an example. Several years ago there was a commercial for some cell phone service running on the toob. I know, I know, there are plenty of those. Unfortunately, I can’t actually remember which company this was, suffice it to say, it was in a black and white noir sort of fashion. At one point during the commercial there is this guy running across a street in slow motion as the announcer extolls the virtues of this particular service and the features it will be introducing very soon. The camera pans down and to the left, showing us a spot of color in the otherwise black and white frame – that color being a solitary, red, high-heeled pump lying in the gutter.

Upon seeing this I turned to the evil redhead, what with her being just as pragmatic as DeathStar. Besides, DeathStar wasn’t here… But, I didn’t just turn to her. I actually proceeded to ask, “What does that mean to you?”

“What?” she asked.

“That shoe in the gutter,” I explained.

Without missing a beat she replied, “Oh, that. Well, I take it to mean some woman was having a great time partying and lost one of her shoes.”

“Really?” I asked.

E K, being E K, instantly took on a stern tone. “You’re doubting me?”

“No, your worship.”

“Okay,” she pressed. “What does it mean to you?”

I shrugged. “Well, actually it raises a lot of questions for me.”

“Such as?”

“Is she still alive? Approximately when was she abducted? Were there any witnesses? Is it possible that there is any DNA evidence besides her own? Has she been reported missing yet? Are there any traffic cameras nearby? Didn’t anyone hear her scream? Was she alone? If she was with someone were they abducted too, or were they complicit? When will…”

“Okay, okay, lackey,” E K said, cutting me off.

“Well…” I grumbled. “You asked.”

“And believe me, I’m already regretting it.”

So, there you go… I guess maybe my mind really is in the gutter. Why? Because that commercial was on TV something like five years ago, and I still want to know what’s up with that shoe and why there hasn’t been an investigation launched to find out what happened to that poor woman.

More to come…

Murv