I heard on the radio that gas prices will be going up. Drat. I love these lower prices we've had lately. There are several stations around here selling gas for as low as 86 cents a gallon, and the off-brand gas is even cheaper.

We're expecting snow tomorrow night, perhaps as much as 6 inches. Double drat. I am longing for spring.

Reading: Working my way through the complete collection of Cordwainer Smith's short stories, The Rediscovery of Man. Currently on "Scanners Live in Vain."

Watching: Big on the Sci Fi channel while I work on the computer. I think we have this on tape, so I'm not sure why I'm sitting through all these commercials, especially given my anti-advertising rant in this entry. Inertia, I guess.

Subliminal

Things are fine between Tab and me today. Last night, when Tab discovered that I planned to write about our fight for this journal, he jokingly asked, "Where's my forum?" I told him nothing was stopping him from getting a free web site and posting his own version there. He protested that he didn't have time or the know-how. I told him if he wanted, I would post his story here on my site. Heck, I'd even type and code it for him. For the record, today he read what I posted and didn't object to it.

Speaking of free web sites, I may be moving from this one. Starting March 15, Xoom will be slapping their own navigational bar (which includes ads, of course) on top of everyone's pages. I absolutely hate this idea. I chose Xoom as the site for my online journal because it didn't have popups or watermarks or any of the other elements that makes some of the other free web sites, such as Geocities, so annoying. I understand that these companies are in business to make money, but I am so sick of seeing advertising everywhere.

The worst thing about advertising (aside from the fact that you can't escape it) is that it works. I didn't believe that I, too, was susceptible to the selling power of alluring images until an experience I had a few years ago. Tab and I were having dinner at the home of some friends. After dinner we had tea, and I asked for honey. Usually I drink my tea with no milk or sweetening of any kind, but for some reason that night I felt like having honey in it.

Back in those days I worked at the university, and I always had a Kate Libby calendar hanging in my office. She's a Maine artist who designs large, colorful print calendars. The next day at work, I glanced up at the calendar and noticed that the illustration for the current month (February) was of a teapot and a steaming cup of tea, with a glass jar of luscious, golden honey and a honeydripper in the foreground. I was appalled to realize how that image had worked on me subliminally, causing me to ask for honey against my usual habit. And this was an image that was not even intended as an advertisement. Up till then I had always assumed that advertising swayed only the gullible and irresolute; now I know that anyone may be susceptible.

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