Sunday, September 24, 2006

What Would Pavlov Do?

Because I have completed some of the reading for tomorrow’s Behavioral Assessment and Intervention class, I know that you’re punishing me. Sitemeter indicates the blog is averaging 9 hits per day -- 3 from my parents; 3 from my unconditionally supportive (or procrastinatory?) friends in Boston; and 3 from someone in New Orleans (who could that be?). I desire readership (the reinforcer), and when I post something halfway amusing, or juicy and self-revelatory, I am positively reinforced by increased Sitemeter hits. You’re positively reinforced too -- I hope you are, anyway -- when the post is decent. So, you keep checking the blog (the behavior under analysis).

As I haven’t finished all of the reading for my class, I cannot post anything thoughtful or rhyming. If you’re reading this post you’re receiving punishment, because this is merely my shameless attempt to study for a Behavioral Assessment and Intervention exam. Punishment begets punishment, alas.

But you should know that I’m going to Boston for a long weekend on Friday, and I promise an insightful (or heavily rhyming) post after I return. My Boston post is contingent on you continuing to read my blog (behavior). Please don’t let me down.

Unfortunately, the Boston post will probably come at least a week after I return to New Orleans, and reinforcement contingency dictates that your blog-reading (behavior) cannot be increased unless the reinforcer (my Boston post) is presented immediately following the desired behavior (blog-reading). Bugger.

Maybe we should all stick with Freud instead.

Friday, September 08, 2006

Elegy For My Emoticons

It seems I’ve o’erstepped my bounds
In making cyber smiles and frowns.
As habits go, this one needs quelling,
Lest punctuation starts rebelling.
The colon groans, then gently sighs,
“Do quit using me for eyes.
I stand for lists, objects in rows,
Not atop a hyphen nose.”
Parentheses, they cannot speak -
Too horrified and incomplete.
The left one smirks; the right one glowers,
Forced apart by unseen powers.
Letter P retracts its tongue,
“My -oor heart, -ositively stung!”
And D, alas, finds nothing funny
Its -emeanor’s -outless less-than-sunny.
Letter O is not in shock;
X desires the chance to talk.
B’s opti-wear will soon be shed,
“Contact lenses, please, instead?”
Yes, yes, my dears, I’m quite aware,
The S likes -traight, not wavy hair.
Emoticons, I’ve listened well!
But, tell me . . . might I LOL?