Do You Feel Lucky?

(and feel free to comment! My older posts are certainly no less relevant to the burning concerns of the day.)

Wednesday, March 31, 2010

Cruel and/or Unusual...

The ban on cruel and unusual punishment is oft-misconstrued. People seem not to realize that a punishment can be cruel - just as long as it's not also unusual! By the same token, a punishment can be unusual - just so long as it is not also cruel. The prohibition is on "cruel AND unusual", not "cruel OR unusual."

I'd argue in favor of a greater range of whimsical-and-unusual punishments, backed up by a suite of cruel-but-usual punishments that will be implemented so thoroughly across the board that their usuality can't even be questioned.

Just as a general reform measure.

Name That Tune #9!

Questions will be posted each Wednesday at noon Pacific Time, 12pm. Submit your comments NAMING THE SONG that is being paraphrased. Answers will be posted after 5pm! Once answers are posted, scoring is closed. Scoring is as follows:

First correct answerer gets: 1 point!
Tardy correct answerer gets: 0.3 point!

NAME THAT TUNE:

"I purchased my first true guitar in a small local retail establishment
I practiced on it excessively, during the hottest months of that year.
I was in a band at the time, with my scholastic chums. We did our best
eventually the others fell by the wayside. That's life, should've expected it.
As I reminisce, that season seemed interminable.
And given my druthers, that's where I'd be right now.
Those halcyon days surpassed all that came after.
Affirmative! Back during the hottest months of that particular year."

Tuesday, March 30, 2010

OMG, Guess Who's Got a Baby Blog!

Me!

Well, sort of not me, too. After I posted that Baby Names post on Saturday, I just got to thinking about how it's like everybody and their mother is starting a Baby Blog, and it just seems like so much fun that I couldn't be left out.

Now, I myself am not having a baby, but I definitely want to get in on some of that excitement. It's pretty exciting! So I want to share that excitement. The excitement of as far as I know, not being about to have a baby. Which is perhaps a different excitement from the excitement of being about to have a baby, but boy it's pretty exciting anyhow though! Isn't it? Back me up, those of you who know!

So here's the link for My Baby blog. Actually I decided to call it a "Not My Baby" Blog, but only for the sake of accuracy.

Not My Baby blog

Does this count as a meme? Baby blogging? Or perhaps even having babies is a meme. It could be.

I wonder if I should tag people on this.

Monday, March 29, 2010

Breaking News: Ricky Martin, Gay

Also, he wants to be known as "Rick Martin" now. It's part of his new manlier image.

I don't normally blog about such topical matters, but I for one am excited by this news. For too long, Elton John has held a stranglehold on the Mandatory Awards Show Duet Partner for male Rap, Rock, or R & B stars accused of homophobia.

Now don't get me wrong. Sir Elton is a legend, and it's no offense to him for me to observe this. But sometimes, his heart's just clearly not in it. When he has to get up on stage and sing some song with some of these guys, you can tell his heart's just not into it. He's very dignified and ambassadorial, he does his duty and plays his assigned role, no one can fault him on the job he does - I'm not faulting him! But you can just tell sometimes. The enthusiasm is just not there. He's getting up there because he has to, to take one for the team, just so the other guy can walk away with a clean record and no pink mark against his name. Just so society can feel like the offender has made a public show of contrition, of being on board with the program of tolerance and acceptance.

But it's hard for him! For Elton, I mean. Elton is not a fool. He has to know some of these people are straight-up haters. But society has obligated him to play this role, so he does it. It's socially-important that he does it. It's a penance of sorts, an absolution for bad behavior on the part of these young bucks, and I think it does them some good too. They walk away realizing "Hey, Elton John was pretty cool. I just sang with Elton John. Holy shit, I just sang with Elton John. I'm on a global stage. What I say influences others. Maybe I need to change my attitude a little?"

So it needs being done! The mandatory bad-behavior awards-show gay duet. But Elton can't do them all, ok? And sometimes, to be frank, some of these damn punks don't deserve to get Elton John. We almost run the risk of making it a reward, if all you have to do is spout off about gays, and next thing you know, you're singing at the Grammys with Elton John. That's almost an incentive, at that point, and I say: "No way!" There needs to be a penalty option. If Sir Elton takes a look at his next prospective duet partner, and his feeling is that he'd rather not dignify this particular up-and-coming gayer-hater, then there needs to be someone else to bring in for that duet. To make it sting a little.

So from now on, if Elton doesn't think you're sincere enough - guess what? You have to sing with Ricky Martin.

Sorry. With Rick Martin.

Mitch Hedberg RIP

Man, I wish Mitch Hedberg hadn't died. That guy was funny. Way too soon that guy died.
"Alcoholism is a disease. But it's, like, the only disease you can get yelled at for having. 'Damnit, Otto! You're an alcoholic!' 'Damnit, Otto, you have LUPUS!'"

"The depressing thing about tennis is that no matter how good I get, I'll never be as good as a wall."

"My manager saw me drinking before a show, he said 'Mitch, don't use liquor as a crutch.' I can't use liquor as a crutch because a crutch helps me walk."

"I walked by a record store and the sign out front said 'we specialize in hard to find records and tapes'...Nothing was alphabetized!"

"Financially I'm set for life, if I'm shot tomorrow."

"My dad used to be into coin collecting which was cool, because I was into video games."

"One time I stole a quarter from my dad that was supposed to be worth twenty bucks, I went to the arcade and I plugged it into the Pac Man machine thinking I'd be there all day. PAC MAN DOES NOT DO APPRAISALS!"
Man, half the stuff he said...it wasn't even the words, it was just the way he said it. He could say "Yeah I know that joke was dumb" and bring down gales of laughter.

March 29, 2005. Aged 37. Man.
"Last week I helped my friend stay put. It's a lot easier than helping someone move. I just went over to his house and made sure he did not start to load s--- into a truck."

"You know I'm sick of following my dreams, man. I'm just going to ask where they're going and hook up with them later."

Sunday, March 28, 2010

I Don't Trust The U.S. Army

I don't trust the U.S. Army. They came over the other day. I invited them in - I had just made some deviled eggs, which was a damn lucky coincidence! We sat around in the living room talking about old times. Shooting the shit. Vietnam and stuff. Of course, neither I nor they had been in that one, but we've all seen the movies and they really love to to shoot the shit about it. Don't believe people who tell you it's a sore topic! They're quite keen to discuss it.

One guy, a corporal I think, expressed impatience with the dearth of similar quality movies about modern conflicts. I told him "Give it a few more years." He shook his head sadly, saying "it's never going to happen. Vietnam tore our country apart. Its divisiveness is precisely what made it such fertile ground for filmmakers with real vision." He sipped one of my Boont Amber Ales and concluded thoughtfully, "The stuff we're doing today is just not as potent."

I had to admit, he had a point. Then we all started talking about football.

I asked one of the female soldiers if she'd let me hold her gun, but she said "No can do." She said it's kind of a policy. I feel like I've seen in movies where Army folks exercise their own judgment on stuff like that! But I guess, probably, that's a good policy for them to have overall. I didn't take it personally.

Anyway, they ate all my eggs, and they drank most of my beer and juice. Which is fine, I don't mind being a gracious host. But as they left, there was just something I couldn't put my finger on. I just don't trust that Army of ours.

I admit, I did feel extremely safe with them in the house. I was like, ooo, now would be the perfect time for some fool to try to invade!

Theology: And Then On The Other Hand,

So the question is asked: what if God doesn't exist? Well, let's say for the sake of argument that God doesn't exist. What if God doesn't exist? What then would follow? What if there is no God?

Well okay, but what if, in that scenario, God doesn't exist, but what if there were some completely different/other being who created everything, who was all-powerful, all-knowing, and who loves us? You can't rule that out!

Even if God doesn't exist, then you can't rule out this other being. Obviously if God does exist, then the idea of this other being is pretty redundant. It would never even come up. But if for the sake of argument, we agree that God doesn't exist, suddenly what about this other being.

What would you even call such a being? It's a real can of worms!

Saturday, March 27, 2010

Bat For Lashes: "What's A Girl To Do?"


Bat For Lashes: What's a Girl to Do

This is like a dream I had once. In the dream I was the tiger on the right-hand side. Except in the dream...I was on the left.

Pregnant? or Thinking About Getting Someone Pregnant? Sick of Trend-Happy Baby-Namer Sites? Try These Baby Names. Practically Nobody's Using These Baby Names.

A lot of these have the advantage of sounding kind of traditional-sounding, without being (as far as I know) actually traditional. So you won't wake up one day to find that everybody else hopped on the same name tribe trend at the same time as you (all searching the same web pages, most like) and your tyke is now one of 3 Eoins in his class. You're safe with this site as your baby-naming resource! Only like, 20 people tops ever read here, and as far as I know, only one is expecting.

Baby names away!

For a Boy (meanings for each name in "quotes"):

1. Gwennar ("far-seeing")
2. Thieb ("works with what he has")
3. Ristopher ("deadly with two blades")
4. Jickard ("surprisingly intelligent")
5. Karvald ("hard-walking stranger")
6. Gilbob ("servant of bob")
7. Rghn'chn ("dreaming of awaking")
8. Demogorgon ("prince of lies")

For a Girl (ditto, meanings in "quotes"):

1. Lyralha ("luck from the wind")
2. Owena ("water-gatherer")
3. Jaspette ("finder of lost stars")
4. Aesthae ("broken by faith in fate")
5. Jennifer (meaning unknown, possibly made-up)
6. Charltholomew ("filler of fine barrels")
7. Raeselle ("woman of two minds")
8. Berticia (female equivalent of Bert. You can do this with a lot of other boy names using the ol' +icia, no need for me to spell that one out. Johnnyicia. Christophericia.)

So as you can see, apart from that last one, there are no formulas. Just pick one you like and run with it. It could be one from these lists, or from some other list. Or you could try a random name generator of some kind, and end up with a kid named IJNID or ELPO.

Once you have the name picked out, you may not yet be home free. If you're having trouble getting pregnant, keep trying. I find one thing that helps is, if both of you focus on the baby's name that you're "trying for", and then when the right time comes, yell that out. Yell out the baby-name. It just sort of reinforces your shared openness, to bringing that new life into the world. Plus, it's kind of a fairness issue for the prospective kid. I know a lot of kids who, if their parents had been shouting out the name they were going to end up getting saddled with at the crucial moment, that kid would have been like, "uh...maybe I'll try for a spot over in Indonesia, instead."

Note: dudes. If you're going to go for the baby-calling strategy, make sure you've made it plain with your partner beforehand that that is what you're doing. It's not going to serve as a plausible after-the-fact excuse. "Who the hell is Lyralha?"

More of Many Claims to Fame

I'm like, the superstar of anonymity.

Quote of the Day: Subjective

"I'll take the subjectivity of spectacular minds over the objectivity of fools."

Friday, March 26, 2010

I'm Only Going To Say This Once, #1

I'm only going to say this once so take notes.

I'm only going to say this once, so. You know.

I'm only going to say this once, so if you need to hear it again, listen to it twice the first time.

I'm only going to say this once, so I damn well better not stutter.

I'm only going to say this once, so maybe I'll hold off a while. Let the suspense build.

I'm only going to say this once, so savor every word.

I'm only going to say this once, so don't tell me I told you already.

I'm only going to say this once, so it can't be all that important.

I'm only going to say this once, so think really hard before you make your comeback. No "do-overs."

I'm only going to say this once, so holla if you hear me!

I'm only going to say this once, but that's not a hard and fast policy or anything.

I'm only going to say this once, but I forgot what.

Doodeloo #40: The MerUniFaerie

The MerUniFaerie

A Little About My Cheese Cellar

So I've got a cheese cellar. I keep my cheeses down there. You can tell I'm serious about cheese. You can tell, because I say "cheeses." "I keep my cheeses down there." Emphasizing the separateness, distinctness, and multifariousness of the cheeses. Because you could have all different kinds and types of cheeses and still just say, "What's down there? Oh, you know. Cheese." That's perfectly accurate - it's all cheese. There's no point at which the addition of varieties or large volumes forces the "s" at the end. It's a deliberate choice to underscore something. When people ask me and I say, "Oh, that's my cheese cellar. That's where I keep my cheeses," - they immediately think, "ah, cheeses. The unnecessarily emphatic plural - this guy's serious about cheese."

Which I am. It's not a pose! I've got a cheese cellar.

It's all cow cheese down there. No goat cheese. I like goat cheese, but only if somebody else deals with it, and it just shows up on the plate, well-used. Besides, why is goat cheese so loddy-doddy hoity-toity trendy-dendy when goat meat is so far down the upscale that it's considered to be...how delicately do I need to put this..."the exclusive province of immigrants"? I don't know if that was delicately or not. Don't tell me "because goat meat is so pungent!" Yes, it is. So's the cheese. That's another reason not to put it in my cheese cellar. It smells ripe enough down there as it is!

Some of those cheeses down there, I honestly probably ought to be keeping in the fridge. It doesn't do them any good down there, in the dark and dry and musty cellar. But what's the point in having a cheese cellar at all, and then you keep your cheeses in the fridge? Jeez. Besides, no way will all that cheese fit in the fridge. I'd have to take all the juice, milk, eggs, meat and beer down to the cellar in that event. I might be able to get away with that in the case of the meat. Like, if I smoked it? But I daresay smoked juice, milk, or beer is not going to be a refreshing beverage option. "Smoked eggs" actually sounds pretty good! But I don't know the procedure on that. Anyway, you don't really want to keep any of that in a cheese cellar! You're going against the purpose.

I'm a little bit worried about what must be going on down there in that cheese cellar. I don't like to go down there. There's no light, so I have to bring a flashlight with me, and invariably one big hunk of cheese at random will have turned into like, a chia-pet. Big green halo of a mold afro. Mold like wheatgrass, I swear - I didn't even know mold stalks could grow that long, before I got that cheese cellar! That's why I hate to go down there. I hate to see which of my beloved cheeses has succumbed. At some point, if I wait too long, I know probably I'm going to have to go down there and just throw all that cheese out. I'm dreading it.

What am I going to do when that happens? What am I going to do with the cellar?

Doodeloo #39: A Dry-Erase Me

Photobucket
Once more back to the self-portraiture well.

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

Here's To Ya, "Maestro of the March"

John Philip Sousa was the American Beethoven. And all that that entails.

Can you imagine if Sousa had been alive back in those days?? He would have been a sensation! Imagine those parochial rubes who were so scandalized by the first performance of Beethoven's 5th. Now picture Sousa stepping out and hitting a crowd like that between the eyes with The Washington Post March!

Admittedly, that piece would probably not then have been called "The Washington Post March." But Opus #G or whatever it would then have been called, Sousa would have taken that piece and knocked those people out of their god-damned skulls with it! Their minds, their very hearts would have been in a riot, but their bodies would be held transfixed (apart from involuntarily-tapping toes). They would have been all "Here, zen, is ze new master of a form so pure, so bdrdrute, yet so majestic, that a special sort of tuba may need to be invented in order to do due justice to it properly! At some point!"

I'm not so adept at typing the fake German accent, I guess. I tried to roll the 'r' there a little, on "brute." Not sure it reads.

It goes without saying that he would have to have been in Germany, or Vienna, or Austria or the vicinity. That's where the whole hot scene was at that point! Over here, it was all a fife and a fiddle and a yankedy-doo-dah-yay. Music of that rustic sort could afford no real outlet for a man of Sousa's colossal talent. No, he was born to stir the nether ethers of heaven, with a more orchestral strain.

The problem is, he came along too late. By his time, music had been kind of shunted to the side. It was ceding center stage, becoming more used as an accompaniment, not as the main event. So he did what he could to ennoble its diminishing purpose. Rah.

Rah.

Name That Tune #8!

Questions will be posted each Wednesday at noon Pacific Time, 12pm. Submit your comments NAMING THE SONG that is being paraphrased. Answers will be posted after 5pm! Once answers are posted, scoring is closed. Scoring is as follows:

First correct answerer gets: 1 point!
Tardy correct answerer gets: 0.3 point!

NAME THAT TUNE:

"Don't inform my primary circulatory organ
My pained, prone-to-malfunction primary circulatory organ
It is my belief that it will not comprehend this.
However, if you inform my primary circulatory organ,
My pained, prone-to-malfunction primary circulatory organ,
The possibility exists that it might detonate and kill me."

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

Doodeloo #38: The Turkey Who Can Fly

This turkey can fly. Look at those awesome, non-vestigial wings.

Plenty of Blog Post Ideas! Pt.2

Wait, though! I'll draw you something.

Plenty of Blog Post Ideas!

I'm just not really feeling it. Not feeling the juice, to execute.

Don't worry, though. I save the ideas!

Monday, March 22, 2010

Satire Doesn't

Satire doesn't have to be funny!

It just has to be insincere.

Masterpieces of The Obvious #1: The Physics of Soup, Specifically, the Process of Heat Exchange So Essential to Its Hot Deliciousness

A lot of people eat soup. It's tasty, that's for damn sure. But not a lot of people inquire too deeply into the physics of soup, specifically, the process of heat exchange that is so essential to its hot deliciousness*.

Well, I thought about it. Here are my conclusions, presented in the form of a series of drawings. I think you will find the facts they present to be quite inescapable.

STAGE 1.

See how cold everything is. In the drawing, cold is represented by blue, tinging ever redder as it warms. You're not eating blue soup! Blue just signifies cold. This is a general feature of science-based drawings, so if you don't want to live your life in ignorance - get used to it.

STAGE 2.

Ignition. But ho!: everything's still cold! This is because heat exchange is a process. It takes time. Space and time, and heat. Physics.

STAGE 2 1/2.

The metal heats up quickly! See how the soup itself is still cold, through and through. Intriguing. We will watch this pot closely, if for no other reason than to test the validity of an old, dubious saw.

STAGE 3.

We now see the liquid medium ("broth") begin to warm. The heat rises, creating circular arrows. This is called The Bessemer Process.

STAGE 4.

The broth is now quite warm, but look how cold the ingredients still are! The requisite heat exchange has not yet occurred.

STAGE 5.

The broth is hot. The ingredients are beginning to warm. DON'T STOP! Look, see how some of the thicker ingredients are still cool in the center. Ugh! To bite into that!

STAGE 6.

Everything in this soup is hot. The broth is boiling! Time to turn the heat down, stir, let everything finish heating evenly.

STAGE 7.

Okay, this soup is now way too hot to eat. PERFECT. Serve. Careful! It's hot.

We now move from the province of hard science to the softer discipline of etiquette. But our conclusions here can be no less unyielding! Soup should always be served just a little too hot to eat. This allows the eater to control the temperature at which they wish to consume their soup - tentatively at first, perhaps. Blowing on shallow spoonsful. Then, with ever-increasing gusto and rapidity as the temperature nears their ideal "GO! FOR SOUP CONSUMPTION" window.

That's all there is to it. Okay, except I haven't done the drawings yet.

Well, you can probably just imagine. Pretend it's like the old days, everybody gathered around the radio cabinet. Sippin' on hot soup. Imagining the visuals.

Sunday, March 21, 2010

Quote of the Day

"This film has all the suspense of a Lou Bega concert."

Faith Is Easy, When You Know Everything

I admit it. God had some doubts, for a while. Strong doubts. Some severe misgivings. God's faith in me was sore tested. There were times when it just seemed impossible to believe that a benevolent me could possibly allow certain things to happen, when clearly, anyone could see that it was in my power to stop them.

But ultimately, God passed through that period of trial and test. That time when I was testing that infinite patience of God's, stretching it almost beyond its infinite limits. Until finally, God came through it. God came out on the other side: convinced. Finally, God had come to believe in something infinitely lower than Godself.

God believes in me.

And with that belief? A sense of peace, perhaps.

At least, I'd like to think so.

Friday, March 19, 2010

I'm Having a Hard Time Taking Kierkegaard Seriously

I'm reading The Sickness unto Death, okay?, and I tell you: it's pretty dry, heavy going. I'm not sure I'm getting nearly as much out of it as he put into it. So yeah, on one level, he's clearly Søren Fucking Kierkegaard, right? An intellect of a rare order, the sort of mind that I can readily admit that maybe I can't hang in with. Sure, I have no problem with that. I am not Søren Fucking Kierkegaard, and he is. I've never been under any illusions otherwise.

But at the same time, then he goes and says something like this:

"Socrates proved the immortality of the soul from the fact that the sickness of the soul (sin) does not consume it as the body's sickness consumes the body."

- The Sickness unto Death by Søren Fucking Kierkegaard, translated by Alastair Fucking Hannay

How am I supposed to evaluate a statement like that? It's just loopy. It's like saying "Socrates proved bacon was made out of rainbows from the fact that pigs do not crap lightning." It doesn't seem possible for a first-class mind like Kierkegaard to put forth reasoning like this in a book with his own name on it. It's like if Kierkegaard had a pseudonym for his philosophical erotica, maybe he might put that kind of reasoning out under that pen name. To keep the Kierkegaard brand relatively respectable, right? Put it out under a pen-name! If I were his editor, I'd have said, "Søren. You just can't put that in there. It's preposterous. Slip it into your next 'Lucien Dagways' caper, where people will be too distracted by all the existential nipple-licking to give it a serious critique."

I would have been an awesome editor for these big-name Serious Philosophers, man. Back when there were any!

So yes, I'm sure you could say "Joe. If there's one thing we know about Søren Fucking Kierkegaard, it's that he was a pretty sincere Christian. I think what we're seeing here, is his Christian perspective coloring his views on the existence of the soul - to some extent, this is only to be expected." Well maybe so. But that raises another problem.

Now I'm having a hard time taking Socrates seriously.

Thought of the Day: From Life

A lot of people...it's like all they care about is what they can get out of life. Me, I'm more interested in what I can stick into it. I find that works better.

You'd be surprised how much fits.

What I'm Going To Refer To Myself As From Now On #4

From now on, I'm going to refer to myself as "The Precipice."

The Precipice.

That'll allow me to say stuff like: "Don't mess with The Precipice." Or, "Step away from The Precipice." I think it works.

The Precipice.

Is that how you spell it? It looks really weird.

The Precipice.

Maybe it's just the capitalization. Making it look weird.

The precipice.

The Precipice.

The precipice.

I think it definitely needs to be capitalized. It loses heft, otherwise.

Remember, when you look over The Precipice, The Precipice looks you over as well.

You might want to consider keeping well back. From The Precipice.

Thursday, March 18, 2010

Thought of the Day: Kung Fu

A pool hall is probably about the worst place in the world to f*** with Jackie Chan.

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

I Don't Believe In Sharks

Sharks are a myth. An urban legend. These creatures don't exist. Big gray things? Shaped like torpedos? Great big gaping maws, with rows upon rows of razor sharp teeth? PLEASE. This is real life, not some fairy-tale monsterland. Grow up!

Sharks were invented by the man, to keep us out of the water and in our place: on land. The man knows that if everybody had an ocean, across the U.S.A., and they didn't think there were sharks in it, they'd all be frolicking and splashing around and at one with each other and with nature, and there's no way under those conditions that the man could enforce his ironclad wage-slave hold on the general populace. The man saw the beach, and it was good. The man took one look at it and said: "WHOA. We need to invent some totally spurious menace, that will keep them out of the ocean and under our control, and whatever we invent even though it sounds like some ridiculous monster, the people will believe it because they're stupid and big-time gullible. Because YOU, THE PERSON READING THIS WHO BELIEVES IN THE EXISTENCE OF SHARKS, IS GULLIBLE AND STUPID. BIG-TIME."

That's just what the man said, and damn if you didn't come along to prove it true. Are you proud of yourself? Are you proud of yourself for believing in sharks?

Occasionally a "shark sighting" or even a "shark attack" is trotted out before the credulous public, to shore up the whole gag. As if that could be convincing! One good look at the movie Jaws is enough to show us that the technology is there to fake it (and going back to the pre-technological era doesn't work either! If you want to believe historical accounts of "shark encounters," you might as well go in for DRAGON SIGHTINGS! That sounds real reliable - SARCASM!). And that whole Discovery Channel "Shark Week" - a scam to sell advertising and promote the indiscriminate mongering of fear. They're in on it. Those sharks are totally CGI. Another easy trick, such as might gull a child.

Our problem is, we swallow it up as a child. They tell us "sharks," and we believe it. And then we never, ever grow up enough to question the assumption.

Sharks. Please. Sharks?

PLEASE.

Simple As That! #3: Rights

A right is not something you lack, that the government has to give you. A right is something you already have, that the government is not permitted to take away.

Name That Tune: New Twist on Scoring Going Forward!

The scoring stands at Mel & Elliott - tied at (3) apiece! Sean in 3rd place with (1).

The whole "winner take all" stance appeals to a certain side of me: the rough, jungle-hewn, rippling side - all gnashing jaws and powerful, poking fingers. But I think it also adds a note of futility, for those who happen along a bit late. Even though more than once, the big winner has happened along late and still been the first one to get it right, still, if the puzzle has been open for hours, you may tend to feel "why bother? Surely someone else has gotten it by now." So in the end, you're discouraged from posting at all.

That's why I'm tweaking the scoring. Being the first correct guesser is still the only way to win big - the whole point. But now, or rather, but going forward, a tardy correct guess counts for something! 0.3 of a point!

A half a point for a late guess would be too much. Throw the scoring dynamic out of whack.

Wrong guesses, or guesses that merely hint around at the song without actually naming it, still count for a big zero (0) points.

Hey that looks like a boob. Kind of. Maybe not.

OK! So to recap, then, and subsequently charge forward! Previous setup was:


Note: questions will be posted each Wednesday at noon Pacific Time, 12pm. Submit your comments NAMING THE SONG that is being paraphrased. Answers will be posted after 5pm! First correct answer wins!

Beginning next week:


Questions will be posted each Wednesday at noon Pacific Time, 12pm. Submit your comments NAMING THE SONG that is being paraphrased. Answers will be posted after 5pm! Once answers are posted, scoring is closed. Scoring is as follows:

First correct answerer gets: 1 point!
Tardy correct answerer gets: 0.3 point!

In this way, even if you know you are probably too late to win the top score, you can still get partial credit for guessing right (right up until the answers are posted).

I'm not going back and making it retroactive. You can't change the rules backwards. That's unprincipled.

Name That Tune #7!

"We have liberty together.
We would have liberty apart.
I try to express my emotions in words, but it's like a flood pouring into an inadequate vessel.
A military engagement looms - a considerable number of military engagements result in defeats, but
the highway continues always if we're on it together.

There there, there there. Don't imagine this is the end.
There there, there there. When life and people interfere,
they interfere for the purpose of keeping us apart
You're certain they'll fail in that!

My car is all fucked up. The things I own, cause me misgivings.
You ignore the news coverage of violence and loss,
turning to the entertainment section instead to see what's on telly

There there, there there. Don't imagine this is the end.
There there, there there. When life and people interfere,
they interfere for the purpose of keeping us apart
You're certain they'll fail in that!

With a steady rhythm, I'm out on a walk - measuring how far until I reach you.
The sun's near the horizon, so that the world's shadow falls just over your house,
Freedom is starting to feel familiar.

But there there, there there. Don't imagine this is the end.
There there, there there. When life and people interfere
they interfere for the purpose of keeping us apart
You know they will fail in this.

You must make them fail in this, always."


Note: questions will be posted each Wednesday at noon Pacific Time, 12pm. Submit your comments NAMING THE SONG that is being paraphrased. Answers will be posted after 5pm! First correct answer wins!

On 'Mairzy Doats'

Okay, mares I can understand. But where the fuck do does get oats?

Who is feeding these does oats? Screw that! Those oats are for the mares!

Let the does go eat a shrubbery.

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

Unsolicited Ad Campaigns #3: Enjoy! Coke And Christ!

IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER: This ad campaign does not reflect the views of any corporation, brand or entity. This is a fan-made production, completely unsolicited. No prominent soft-drink brand or global religious behemoth had any input whatsoever into the development of this campaign. I have received no compensation for this campaign from either the Coca-Cola Corporation or from Jesus Christ.
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So this is the first one, the big rollout. If this goes over well, picture a whole series of installments in my forthcoming "Coca-Cola Brands: The Official Soft Drinks of Religious Belief!" mega-campaign. I'm thinking Abraham for Coke Classic, Muhammed for Coke Zero, Krishna for Coke Lime. That Mormon Guy could get Diet Coke, I guess. Maybe Buddha for Sprite, that seems fair. And on and on! So many religions and wonderful Coke products to choose from. There would be the whole lineup of the big-time heavy-hitters of religious belief, and a beverage for each! And not only a beverage for each of them - a beverage for each of their devout followers. Ahhhhhh, now that's refreshment for body and spirit.

This is an approach that hasn't been tried, but I think this kind of targeting could be pretty intriguing, results-wise.

Hey Pepsi, I haven't forgotten about you! Wait 'til you see who I've got lined up for your brands.

Hint: Darwin gets Diet Pepsi.

Blogging: Kind of a Funny Word, Isn't It?

Fun to say, though. "Web logging" wouldn't have worked as a verb version - it sounds like you're cutting down internet trees!

I thought in the new Star Trek, maybe they should have had Kirk have a blog, you know, just to update it a bit? That whole "Captain's log" thing - kind of passe. It could be like (oh, *SPOILERS*, I guess):
"Captain's blog. Stardate: random series of numbers that geeks will try to retroactively fashion into some more-or-less-meaningful code. Man, you won't believe what happened to me today, guys. What a weird day. I thought I'd never top that whole too-cool-for-school apple-chomping simulation hack, but I have to admit this tops that. So anyway, the fleet was attacked and destroyed by some weird Cthulu-looking mothership, that was sticking halfway out of a black holy warpy deal. Apparently, future Spock pissed these guys off, and they came back in time for revenge on the whole Federation! LOL, overreact much? (Still, you almost can't blame them - that Spock guy's a real tool, I cannot imagine he improves much with age). Luckily we got to the ambush too late to help, thanks to Sulu goofing around with the parking brake. So we didn't get destroyed like the others, but anyway, that bald guy (some kind of Xtreme Vulcan or something?) kidnapped our captain! So I get to be captain. All in all, pretty big day but I'm kind of tired."

Monday, March 15, 2010

The Slippery Slope Cuts Both Ways

So in 2006, New York City's Board of Health voted to ban trans fats in city restaurants. That ban took effect in 2008.

Next up? Salt. A bill has been introduced in the New York State Assembly to forbid chefs in every restaurant in the state from using any salt at all in food preparation.

So.

Clearly, the first ban must be struck down.

Clearly, legislators are fucking morons, with all the discipline and self-restraint of diaper-crapping toddlers. They are incapable of NOT taking a bad precedent and running with it. Once you've set the precedent, to the freaks who live only to control the actions of others, the thinking always becomes: "Victory! We banned this! So - why can't we ban this?" "We restricted this - why can't we restrict this?"

We must come up with a new "proper response" to this tactic. Every single time this argument comes into play, we must eradicate the idea that it is a proper response to take a look at extending the restrictive principle. The proper response must be rather: to take a look at obliterating the bad precedent. The pertinent question isn't: "If we can ban trans fats, why can't we ban salt?" The pertinent question is: "If we can ban trans fats, why can't we un-ban trans fats?" Nothing's stopping us!

A bad precedent is anything that encourages cowards to expand their dominion over your life. A bad precedent can be struck down. The slippery slope was once level ground. If the fetishests of public-sector intrusion can't seem to know when they need to stop tilting, still the tilt of that slippery slope can be arrested. It can be seized by the downward-tilting end, it can be lifted back up to level. It can be titled back in the other direction. This not only can be done, it should be done. The greater good at stake is in fact, the greatest possible public policy good of all: To Teach Those Pricks A Fucking Lesson.

Fat will kill us? Salt will kill us? Heck with it - Life will kill us. Whether we live free or enchained, life will kill us! If I must die by living free, "Live Free and Die" applies. We are all going to die, regardless.

I'm happy enough with the current status quo of some limited restriction and control, I suppose. I don't mind letting them sit on the status quo of prohibition's gains made. But that's a provisional approval. I don't mind, just as long as it's not pushed further. If the control freaks can't bring themselves to heel, then it's time to start tilting the slippery slope back the wrong way - by their way of thinking. Criminalize tobacco? Oh, naw. Now that you mention it, let's legalize marijuana. Or if you want to keep pushing? Then let's legalize cocaine & heroin as well. Wanna save lives? Get these dangerous drugs under FDA regulation and produced only by GMP manufacturers!

Freedom stings a bit, but it's ultimately worth it.

Thought of the Day: Balanced

Equilibrium is far easier to keep than to restore.

When the Work-Day Is Done, Another Monday Come and Gone...

Did you work hard today? Did you give it your all? Did you get the job done? Did you get ahead of it, stay even with it, keep on top of it or at least, catch up with it a bit? Did you kick ass, with or without the taking of names?

What about putting out fires. Did you do any of that? Sometimes, that's what it takes to get the job done. You have to put out a few fires. Can't work while you're burning - it's kind of an OSHA violation, for one thing. To say nothing about the discomfort, and probable deleterious effects on morale. Air quality, etc.

Teamwork is important, but I've got nothing to say about that here. Because here you are, the lone soloist - still sawing away at that cello after the rest of the orchestra's packed up and gone home. Purely for the love of it.

Well I for one am standing up. I for one, applaud.

Set it down, now. Stand up and stretch. Take a bow, and the rest of the night off. You've earned it.

Most People Who LOL Are LOLiars.

I think most people who LOL are LOLiars. They didn't really Laugh Out Loud. They just typed "LOL"!

I can tell when it wasn't sincere.

Sunday, March 14, 2010

Put a Face to the Name

The weird thing about trade shows is, there are thousands of people there, and you know you recognize a ton of them, but sometimes you can't be sure if you recognize them from the last seven trade shows you went to, or if they just resemble one of those actors who you've seen in a bunch of things but whose name you can't remember either. So there's always that awkward moment where you try to place them, and end up saying "Ooh! I know! You were in Heat with Al Pacino and Val Kilmer!"

Thursday, March 11, 2010

a lot of sayings are stupid

For instance, take
"fools rush in where angels fear to tread."
- that's stupid! Why even bring angels into it? First, they're indestructible, like that episode of Highway to Heaven where that whole shotgun blast just caromed right off Michael Landon's chest. So it's stupid to say they fear to tread anywhere!

That saying is basically more insulting to angels than it is to fools. It's basically calling angels cowards, afraid where they shouldn't be. If what you want is to talk about fools, and not about angels, which it probably is, then you could get the idea across a lot better with something more to-the-point. A better saying would be something like:
"Fools are fucking stupid."

POINT MADE.

If you've got to say something, say it! Don't use some stupid saying, just because you heard it once or twice and a couple of the words fit.

Doodeloo #37

waiter

Wednesday, March 10, 2010

Name That Tune #6!

"These are the things you could have:
an iron horse (provided you supply the necessary infrastructure)
a winged conveyance (provided you reinstate your excellent weather)
Simply beckon to me. For your all your requirements, I will provide.
Yours (if you wish): a prominent constellation,
moving not only along the vertical axis in both directions,
but also swerving laterally;
or a fun small car, to deliberately crash!
Fun of this kind continues interminably.
My desire is to be like unto a maul for your purposes
beckon to me, using my moniker!
Permit me to be like unto a maul in your possession
Consider this a sworn statement."


Note: questions will be posted at 9am each Wednesday. Submit your comments NAMING THE SONG that is being paraphrased. Answers will be posted after 5pm! First correct answer wins!

REVISED NOTE: Next week and thereafter, questions will be posted at 12pm (Noon) each Wednesday.

A Relationship Is A Two-Way Street

Well, isn't it? Help me out here, they say: a relationship is a two-way street.

Right?

So I've heard.

But see, I don't understand how that can possibly work. It's supposed to be, each of you has to go - it has to go both ways, right! Right? Hence the two-way street. But as soon as you get past this pretty superficial level, it's a horrible, bad, horrific dynamic to apply to a relationship. Come on! She's coming your way, you're coming hers, but if either of you ever tries to come a little over, over to the other's side - it's death. Head-on collision.

I think a relationship should be more like a divided highway. That just seems a lot safer.

Tuesday, March 09, 2010

"For The Camera"

be a model
or just look like one,
your every passing moment
is immortalized forever
for security purposes

try the shirt on - for the camera
check the mirror - for the camera
make it pretty - for the camera
and smile

everywhere you go the satellite
can see the color of your eyes
and everywhere you drive
the CIA can read your license plate

you think that you're alone,
well maybe sometimes you're alone
but then you never really know
so just be sure you're looking great

fix your makeup - for the camera
kiss your darling - for the camera
look excited - for the camera
and smile

draw the curtain - for the camera
take your clothes off - for the camera
turn the light out - for the camera
and smile

every moment of your life
somewhere, somebody will rewind it
and replay it super slow-mo
with an eye toward form and content

and you think that you're alone
well maybe sometimes you're alone
but then you never really know
so just make sure you look innocent

bear your children - for the camera
wide and open - for the camera
make it pretty - for the camera
and smile

check the mirror - for the camera
fake expressions - for the camera
look convincing - for the camera
and smile

break the window - for the camera
look defiant - for the camera
make it pretty - for the camera
and smile

paranoia - for the camera
look around you - for the camera
feel much better - for the camera
and smile

for the camera

Doodeloo #36: Hut! Hut! Hut!

Why do they always say "hut! hut! hut!" anyway?

These days it should be more like "mansion! mansion! mansion!"
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Ugh. Good Morning

Some days, you wake up on the wrong side of the bed, and man, it's cramped under there. All those shoes.

Monday, March 08, 2010

Help With An Idiomatic Expression

So anyway, the guy says "you don't want to upset the whole duck and bird pond!"


Now, hang on there. I'm reasonably sure that's not a real idiomatic expression. "Upset the duck and bird pond"? Ducks are birds. But that's not even the point though, that minor redundancy is the least of our worries, here! Nobody says "upset the whole duck and bird pond." It doesn't mean anything. How do you upset a pond? Tip it over? Or just...say something really mean to it, in pond-language?

From context, I could tell he meant that we didn't want to upset the whole apple-cart, or do whatever you do to a whole shooting-works to render it inoperable. But that's a far cry from any kind of duck and bird pond. Can anyone think of what he might have meant to say, here? Is there some saying that's close, that I'm missing? I feel like there is! It's driving me crazy.

I would have asked him myself, but, you know. Negotiations were a bit touchy. I didn't want to upset the whole duck and bird pond.

Let's Call This The Monday Work Post

The Monday work post this week is that work this week is going to pre-empt every other regularly scheduled post except for Wednesday's "Name That Tune", which is already ready to go and pre-scheduled to hit at 9am.

Apologies for the hectic. Back to normal next week-ish, most likely.

EDIT: of course, if I get a chance I might slip in a few random posts, on a "catch as catch can" basis!

Sunday, March 07, 2010

Sunday God Post: Nearly Didn't Get This In Under The Wire!

Religion is any system designed to help us understand God, or celebrate God's love. Its perversion occurs when adherents choose to relate to the system (and its rules, rituals, liturgies) instead of to God. To use religion as a wall of comfort between them and God.

This doesn't make religion bad, only misused.

Saturday, March 06, 2010

Breakfast! The Important Way to Start The Day!

Today I fixed myself a variation on the Traditional Australian Breakfast - as laid out by dear reader Mel (hi Mel!). My variation was, instead of taking the Weetabix, pouring the milk on and topping with a few canned pear halves and some juice spooned over, I put in the Weetabix first, then the pears, and then I put the juice straight onto the Weetabix, so it soaked in a little. Then the milk. Actually, for all I know, Mel does it that same way.

I also fried up a couple eggs, over-medium, and toasted two english muffins. That sounds like a lot of carbs, but don't worry! I needed both those english muffins - one of them (two halves) got the egg on it - cut in strips and quickly lifted and piled on top of the crunchy muffin, in a yolky heap of eggy goodness! The other muffin (two halves) got the jam. So, it was necessary. I needed both.

Can I say here, I love the yolk? When I take my eggs fried, I always go over-medium, because I like to have a bit cooked hard to go with the runny, and also because I think the yolk benefits from the extra cook time / heat exposure. But I need that hot liquid yolk, golden and tasty! It just runs down into all your nooks and crannies, or soaks into the toast you use to sop up the plate. I love getting my biscuits and gravy involved in the egg yolk, that sticky complicity completes a breakfast mystery. I love getting yolk into the hash browns or home fried potatoes. Some yolk just makes everything breakfasty turn extra delicious! Even when you have a tall stack of flapjacks, and they put the egg on the same plate, and you groan - because really they should give you a side-plate right? Because the syrup...! But you don't complain or ask for a side plate, you just determine to manipulate things carefully. To avoid any noxious mixture. Or so you tell yourself. When inevitably you get a little yolk in the maple syrup, you act all "aw man!" - but secretly, you are all about that bit of cross-contamination! And soon you're "accidentally" getting some yolk on the pancakes too, as you sop the plate with a big forkful of sliced pancake. Aw yeah. You know you secretly love it.

Speaking of nooks and crannies, I conducted a bit of an experiment as well, vis-a-vis the muffins. You know how normally you pains-takingly pull the muffin halves apart, and sometimes it doesn't go well? Well, since I was toasting two, I pulled one apart with my bare hands as usual, and the other I cut clean through with a knife. I wanted to see which method produced superior nook and cranny action.

I thought I was being all scientific, but then I goofed it! Now I'm going to have to repeat the experiment, at some point. It wasn't quite conclusive. For it to have been a fair trial, I should have switched up halves, so that one of each (cut vs. pulled apart) got the egg, and one of each got the jam. That would have been a fair comparison - bite for bite.

My initial impression was, the cut had a slight edge on nooks, but the pulled-apart just killed it on the crannies.

When I Was 5, I Wanted to Be a Paleontologist. #5

The funny thing is, I'm kind of glad now I didn't go that route. I have a feeling that life may not have been the life for me.

I'm at peace with it.

When I Was 5, I Wanted to Be a Paleontologist. #4

I really put a lot of thought into it too, at the time. I don't know what happened. I guess I got distracted. First Grade happened, and they kept teaching me all these things that had nothing to do with my chosen career. As time goes by, you surrender to the grind and forget what the dream used to be.

Quote of the Day

"The worst part about love is the memory of it."

- ok, I just made that up, but it's still a good quote.

"Chip Away The Stone" - Aerosmith



"Chip Away The Stone" - Aerosmith

Aw yeyas! Ka-Rock-a-Rock-A-rock-A-ROCK-Kahhhh! No wait, that's not what he says. He says, ack-ack-ackack-ack-ack-OW! OW! OWWWW! AKKA-AKKA-AKKA-OW!!!

I was pretty close. He doesn't say that in this song anyway.

This is pretty much my favorite song of theirs. Yeah, I know. Kind of a dark horse pick. It's just emblematic of how I roll.

Friday, March 05, 2010

Haughty Asides, Science-Wise

"I also don't believe in time travel. It is theoretically possible, but only due to a weakness in current theory."

A Fairy Tale

Come and sit down, child. Sit you in the warmth of my cheery fire's glow! Sit on my blackened hearthstones, as I tell you my tale: The Tale Of The Lad Who Wasn't Merry, And Who Met A Girl To Prove His Love Upon, And Was Tasked With A Quest, And Fought A Giant, And Died; His Name Was Billtholomew.

Once in a great long while ago, in a quiet country village on the outskirts of the Ancient Yulby Forest, tucked into the Country of Tisovthy, across the Low Sea from the Kingdom of Orientar, there lived a lad who wasn't merry, who simply refused to be merry. His name was Billtholomew, but this was not the trouble. Nobody knew what the trouble was. Nobody could puzzle it out.

"Billtholomew, what would it take for you to be merry?" his dear Mother pled.

"Nothing, Mother, but to meet a girl upon whom to prove my love!" Billtholomew replied.

"Billtholomew, tell us - why will you not be merry? What would it take for you to be merry?" his dear Papa plied.

"Nothing Papa, but to meet a girl upon whom I could prove my love!" Billtholomew stalwartly maintained.

"Mama, what will we do with the boy?" said Papa, later, when Billtholomew was out of earshot, shucking cows for the tallow-mill. "It's a mystery, Papa," she wisely replied. "Who knows what ails him - or when the cloud of unmerriment will lift from his brow?"

"He's such a clean-featured boy," Papa frowned. "It would be a shame to see his brow thicken with heaviness, all over this lack of merriment!" "Indeed it would, Papa," Mother sighed. A Mother's sigh over her son who will not be merry is a heartbreaking sigh!

But no one could figure out what to do with the lad. It was a bit of a puzzle.

One day a young lady came to the village, or maybe she lived on the other side, or had previously been kept indoors, and this was just the first time Billtholomew had seen her. His eyes gaped. She carried a wide wicker basket spilling over with wildflowers, with violet and honeysuckle. Billtholomew ran to present himself before her. It was only about ten steps, yet he had to catch his breath!

"I," he swept off his rather florid hat with a gallant gesture and a half-bow, "am called Billtholomew" he panted.

"Hello, Billtholomew," she smiled shyly, but possibly also with another meaning or feeling that was hard to guess, or so Billtholomew suspected at any rate. "I am Claritha."

Billtholomew hesitated. "Clarissa?"

She glared back: "Claritha!

"A thousand pardons! Claritha! For my whole life - or since, you know, past a certain point, when I began to understand certain things and be confused by other things - I have longed for one thing and one thing only: a girl upon whom I could prove my love!" He announced this as something terribly important. His eyes looked at her with extra emphasis.

"Oh?" replied Claritha.

"Um. Yes," continued Billtholomew, "and never before have I been so smitten and besotted and struck with awe and thunder! Your sweetness, your charms, your general deportment has convinced me that you are the girl upon whom I can prove my love - if only you will say you will give me a chance to do so!"

"Ah." Claritha mused.

"Oh, say that you will give me a chance! I will attempt anything even unto death! Let the proof be in the test!" Billtholomew said, feeling as though he had made a pretty decent case of it.

"Very well," Claritha began, "I task you with this quest: take with you only an oaken cudgel, a burlap purse filled with dry hard cheese, seven coins of your choosing, and a flower from my basket - choose wisely!"

As she was speaking, Billtholomew had already gathered all the other items in a flash. He looked over her flowers and pulled out a long purple one, with blooms like bells all down its dark green stalk. "This thing!" he said, proudly.

"Well-chosen. Now, fortified as you are, go North along the edge of the Ancient Yulby Forest. Take the Giant-Guarded Road to Yon Tower, the abode of the Wizard Jathper. He is my father. You must give him whatever he asks, and he will set before you three orbs - a red orb, a black orb, and a blue orb - in which you will see three possible futures. I can guide you no further - now go!"

Billtholomew started like a shot, and raced North. He raced facing backwards at first, blowing kisses and vows back towards sweet Claritha, who waved. Once she was out of sight, Billtholomew reluctantly spun to face forward, and ran all the harder. He ran through the whole village, and the last cottage he passed was his own dear home. "Why Papa," Mother cried. "Our own dear Billtholomew just raced by the West-facing window, stern of visage as always, but with a spring in his step that was jaunty, if not quite merry!" Papa popped his head out the North-facing window and said, "Why Mother, it's a miracle!"

Billtholomew ran and ran, until he was out of sight of the village. He ran North. Soon he saw a small man on the horizon, standing in the middle of the road with hands on hips. On Billtholomew ran, on and on. Soon the man was quite large, then presently he was enormous. As Billtholomew drew within an hundred paces, he was positively knocked backwards sprawling by a sour, sulky bellowing roar from the giant: "SAY, BUB! WHAT'S THE RUSH?" But this was only the giant's normal speaking voice.

"Beware, noble giant," said Billtholomew doubtfully, gingerly arising, dusting himself off. "I am on a quest to prove my love to the daughter of yon wizard Jathper in Yon Tower! I want no trouble, but I won't be hindered!" Billtholomew's hand stroked his oaken cudgel, unwisely.

"FIRST," The giant sniffed, "IT'S 'JASPER' - DON'T LET HIM HEAR YOU SAYING 'JATHPER'!"

"Oh wow," said Billtholomew. "Thanks! I almost walked right into it."

"SECOND - NOT SO FAST! THIS IS THE GIANT-GUARDED ROAD. I SAY WHO GOES, AND WHO GOES NO FURTHER!" And, somewhat distractedly, as if an afterthought, he added: "YOU GO NO FURTHER."

Billtholomew's brow thickened with disappointed fury. Just when he thought maybe this giant could be an ally on his quest! He steeled himself: "Then we fight! I see you, too, have an oaken cudgel. It's only fair to warn you - I'm the finest oaken cudgelist in the entire village!"

"FIRST, YOU'RE NOT IN THE VILLAGE," the giant observed, sagely. "SECOND, YOURS IS A CUDGEL. MINE'S AN OAK. BUT AS YOU WISH - 'EN GARDE'!" The giant struck a grotesque parody of a fencing pose, and lunged and shuffled forward. The ground shook to the ungainly footwork accompanying his passes, feints and parries!

Billtholomew jumped back into his own stance, drawing forth his oaken cudgel with a jerk, and brandished it meaningfully. "So be it!"


~ To Be Continued! ~

Thursday, March 04, 2010

I Love Madeline! I Love Werner Herzog!

Children's book classic Madeline by Ludwig Bemelmans, as read/interpreted by Werner Herzog:


Thanks, Popped Culture!

Wednesday, March 03, 2010

When I Was 5, I Wanted to Be a Paleontologist. #3

But somebody else had already done it first.

When I Was 5, I Wanted to Be a Paleontologist. #2

...and in my life, I've come pretty close to that dream! I tell people I'm a paleontologer.

Did you know that your whole life is controlled and influenced by the alignments and configurations of bones in the ground? Let me draw you up a chart.

When I Was 5, I Wanted to Be a Paleontologist.

I think it was just for the awesome drawings. But no, wait - I also wanted to spend all day in the dirt, digging bones. So it was a sincere yearning, to do the real work.

A Scientific Brainstorm, to Solve Our Climate Problems!

So, we've got two big "loomers" here, on the global climate problem stage.

#1: Global Warming! Global warming is:

  • Big
  • Bad
  • Dangerous
  • Will totally mess us up! It's too hot! Our ice is melting, we're drowning! 

#2: Nuclear Winter! Nuclear winter is:

  • Big 
  • Bad
  • Dangerous
  • Will totally mess us up! It's too cold! Our crops are freezing, we're starving!

So. This is kind of obvious, but bear with me.

All we have to do is, if the global warming starts getting too hot, all we do is - we just set off a couple fuckin' nukes.

Right? Those nukes will cool shit right off! Or if they won't, why won't they? Our best scientific projections suggest that they will. Care to dispute science? Like dropping a few cubes of ice into the atmosphere! Ahhhhh. Cool the whole thing down, by several degrees global. Not too much, now! Go easy on the dosage - but not too easy. It needs megatons upon megatons of nukes to bring on a full-on nuclear winter. What we're after here is less "nuclear winter," and more "nuclear air conditioning." We just need to find a good place to set those suckers off, where the main amount of fallout won't be too troublesome. Not Antarctica though. That's where the ice we're trying to save is! You'd be killing the opposite bird with the stone, there.

A couple points about fallout: people think the nuclear winter is from fallout - they think that all the haze that gets into the atmosphere and blocks the sunlight is radioactive. That's not so. Nuclear winter is an effect that proceeds from plain, ordinary, not-excessively-radioactive smoke, from the fires the nukes will start. It's not from the primary explosion at all!

Obviously, even with this infallible scientific solution, we're not completely out of the woods. Because even supposing we tweak it to get that perfect amount of refreshing, global nuclear cool - this would only take care of the "global warming" part of the danger equation, as laid out above. For the other part, we've got to get India and Pakistan to knock all that belligerent shit off! We might want a controlled nuclear release, but if those two go at it with everything in their stockpiles, you'll get the real deal. Nuclear winter.

It's also a good idea to reduce global stockpiles of nukes, eliminate as much as you can. But do keep a few extra around, firstly, for the occasional "nuclear cooler" you may want to drop into the climate mix. But secondly and of paramount importance: you need some nukes in reserve for that inevitable Texas-sized-asteroid, so we can hit the right spot to deflect its course, and possibly chip off a few New Hampshire-sized or Delaware-sized chunks. Get that damn rock down to Ohio-size, maybe, and deflect it off course so as not to hit us. Save a few nukes for that.

Also, if aliens attack - we'll need to keep some nukes handy to throw out there as a big gesture, so that the dramatic stakes can be all "ratcheted up" once we see our big trumps weapon has no effect at all against the alien's shields. This will really juice up the payoff when we find their whimsical achilles heel and, against all odds, exploit it for a crushing victory.

So yeah, save some nukes for that, too. But we don't need all those piles and piles we've got. Total overkill!

The Spider-Sense Is a Myth

The so-called "spider-sense" that warns spiders of danger is a myth.

Unless, possibly, it just doesn't work on a rolled-up newspaper? Perhaps a rolled-up newspaper has some sort of dampening properties.

In which case, I just hit on the perfect villain for the next Spider-Man movie!

Name That Tune #5!

"affection is like an explosive device.
infant, arrive and get busy!
existing like a paramour with a cellular.
resembling a harlot, a DVD slut,
destruction lady can I be your male?
be your male!
glittering, sparkling, strobe a little illumination,
boob tube paramour, infant, continue through the entire evening!
at any indeterminate time, sweeten me with sweetener
small pure female, sweeten me!
take a container
jostle it vigorously
puncture the safety seal
loosen the contents
douse me with a sweetening substance
in the name of affection
douse me with a sweetening substance
come on, immolate me
douse me with a sweetening substance
I can't get a sufficient quantity
My temperature is high. My skin is tacky.
From the top to the bottom of my extremities!"


Note: questions will be posted at 9am each Wednesday. Comments (containing your answers) will be posted after 5pm!

Tuesday, March 02, 2010

Doodeloo #35: This Bear Took Me 39 Seconds to Draw!

39 sec bear

Natural Thought Of The Day

"Natural" is a concept invented by humankind. We invented "natural" so that we could then set ourselves apart from it. It is the original and ultimate "artificial distinction."

Our intelligence, and everything that springs from it, and all the attributes and advantages of our species, are absolutely part and parcel of nature.

On Penises


[Ed. I was pleased and proud when j. from kissing frogs asked me to "guest blog" on her blog. She had mentioned that I was one of a small minority of her readers who were male (or words to that effect), and so the topic of my post just sort of suggested itself. I'm posting this here now because it's Tuesday, and I've been posting about 'Blog-Related' things on Tuesdays, and since this is the only 'guest-blog post' I've every done, it seems borderline 'Blog-Related']
Good evening. I've been asked to address you tonight as a guest speaker, a guest blogger if you will, by our esteemed host j. here at kissing frogs. The topic was left open, but there was some mention of the fact that I may be perhaps the first or else, among the first males to appear on this site in a guest-blogger capacity.

I don't mean to imply that this was the reason I was asked. I'm a feminist, so I naturally assumed that no such objectification or depersonalization to my mere sex organs (by "mere" I mean only in comparison to the top 5 percentile[Reference needed]) had occurred. I believe it was more in the line of a fortuitous aside, but I took that coincidence as my cue and ran with it as a natural topic to cover. In view of the pervasive influence exerted by the culture of the penis upon our society, perhaps: the natural topic to cover. Certain issues need to be addressed, and who better than me to do it?

Freud once said a thing or two on the topic of penises. In fact, it was a bit of a preoccupation with him. Naturally I assumed this was some sort of an overcompensation on his part, but disclosures in Jung's recently published "Red Book Diaries" suggest otherwise. I leave it to academia to sort that one out.

One thing is certainly clear: there are many penis myths that need to be dispelled. Perhaps the most widespread is that penises come in all shapes and sizes. In fact, they are almost all rather more oblong than otherwise. Another widespread myth is that an inverse correlation exists between the gross dimensions of a man's penis and the size/speed/showiness of his automobile. I need only note that I myself drive a 1990 Toyota Tercel to send that myth packing. Although that's perhaps a bad example, as I'm constantly smoking mustangs and camaros off the stop line in my bad sweet ride. As with so many things, it's in the way that you use it.

In closing, I'd like to thank j. for this opportunity to be here, and say a few things to you all on a topic that's nearer and dearer to some of us than others. I hope that even those of you to whom penises are not of particular interest, may still have found something worth hearing, in what I have had to say. And perhaps even, something to prompt you into giving the topic a second look!

Thank you for your kind attention.

Monday, March 01, 2010

What Do I Need to Bring to the Meeting?

"all you need to bring are your questions and insights."

- from the invite

That's what I bring to all my meetings! But then when I get there, if I've been told I don't need to bring anything, that means I expect it to be taken care of! Only to come in to the meeting room to a big disappointment: rarely if ever are coffee and donuts provided.

Coffee is pretty much "bring your own," okay, I can deal with that. Mine's better than theirs, anyway. But where are the donuts, or the bagels with fresh sliced tomatoes, onion, and a variety of spreads? Cheese and crackers, something! Shoot, I asked what you wanted me to bring. I could have brought something myself, if I knew there'd be nothing there for the meeting! That's why I asked.

It's a real problem with the corporate culture around here. The lack of meeting-suitable comestibles disgusts me to such an extent that as a subtle form of protest, I will now often show up to the meeting with a big rack of Cole's Famous BBQ ribs, slathered with Cole's delicious tangy BBQ sauce. No Cole's Slaw, beans or other sides, as those would require utensils.

I don't wish to overdo my subtle point.

Then I just dig in. Those are my ribs! If asked, I'd have bought plenty for everybody, but I wasn't asked. I was told it was taken care of.

Last time, though, they got me. I have to admit, they got me. Once too many times to the well! I walked in there with my big rack of steaming, tangy, well-slathered ribs, and there on the table, there they were: a whole assortment of donuts.

I felt like such an ass.