The Grinch '03

A gift for you this Boxing Day: "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" has been updated for 2003. (More quality posting here later, folks. I've had a bit of a headache, been playing around with the site and almost chmod'ed it out of existence, etc.)

Sitemeter sucks

Can I just say how much I fucking hate Sitemeter and all the blogs its slow-loading little graphic/stats-measuring thingie prevents from opening properly? Die, Sitemeter, die.

Dude, Where's My Car? Part 2, Or: Cool Things to Do Now That I Can't Just Drive Off

Vote for Vote for Acid Keg as top web comic (Just Say No to the Return of Bloom County! Via Jim Treacher.)

Watch The Two Towers, the Extended Edition, all night instead of getting a good night's sleep. (Like I said -- it's a good thing I have the important stuff paid for, isn't it?)

Mmm... venison.

Hook up my own goddamn washing machine since the maintenance crew this apartment complex hires has a lousy attitude.

Curse as I realize my laundry detergent was left in my ex-car, to be retrieved from the Evil Repo'ed Car Holding Place along with my ancient U2 tapes, discarded kleenexes, and other personal possessions left in said car.

Walk to the grocery store to buy more detergent.

Contemplate extra time in the next few weeks to read some of my favorite blogger/webwriter dudes since I -- Hey, wait just a doggone minute -- %#^@%#*!!

Vegetables in cars

It seems that PETA is after the car industry to make special provisions for vegetarians. Yo, meat-haters, get a car with cloth seats; leather seats only come in luxury editions of cars. Say -- what are the compassion fascists in PETA doing promoting the use of environment-killing luxury cars anyway? In fact -- shouldn't they be protesting the existence of cars? I can't tell you how much roadkill I've seen in my life, but those squished armadillos weren't killed by vegans on bikes.

Oh -- and PS: god, look at all that beautiful leather. Why was I born rich instead of beautiful? I was at the mall today, and when I went into the store that beautful scent of tanned animal hide surrounded me.

The Semanticist and the Pedant

... sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G... Indeed, what to call the Evil Ones™ who attack both civilians and military personnel indiscriminately? There seems to be some fuss over the proper use of the word "terrorist" -- it seems that improper usage of the term violates union rule 4205-C section VI of the Code of Journalistic Rules. I have a solution. Why not just call the ones committing the aforementioned indiscriminate slaughter "dogfuckers"? That's what I do. (Note: sensitive souls may want to call them "dogf**kers" -- which of course means "dogfilkers" -- which means people who sing folk songs based on cheesy scifi stories to dogs.)

Message on an imaginary tee-shirt

"I went to the Tim Blair World Tour show in Minneapolis and all I got was this lousy hangover."

Your moment of zen

There was a post between this one and the 1-800-fatwa one. I have taken it offline. I may or may not put it back, depending upon a number of factors.

Update: oh what the fuck, the post is back. Let this be a lesson to you, boys and girls: don't step on the flaming paper bag, because you'll get petty shit all over your shoes.

PS: clean off the stink with this handy lye-and-gasoline concoction.

Just another day at Blogville Senior High

There's another blogger doing spastic backflips of outrage because he's not on someone's blogroll. Well. I wonder sometimes what people think of me -- I don't even make my blogroll public. I am not an advertizing agency, after all. Besides, I don't ever want you, my victims readers, to be able to leave the warm, comfy confines of Spleenville, mwahahahaha!

Adult education

At last, a web site language course that teaches one the important phrases. Samples:

Greenlandic:

We would like to buy some blubber.
Orssorsiniarpugut.

Rumanian:

Have you stolen my budgie's turban?
Tu ai furat turbanul canarului meu?

Latin:

I can't hear you. I have a banana in my ear.
Te audire no possum. Musa sapientum fixa est in aure.

Thanks, Tex!

Update: and perhaps the most useful phrase ever, in 102 languages! Thanks to reader Don. Hey, it could happen!

Your moment of... WEASELS ON CRACK LOL hahahahaha iä C'thulhu fthag'n

Badgers. And Mushrooms. And a snake and something blew up. Hold me, Mommy... (Bad influence.)

(Update: okay, I'm back in my silly mood so this is back up. I changed the date to today's.)

Look ma!

All the kitten armpits you could possible need!

Weird spam

Someone apparently has confused me with the State Department, or a member of the Trilateral Commision, or... I have no idea why "Michael@hotmail.com" has sent me these two email messages:

This one, subject-headed "The Saudi Government" :

The Saudi Government: Is it or is it not linked to terrorism? It’s a question that attracts more questions than answers.

If a link as tenuous as a donation from a charitable organisation finding its way into the hands of a person who may have committed a terrorist act, then quite possibly so. However, that connection is as remote as an American citizen’s purchase of a soft drink and the sales tax finding its way to finance terrorism in El Salvador, sponsored by the US government. The well known patriot Colonel Oliver North knows a bit about that sort of stuff!

The essence of the analysis is whether the donations by charitable organisations to individuals were made knowing that the money was to be used to support terrorist actions. On the micro level, the final use by the end user of every riyal or dollar from a collection box can’t be traced or followed or confirmed with 100 percent accuracy.

So far, nothing useful has been said, insofar as speculation, pages missing from reports and op-ed pieces in the media provide more heat than light and facts are woefully short.

The 27 deleted pages from a congressional are alleged to contain “very direct, very specific links that cannot be passed off as rogue, isolated or coincidental.” They are said by senior US officials to depict a Saudi Government that “not only provided significant money and aid to the 9/11 hijackers, but potentially allowed hundreds of millions of dollars to flow to Al Qaeda and other terrorist groups through suspect charities and other fronts.”

Potentially? Depict? Potentially, getting out of bed leads to death; safer to stay where you are. Much in the manner of the “weapons of mass destruction” debate and Tony Blair’s much vaunted but now entirely discredited Dossier on Iraq, potential is all that is offered. Depiction or description isn’t the production of fact.

The same congressional investigators that described these “potentials” also admit that they “found no specific evidence” proving that Saudi top officials – notably members of the Royal Family – conspired in any way to fund the Sept. 11 attack or other acts of terrorism.”

Not only has the Saudi government called for the release of the missing pages from the congressional report, so have several dozen US lawmakers.

Speculation feeds the media. Opinions are cheap and plentiful and descriptions of “potentials” very often repackaged and sold as fact at worst or at least knowledgeable comment.

Whilst this feeds up the August news famine, it’s time for some hard, checkable facts....please?

And this one, titled "Confusing accusations" :

Sultan Bin Abdulaziz is something of a hate figure to many western commentators. One of the more confusing accusations is that “he spends more than he earns, and borrows from the Saudi government at will and gives away billions of dollars to his constituents.”

In the west, where that criticism emanates, that is known as ‘deficit budgeting’ and accounts for the National Debt – a feature of every developed economy. Held up for ridicule as “the Saudi modus operandi,” it applies equally well to the rest of the world from whom Saudi Arabia learned how to model its economy. Is this a case of the teacher telling the student that he has taught him the wrong thing – yet continues to practice it while offering ridicule?

These are confused messages. They show a lack of understanding of the traditional social structure of the Kingdom and the Arab/Islamic world. Centralized government – which is on the large scale what tribal government was on the small scale – is the “modus operandi” of the Kingdom.

The ruling family does direct operations – but is subject to the checks and balances operated through the council of ministers and the Majlis Ash Shoura – a body of selected academics and committed professionals from industry and commerce who serve for a four year term. They stay where they are because they fulfil the operational and religious requirements of the Saudi constitution – which, if critics in the west ever chose to read it, is the Qur’an. It allows for the removal of rulers if they do not meet strict demands and cater for the welfare of their people.

Prince Sultan’s personal wealth is often targeted – “he has made more than $60 billion between 1976 and 1993.” If, as his critics say, he spends more than he makes, perhaps that should read “he has given away more than $60 billion between 1976 and 1993.” It would make Bill Gates and his charitable foundation give pause for thought. It would also be anathematic to the Kingdom’s detractors to look at expenditure in any other way than corruption.

Even the detractors admit that to anyone that knows him; Prince Sultan’s outstanding feature is generosity. This is reported as “Prince Sultan is willing to pay in order to keep everyone in check.” Is then charitable donation or salary or commission for services now to be described as bribery? If that’s the case, who is innocent? Certainly not the detractors.

It is quite true that Prince Sultan operates a horizontal management style – is reluctant to delegate. What is odd is that this is offered as a criticism, whereas the “hands on manager” is usually praised in other countries. A review of his early childhood and the kind of environment and tradition he was brought up in would illuminate the reason for this style.

His early years age six to fifteen – were spent in the court of his father, King Abdulaziz – receiving education in the traditional Najd style and learning the realities of political manoeuvring and deal-making from visiting western businessmen with interests to develop – for their own profit. They gave examples of the techniques and these lined up well with the traditional way of governance in the Kingdom.

Tradition is the key word; Saudi traditional society relied on alliances and deals, family bonds and marriage as a way of cementing them. That doesn’t sit too well in the western world – although monarchical and political dynasties abound. However, techniques used by the west in the search for oil-sources only reinforced Saudi traditional social management technique, they didn’t corrupt it.

The truth is that Saudi Arabia and one of its highest profile leaders is an obvious target for shrill criticism, frequently using unsupported allegation, smears and entirely un-defendable personal attacks.

It’s part of the price of leadership.

Thank god for copy-and-paste; through the magic of click-and-drag I can transfer both wads of boring text from my email to this blog without actually have to read any of it. What, is FreeRepublic.com down?

Chivalry for all?

The chivalry of men towards their female friends is a wonderful thing to behold. But I wonder -- would there be a similar linking of arms and presenting of shields for a single mother-to-be who was a not-particularly-attractive or intelligent person of no importance who was unknown to any of these doughty males?

Ken's In

Oooh, I am liking Ken Layne's new site look. It's not really too different from the old black-and-white look, but the red gives it a certain... something. Now I'm kinda wanting to go minimal again... I also wish I could spare the few bucks to buy the cd, but I am saving up for an apartment downpayment. But soon...

Things that make me go "argh"

The phrase "hat tip." I see it everywhere. Make it die.

Pin

I couldn't help it.

Scalability

The abuse dished out at Spleenville will always be fair and balanced.

(Michele made me do it.)

I'm jealous

When am I going to get my own personal blog bitch?

Secrets of the South

Acidman tells the world the truth about chitlins. No, I've never eaten them. Yes, I knew what they were.

Love and Marriage

Lileks is back from his server woes exile, and he has a take on that gay-bishop fuss that I haven't seen from anyone else so far. You know what? I agree with him.

Just 'cos I'm in a good mood, I'll leave comments open for this one. Have at it. But try to stay on topic.

Stat this

You know what I hate? I hate all those stat thingies on websites. You know, the ones from Bravenet and Sitemeter and whatnot. I am so freaking tired of websites not loading completely because the stat site's server is down or something. Sometimes just hitting the "stop" button works, sometimes it doesn't -- for whatever reason, the site I am trying to get to won't load its content unless the stat link finishes loading.

Wascawwy Wabbit

Some of you may have seen a picture of a bunny with a pancake on its head, sometimes with the caption, "I have no idea what the fuck you are talking about, so here's a picture of a bunny with a pancake on its head." Well, here is that rabbit's website. His name was Oolong... many and varied were his adventures.

(Via Beermary.)

Now for a word from our sponsors

Remember that Honda web ad that everyone was yakking about? This is a "similar" effort. Yeah, similar...

(Via Tex at Whacking Day.)

I see London, I see France...

Okay, I have a question. It's about this softcore anime pr0n thing. If they can draw bouncing boobies and closeups of short-short-clad bottoms, when what the frack is it with the insectoid anime-creature face? All eyes and hardly any mouth or nose -- sorry, but the facial features -- or lack thereof -- of most anime characters totally turn me off, I don't care how well the bodies are drawn.

(Note: I actually like the rest of the picture that I linked to on AstreaEdge's site. but that noseless, mouthless face... {shudder}.)

Missing the point

Another pun missed. Sigh. (The post she refers to is now located here.)

The end is near: sign no. 7845

Brought to you by the Internet (the gift that just keeps on giving): Testicle Theater.

Do not blame Meryl -- she is but a victim of forces of evil greater than mortals can resist.

Military syntax

You know, I hate the word "blouse." I always have. As a person of the female gender I am supposed to refer to certain of my torso-covering garments as "blouses" but since I hate that word I never do. I have t-shirts and shirts but I don't have "blouses." (I don't care much for the word "top" either. It sounds like an adjective looking for a noun.) Anyway, chalk this up to Reason No. 4571 why I would never have made it in the military .

(Via Meryl Yourish.)

This explains so much

Well dang: even the cosmos is pissed off. (Click for larger pic.)

(Via Scott Chaffin, via Charles Hill, via Greeblie Blog. (Mmm, blogcest...)

Radio killed the video star

So, I keep hearing about this Michael Savage guy, who is some sort of conservative radio talk show host pundit spewmeister thing. Huh. I've never heard his show, unless it was for about five seconds until my hand could get to the dial to change the station. I don't listen to talking on the radio -- talking without visible faces annoys me. (Yes, talking on the phone is not my favorite activity, and it cheeses me off if someone in another room is watching the tv and I can hear the dialogue clearly. This is my point of psychosis, okay?) Anyway, I had a thought -- considering Michael Savage's show is apparently called "Savage Nation," what do you think of me changing my name to "Tar"? Think I can get a radio deal and have people fawning all over me/frothing at the mouth at my existence?

Eh, never mind. I hate talking, and in showbiz you gotta shmooz, and I don't shmooz.

She's my cherry pie

I like pie.

Things are tough all over

So that's what happened. Hey, now I have something in common with James Lileks, besides the fact that we are both human and hate the Seventies with an all-abiding passion. Well -- I wasn't laid off, I quit, and he wasn't laid off, but still -- nothing like that "So, what am I going to do now?" feeling! (Okay, I did have a plan, and I did have a good job interview, and--)

Well -- those orange shag rugs were hideous, weren't they? The way little strands of yarn would come loose...

The perfect man

...would not do any of the things in this list. Not to me, unless he wanted to be the perfect male corpse. Here are my responses to the fourteen points (there were supposed to be more, but the person whose site the list came from was only able to make it to number fourteen):

1. Know how to make you smile when you are down!

Leave me alone. That makes me smile.

2. Try to secretly smell your hair, but you always notice.

The hell? Don't freaking sniff me, you weirdo.

3. Stick up for you, but still respects your independence.

No one does this. No one. Don't even bother dreaming of it.

4. Give you the remote control during the game.

"Oh good, the game's on! That means I won't have him bugging me" (like, wanting to smell my hair and stuff) "for at least two hours."

5. Come up behind you and put his arms around you.

Do this if you want me to jump ten feet in the air and then kill you on the way down for scaring the crap out of me.

6. Play with your hair.

The hell--? Get your hands out of my hair, bitch! Unless you like cat saliva all over your hand. My cat likes to sit behind me on the back of the futon and lick my head.

7. His hands always find yours.

I am usually writing or typing or doing something like that. So if he finds my hand and messes up what I am doing he's going to pull back a nub.

8. Be cute when he really wants something.

Unless he looks like this, the cute shit isn't going to get much of a response from me. As a matter of fact, looking like this won't get Mr. Cute what he wants. (It may get me what I want, but that's another matter altogether.)

9. Offer you plenty of massages.

Show me the guy who will be satisfied with merely giving you "plenty of massages," and I will show you your paid masseur.

10. Dance with you, even if he feels like a dork.

I don't dance. I hate to dance. I watched Footloose and secretly sympathized with the dance-hating preacher.

11. React so cutely when you hit him and it actually hurts.

What. The. Hell. This is so psychotic. And they say women never abuse men.

12. Drive 5 hours just to see you for 1.

I would have liked to have seen the look on my then-boyfriend's face if I had told him to leave one hour after driving all the way down to Miami from Orlando to see me.

13. Stare at you.

What?!?!? Whoever put this list together is some kind of major freak.

14. Call for no reason.

I hate that. I hate talking on the phone anyway. I hate getting "calls for no reason" even more. Anyway, how flattering is it to get a phone call from your significant other and to be told, when you ask why he called, "Oh, no reason."

So anyway. I guess I am not "romantic," or whatever the originator of this list (it was one of those email things) is trying to be. Yay me.

Where has the internet gone?

Dang. Usually I can't get on my site. Did I kill the internet?

Your pretty face is going to hell

Acidman has a running thread on the subject of women's blogs, and how they are just too durned pretty, like those homes where the toilet paper is hidden under a crocheted cover. So what do you think -- is my blog 1) too pretty, or 2) not pretty enough? I've been feeling like doing a (drumroll) site redesign...

Metafiltered!

A Tale of Two Moxies. IS this supposed to be important or something?

I got the heads up from Jim Treacher.

Oh wait -- dig Kevin! My man. Now, I've got to go rinse dye out of my hair. Later, peeps.

The original internet hippie

Oh, this is funny -- and cruel, which is why it is funny: Simple Guide to the A-List Bloggers. Sample:

“In the beginning was the Blog, and the Blog was with Dave, and the Blog was God. The same was in the beginning with Dave. All things were made by him; and without him was not any thing made that was made. In him was life; and the life was the light of men. And the light shineth in darkness; and the darkness (everyone but Dave) comprehended it not.”

(Via Richard Bennett via Robert Scoble.)

Update: someday someone will get to the Z-bloggers such as myself. By then people will be blogging on plasma filaments with their brainwaves, but hey...

Updated update: now how would I know why Adam Curry is considered an A-list blogger? Methinks I smell a whiff of self-parody there...

(By the way, who the hell is Andrew Orlowski? He must be the author of this piece.)

Rejected license plate slogans

Aw, heck, I think these are pretty cool. Sample:

Iowa: The "Holy God This Is Boring" State
Minnesota: The People Who Laugh At Garrison Keillor
Nevada: Hookers and Craps -- American Paradise
Ohio: Mayo Goes On Everything
Vermont: Birthplace of the Insufferable Hippie
Washington: Not The Cool Washington, The Other One
Washington, D.C.: Try The Crack
Wyoming: I Live In Wyoming. Please Kill Me.

Florida's was kind of dull, though. I'd have said something like "Florida: Now Get Out!" since that is the sentiment of most of the people who are already here, including the people who just moved here yesterday.

Story Hour

When I'm sick, I like to have handsome young men read to me.

(Via TheOneRing.net.)

What the fuck?!?

This fucking sucks. Bunch of fucking wankers -- I'd like to fucking see these asshats try to fucking stop me from

(Via Tim Blair.)

Stupid people catcher

I suppose there are a lot of people who, seeing an email from address "microsoft@support.com," and reading the cryptic subject "important information!" and the equally cryptic message "all information is in the attached file" would be so unwise as to click on said attached file, which was labelled "screensaver" and called something.pif.* However, I am not one of those people.

*I forget what, because I deleted it immediately.

I should not have read this

Gee, thanks, Mr. Cosh, for making me regret eating that peanut butter sandwich just now.

Shot from a cannon

Concerning so-called "assault rifles" and the proposed ban thereupon -- I have a few things to say. No -- actually, I have just one thing to say:

ALL RIFLES ARE ASSAULT RIFLES YOU FUCKWITS.

Jesuschrist when is the stupidity going to end? You can't say "that there is an assault rifle" as if there was otherwise such thing as a "cuddle gun" that gives you a hug instead of putting a hole in you, or a "warm blanket rifle" that tucks itself around you to keep you from getting a chill. This "assault rifle" thing is beyond stupid, something only a nanny-wannabe from Betty Friedan's suburban hell could possibly think actually was a sane category. Guns, rifles, knives, etc., are weapons, and weapons have one main purpose, and that is to assault the other fool before he can assault you. That's what self-defense is, by the way (let me just insert this here for the benefit of all those people who keep whining about the US and its "pre-emptive wars"). It's not some sort of Disneyesque ideal of standing Staunch and Firm and Frowning Authoritatively and Speaking in a Loud, Clear, Calm Voice to the world's villains until they are overcome with the shame of their own perfidy and slink away to sulk in a cave.

Anyway, Frank's list is funny. Read it.

Warm Featherette

The American Imperial Cultural Hegemon continues its invasion of the pristine sands of the Middle East! Oh the humanity! When will it end, when????

Future posts

I'm putting this up to remind me of some posts I want to do today, when I get around to it/have more coffee in me:

A subject near and dear to my coal-black heart has been brought up by Steven Chapman (at 12:46 GMT on Sunday May 18) and Brian Micklethwait over at Libertarian Samizdata: High-Brow Littrichoor vs. what people actually want to read.

Speaking of Tolkien (heh), I've been wanting to post for some time on some things he brought up in an essay in The Tolkien Reader called "Ofermod." (That's an Anglo-Saxon word that means something like "hubris" did to the Greeks, only not really.) Maybe if I put this reminder note here I will get to it.

I was going to blog about China Miéville's scifi-fantasy-grotesque novels but I have yet to read Perdido Street and The Scar all the way through. So that will have to wait.

I can't resist rattling the bars of the cage: A.C. Douglas tossed a brand onto the fire a few days ago when he asserted here that there are more quality female-written blogs than male-written blogs.¹ Naturally I have something to say about that. (Muahahaha... rubs hands together in wicked anticipation.) (1. Update: must... concentrate... must... learn to count/read/see/type... But I still have much to say about gender superiority in writing. Or, well, something, anyway.)

In the comments to this post, my assertion that college isn't necessary for everyone ruffled some feathers. I'll be expanding on my reply there. (Maybe I should add that permalinking feature for individual comments to my blog. We'll see.)

Boycott Hollywood links to this interview with Janeane Garofalo. My opinions on what she has to say are forthcoming. (Side note: "forthcoming" -- now there's an Anglo-Saxon word-formation.)

I can't remember anything else I want to do a post on right now, but I'm sure I'll think of more later. But I think this is enough for now.

Feel the love!

I've got fans. Refresh for some of my best sayings. Couldn't have designed it better myself. (PS: I guess this was supposed to be some sort of insult, but I'm rather flattered instead. Sorry, guys.)

Update: bwahahahaha!

Bring back the blink tag!

I think this is the first time in internet history that a website has been criticized for not being flashy enough.

I can see clearly now

All this time I had Clear Type as part of XP and I didn't know it. Rock. (Thanks to Donald Sensing for the tip.)

Of course I am

You are smart and sexy!


Which Ultimate Beautiful Woman are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

Via Jet's Place.

Blogs across the water

Here's a blog from Iceland. Icelandic is another of those languages I always wanted to learn in my ever-shrinking "spare time." (I always thought the word "blog" had a kind of Nordic sound to it, and I like the sound of those languages, which is probably why the word doesn't awaken feelings of loathing in me that it does in other people.)

They do it over there but we don't do it here

Um -- I think that these clothing designs are missing something. Like... clothes.

(Via Tim Blair, who only reads FHM for the articles.)

[Bonus quiz: where did I get the title from?]

A piece of...

I hate it when the underwear rides up my ass like that. Don't you? (Via Tim Blair, who only subscribes to Maxim for the interviews.)

Why you shouldn't mess with me

Skadi is the Goddess of Winter and of the Hunt. She is married to Njord, the gloomy Sea God, noted for his beautiful bare feet (which is how Skadi came to choose him for her mate.) Supposedly the bare foot is an ancient Norse symbol of fertility. The marriage wasn't too happy, though, because she really wanted Baldur for her husband. She is the goddess of Justice, Vengeance, and Righteous Anger, and is the deity who delivers the sentence upon Loki to be bound underground with a serpent dripping poison upon his face in payment for his crimes. Skadi's character is represented in two of Hans Christian Anderson's tales: "The Snow Queen" and "The Ice Princess."


What Norse God Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

(Via Mixolydian Mode. Note: I didn't like the image the quiz maker used -- it was just too feckin' bizarre -- so I stole a more appropriate image from this website.)

Nice Kitty

Take the "Which FARK Cliche Are You" quiz!

Bad Girl

take the virgin-whore dichotomy quiz.


and go to mewing.net. where we're all studs.

Jeez. Just because I like to wear black a lot. And carry a whip. Is that so bad?

(Via redsugar muse.)

MY. EYES. THEY. BURN.

This is so wrong. Now I have visions of Saddam's man-titties, as he dances around at a tailgate party in Gainesville after a successful Gators game. Excuse me, I need to go pour lye in my eyes.

Die! Die! My Darlings!

I just realized -- you all do know what this means, don't you? No one will ever believe that a postmodern poet actually spent time thinking up those non-rhymes and broken phrases he/she calls poems anymore. In the back of everyone's mind upon being inflicted with the latest unrhyming anticouplet or deranged pseudo-villanelle will be the thought: "Oh, sure, Mr. Sensitive just went to the Automated Poetry Generator website and got that bunch of gibberish." Yay! Contemporary poetry has been vanquished! Whoever this Rob person is, he's a god to me.

If only I had known about this last year

...I could have aced my Creative Writing class. Well - actually, I did ace that class, but still, it would have been neat not to have to actually have to think up a poem for the poetry part of the class. I hate writing poetry. Anyway -- it's something called Rob's Amazing Poem Generator, and you put a URL into it, and it will turn the website into a poem. Here is my blog, poemized:

Too Much To have forgotten
or discounted
in their worries that married
dear old dad Links All bore me!
Posted by Andrea
Harris at 10:31 PM | Link | Comments
4 | TrackBack 0 > My blogroll which mall MJ would
patronize. It was
bad enough when the southern
brew failing grades. Gee...
American wine snobs. Via
Tim Blair today well,
Not responsible for myself, Posted by Andrea
Harris at
12:07 PM | Link | Comments 1 | TrackBack 0 > TrackBack 1
new Faq AIM: for my blog
is speculation that describes
me BORES! By Andrea Harris at the end of calling it degrades
women? click.

Via Ken Layne, who is just going wild with the thing.

Blogspot's new annoyance

This is what I am talking about (click for larger):

What the hell is that?!?

Spleenville weather: partly hostile with a chance of maniacal behavior later in the day

Yay! He's back! As for the rest of you, you all bore me! BORES!

By the way, some of you who have figured out how to open up my blogroll (hinty hint: click on "all the blogs." I am not responsible for non-responses in weird browsers based on Mozilla written for Macintosh computers using Linux. Bite me and get something normal) may notice a disappearance of certain blogs. They are all the ones that use Blogspot's evil software. But never fear -- they will reappear under their own blogroll, which will be dedicated to Blogspot blogs alone. I am thinking of calling it "Sad Blogger Loser Blogs," or "People Who Can't Figure Out How to Use MT or Some Other Real Blogging Software," or "People Too Cheap to Get Their Own Server Space," or something like that.

Hey, what did I tell you? Hostile! Possibly becoming maniacal! Get your umbrellas out!

Never mind. I'm kidding. I love you all, really. MWAH. (Iamsofuckingsickofnotbeingabletoopenblogsporblogsonacablemodemlineorgetti
ngthatstupidarchiveerrormessageorthenew"thiswebsiteunderconstructioncomeba
cklater"messagegoddammit)

At last, someone who understand me

Hey, it's the t-shirt that describes me perfectly. (I almost said "to a tee," but I stopped myself.)

Just like the girl that married dear old dad

(Warning: adult-only content ahead. If you get offended, you deserve it for not believing me.)

Did you understand? There is ADULT-ONLY stuff ahead, as in PORN. You want PORN, then click on the link to the extended entry. You don't want PORN, don't click. Easy. Offended by porn and think it "degrades women"? Don't click.

Now, on to PORN.

Well, I was looking through Tart Graphics, wondering if I should change my web page to one of these themes (tempting; it would offend so many people), and I got to wondering -- where on earth did they find so much vintage porn? Then I remembered that this is the internet. The first site Google brought me was RetroRaunch, a very pretty, nicely designed site full of naked old people before they were old (or dead).

Of course, since it is PORN after all, a lot of the pictures are -- well, hum, grandma! We hardly knew ye. And I read somewhere -- I can't remember where -- that people didn't practice oral sex until after the 1940s. Shyeah, right.

PS: you could open this page in another window and listen to it while you look. (If you have Quicktime installed the song will play.) I know you're looking. Aaah! You looked! Caught you!

I guess I am in a better mood now.

My wine

Speaking of Australian wine, it appears that American wine tasters have given the southern brew failing grades. Gee... American wine tasters... choosing California wines over imported ones... I''m sure they were impartial. Well, this American wine taster has been quite pleased with the Australian wines she has so far sampled. As soon as I recover from my latest sinus bout I will be buying some Rosemount.

I hate wine snobs.

(Via Tim Blair -- today -- well, actually, tomorrow, since it's already tomorrow in Australia.I'm not even going to bother with Blogspot permalinks anymore.)

Seeds of our demise, part 2,789

From the Mutant Non-Sequitur Farm: while browsing through Winamp's skins, I came across this in the users' comment section of a Tool (the band) skin (warning, bad words and worse grammar ahead):

FUCK c31ic4 G7 posted on February 4, 2003 @ 10:03 AM
I don't even know what a skin is, but I stoped anyway just to say fuck any cunt ass mother fucker that says tool is gay. Tool is the best band ever and I know ppl who would kill you if they saw that you said that shit. If you think tool is gay then you didn't understand the lyrics and should shut your mother fucking mouth before you get bitch slapped. So shut your fucking mouth if you don't know what your talking about especially about somthing more important than religon. That's why were all going to hell in the first place. Because some dumb ass like you started making up his oun little shit and now we got 50 diffrent religons to pick from and they all say the others going to hell. so just shut the fuck up. Peace.

Oooo-kay.... whatever!

Are friends ethernet?

Today's show features robot porn.

(Yes, that's right, I said PORN. Porn porn porn porn PORN! That's for any little commenters who want to be stupid. You know who you are.)

This means war

A foolish citizen of the Great White North has dared to dis Krispy Kreme. We are told that the superior establishment is something called "Tim Horton's." The challenge is thus laid forth. This must not stand! Aux armes! And may the best donut win.

If I convert, this will be why

Monk who gave cappuccino its name beatified. "Mother Mary, full of caffeine..."

(Via Blog Of Xanadu.)

Not thug safe

I was just talking with someone about the fact that Saddam Hussein had some of fantasy artist Rowena's paintings hanging in one (or more) of his love nests. Well, I'd never heard of Rowena. but I have heard of scifi-fantasy artist Brom. I happened upon one of those art books of his stuff at a bookstore somewhere. It was too expensive for me to buy at the time (and still is), but at least I can still look at some of his stuff on the internet. Somehow I get the feeling that this artist's work would not have been to the tastes of Uday and Co.

Across the universe -- of your t*****s

Sure, Kevin's got Jude Law and porn, but Treacher has robot coitus interruptus. I love the internette!

Bizarre audio dynamite

Okay, I'm really afraid to download and listen to any of the digital sounds contained herein, but that doesn't mean you have to be a chicken too! Have at it, kids -- and if your stay in the mental ward isn't too long, get back to me and let me know how they were. (Via that Chris Pirillo semi-celebrity guy.)

My wine

Hm.... I may just finish off this lovely bottle of Australian shiraz that I picked up in Publix... Anyway, here's a toast, to the Australians and New Zealandians-- Zealanders--- um, Kiwis for Anzac day, and a matching toast to Rosemary whose birthday it is, and also a toast to anyone else who is having a birthday today or just had a baby or got engaged or bought a new Playstation or---

(Glug, glug, glug.)

This planet ain't big enough for me

I need 6.3 of them. Woohoo! I rule. Get out of my way, puny humans! (Was that the proper reaction to this quiz? Well, it feels proper to me -- and everyone knows that if it's based on feelings, then it is proper.)

(Via The World Wide Rant and Lileks.)

Domestication?

More evidence that I'm really a man. Here's what I left in the comments:

Hmmm.

Carpet has cat hair dustballs stacked an inch high in the corner. Check.

Kitchen floor looks like the remains of an archaeological trench after a rainstorm. Check.

Dirty laundry piled on bedroom floor. Check.

Wall of: computer and peripherals, laser printer, tv, dvd player. Check.

Books lying all over the place. Check.

Bed unmade. Check.

Unused yet working computer taking up space in bedroom. Check.

Cardboard boxes from move a year and a half ago, contents still inside, stacked against walls, serving as "temporary" furniture for spare tv. Check.

Refrigerator contains: new carton of coffee cream, three-quarters of a stick of butter, some oranges, half a loaf of bread, and a row of "Peeps" Easter candy from last year. Check.

Verdict: I'm really a man.

Well. I did by a new scent thing for the plug-in air freshener. But really, all the men I have known have not only not been slobs, they have been almost fanatically neat. Picking up fresh crumbs off the carpet with their fingers neat. Stacking things in anal little piles everywhere neat. It's probably a good thing though. If I met a man like me our house would probably end up on the news as one of those homes that the health department people had to clean out with a backhoe.

Woof!

Oh no, Mr. Glenn Reynolds hasn't been kidnapped... he's been throwing puppies in the blender! Hey, it's from Frank J., so you know it's reliable news. Right?

And look -- another scandal! Compromising the lives of puppies for the sake of the family dog and the Children™, suuure... We believe you.

This Old Pot

The sequel to This Old House: a modern-day Iraqi family coping with invading coalition forces, water and food shortages, looting, the wacky efforts of Zany Younger Son Hassan and his get-rich schemes involving some gold artifacts he "found somewhere," and importunate yet clueless British journalists, will be shown on a split screen with their counterpart Sumerian family from five thousand years in the past (and five-hundred feet under the present-day house), and their zany, wacky adventures coping with invading Hittites, half-witted Younger Son Um-Pal and his crazy get-rich schemes involving gold-leaf-encrusted court seals he "found somewhere," as well as corrupt priests of Ishtar, plagues, and famine. All playing on this channel. Tim Robbins narrates.

Just a note on a blog

I think Yahmdallah has commented on my site before but for some reason I never linked to his blog, so it is now on the blogroll. He's not a right-winger -- but then, neither am I. I don't see much to argue about in his political screed here. (I don't know if the permalinks are working right -- this is Blogspot, after all -- so just scroll down to the image from one of those laughable political quiz things.)

Except for this: he says here, of education:

I think public education should be available, for free (through taxes, of course), up through the graduate/vocational degree level[...]

Er, ah, no -- actually, if it is paid for with taxes, then it is not really "free." Taxes, last time I checked, were paid with real money. At best, "free" public school is "prepaid." Now I have no objection to taxes being used to pay for a public school system. (The argument is with how the funds are being used and what the results are; private, pay-as-you-go schools are not automatically better just because they aren't paid for through a government agency.) But let's not say silly things like "free means taxes paid for it."

But otherwise he seems to be a sensible liberalish sort. Don't pass up his account of being on the receiving end of some of the Worst Conversion Attempts Ever.

Magickal

Take the "How Do You Use Magic?" test! Written by Brimo

(Via ***Dave.)

Lookin' at a thing in a bag

Yup. I could use some drinks right now. I've run out of wine, dammit! And Publix is closed. And the other stores that are open late or all night are too far to walk. And I am in no shape to drive. Guess I'm gonna have to try the bag ploy...

(Via Michele. Why is Strongbad cool? No, don't try to answer. It will spoil everything...)

Upcoming

More boreblogging tomorrow, I promise. In the meantime, I leave you with these new blog-related terms that I thought of on the way home from work today:

Blogtastic (that one I may have seen somewhere).

Blogopoly -- it was Blogspot, but now everyone's opening up their own mom 'n' pop blogs with the help of software such as MT. Ah, capitalism!

Bloor -- a boorish blog. (No links -- think of your own examples.)

Bloos -- what I get when I can't blog.

Blooger -- a mistake on a blog; or, perhaps, a pointless blog post.

Blahg -- a boring and/or depressing blog.

Blogasm! -- an especially excited blog post; an overwrought blog post; a blog post that rises to a shrieking climax then collapses in exhaustion. Or: what a blogger experiences when they move off of Blogspot and onto their own server, and finally get the blogging software (not Blogger) working. Heh heh -- I said "rises."

The horror, the horror...

You know, I keep telling people how like hell the Seventies were, but I don't think they fully understand what those of us alive then survived through. This site may help.

(Via Neal Sheeran.)

An observation

Gosh, people sure do like monkeys.

Baht ahv cawse!

Bloggers get mail

Not me this time -- nothing can get through the John-Kerry-hairpiece-strength shield of Nigerian Spam that is currently occupying my email zone -- but other bloggers are receiving hate mail from peacenuggets bitter about the quick and decisive victory our forces are enjoying in "fearsome" Iraq. Of course, it's a real mistake to send a piece of lamebrained hatemail to someone whose blog is a roach motel for lefty softheads. Cases in point: Jim Treacher takes care of one, and then some real lobotomy case tried to take on Dipnut. Enjoy the carnage; I know I did. (I'm also taking notes -- I'm a good student that way.)

(Note: this post has had a spelling mistake corrected -- har har, I said "peace of lamebrained hatemail" instead of "piece." ROTFL.)

Dog story

And now, dogs in elk. No, it's not some arcane Canadian recipe.

(From Meryl.)

National Paralysis Radio

Aiee... can't move... must move... must get up and turn off radio.... snide British accent of announcer causing blood poisoning... getting weaker....

Hah! That's better. Jebus, what snotty guys these commentators are. Do they ever listen to themselves and realize, "God, what a snot-nose I sound like." (I was listening to the local classical station, if you must know, but they are another NPR-associated station in the Orlando area.)

So tempted

So tempted to forward MR. WILLAMS NELSON of South Africa (who wants me to handle some "confidential financial transactions" for him) the other offer I got from "Dr. Bonnie Lyon" to help me become "naturally slim." Or do you think he'd prefer 1 Year of Free Massages?

Meat! Meat! arrgghh...

And just when I start my More Meat, Less Pasta diet, James Lileks goes and puts up the most godawful photos of meat, from a Family Circle cookbook.

Another month is here

Another month. Don't these things ever run out?

Happy April 1st. Some of you are into that April Fools' Day thing. I'm not. In my experience (mine, I'm not intending to speak for anyone else) it is too often used as a chance to play those cruel little pranks that one dares not to at other times of the year. "I just got a call from your landlord! Your cat got out of the apartment when they went to fix the water heater, and got run over by the mailman!" "What?!?!?!!" "Ha ha! April Fool! Hee hee. Heh -- why are you holding the letter opener like that? The mail hasn't been delivered ye--aiiiEEEeeee...!!" "Ha ha! April Fool! Oops -- looks like that letter opener really was sharp, instead of just a joke! Oh well -- my bad!"

So as you can see I don't like April Fools' Day all that much. Take that as you will.

That being said, Robyn and Bjørn Stærk both have funny April Fools' Day things going on. Enjoy.

Update: oh, what the hell -- here's some more: Cold Fury has gone all mellow on us! Kim du Toit into quilting?!?! Inoperable Terran has gone Commie on us! Heh heh. You guys.

Live Human Shields Nude!

Something Awful has a novel suggestion of how human shields could be used more efficiently.

Tie hundreds of civilians and Iraqi prisoners to yourself, hot glue them to the surface of tanks and Humvees, and when that just isn't enough combine the protective flesh of hundreds of human shields with a mechanical exoskeleton to create a protective battledroid.

It's too bad Saddam Hussein has already been reduced to (pick your favorite):

1. gobbets of dictator-flesh
2. a nose hooked up to a life-support system
3. an overweight, rather ugly woman named "Layla"
4. Timmy!

What might have been...

Pinups, then and now

Dang, Jane Russell was hot.

Is it just me, or did women in the forties have some sort of confidence and glamour that modern women (at least, the ones who pose scantily clad) lack? I look at a picture of Jane Russell, or even Rita Hayworth, and I get the idea that there might be a brain behind all that lipstick. I look at a contemporary "sex object," and I get the idea that she really likes walks in the rain, drinks with little umbrellas in them, and has a collection of teddy bears on her bed. But what do I know.

Born too late

Well hell, I see that I was born in the wrong era (thousands of liberals agree! Click for larger):

Google this

Why is it that I can never find the image that I saw on the internet last week but didn't copy then? I knew I'd need it. But now I can't find it.

Suspicious!

Say, I seriously think this photo has been doctored. But what do I know, I'm no expert.

The softer side of Rummy

That Rumsfeld certainly is a multi-talented man. When he isn't smiting his enemies, beating up reporters, and otherwise keeping our country's morale on the steady, he's helping America keep it up in other areas.

(Via Pejman.)

Interlude

Ah. That felt better.

I still want some of you to go play in traffic though. Don't piss me off. This has been a public service announcement.

Comment weirdos

I think this war stuff is causing some people to blow their head gaskets. How else to account fot the non-sequitorish comments I am finding on five-month old posts in my defunct blog, like this one, where someone calling themselves "Celia" left the following totally-unrelated-to-the-subject (a brief statement of irritation at my cable provider) comment:

The flyer in my Time Warner cable bill has a contest for "San Diego's 50 best Moms" -- and they show a woman in pink, frying bacon and eggs. What year is it? Bastards.

Look, freaks -- and I mean that most kindly -- if you have a sudden thought, and have the urge to record it for posterity, the thing to do is to write it on a napkin, in your notepad, in MS Word, or ON YOUR OWN GODDAMN BLOG. Not in the comment section of an old post on someone else's website.

What the hell is next, grocery lists, people's phone numbers? Why don't you use my web space as a trashdump for something useful, like your bank account pin numbers? Thanks so much.

Update: though to be fair to Celia, maybe she thought I was upset at the content of my cable flyer too. I wouldn't know, though -- I throw everything from TWC in the garbage, including the bills.

Tasteless funny break

This is the sort of thing my friends send me. (Needs Shockwave.)

What. The. Hell.

This is so, um, gay. (The Poor Man made me look.)

Cliché update

Annoying War News Clichés, v. 2.0 has been updated. I know you were all waiting for more.

Update: best source for clichés is NBC teevee. They are slamming them out so fast that I can't keep up.

De-Frenchify yourself

Speaking of getting the French out, here's a little demonstration example display showing of how to remove take out all those French words that have been cluttering up English since the 11th century or so for over a thousand years.

(Via Big Pink Cookie.)

Mem'ries... all alone in the moo-oonlight...

Hey, does anyone know where I can get a floppy drive that takes 5 1/4" floppy disks? One that I can hook up to a computer running Windows XP Pro? I still have some unused floppies that size. I hate letting storage material go to waste. Maybe I can store something appropriate on them.

(Via Dean Esmay.)

My humour

You know, it's interesting how much of this is true:

Which Humor Troubles the Disposition of YOUR Body?

Your humor is: PHLEGM

Your personality is: phlegmatic
Your season is: winter
Your element is: water
Your qualities are: cold and moist
Your color is: white
Your organ is: the brain
Your lunar phase is: the new moon
Your opposing humor is: yellow bile

A phlegmatic personality is sluggish and dull, pale of complexion and cowardly of disposition.

This potentially dangerous imbalance can be treated with warming, drying foods and poultices to counteract the wetness. For instance, poisonous mushrooms are cold and must be treated by eating a hot substance, such as toasted garlic.

Those with an excess of phlegmatic humour should avoid salty foods and concentrate on hot and dry foods, like citrus fruit and dry French wines.

Black Hellebore, which is known for its laxative properties, purges lower tracts of phlegm and choleric humours.

Pituita, or phlegm is a cold and moist humour, begtotten of the colder parts of the chylus (or white juice coming out of the meat digested in the stomach) in the liver. His office is to nourish and moisten the members of the body.

(Via Max Power.)

List, list, o list!

Mr. Helpful has put up a list for our servicemen over in the Land of Sand: Top Ten Things To Do In Your Foxhole While Waiting For The War To Begin.

Release the hounds!

Uh oh -- James Lileks has just dissed Michele. (See the very last line of today's Bleat.)

News from my home town

Mr. Dave Barry has not blogged on this, so I will.

Miami - A Florida phone sex operator has won a workers' compensation settlement claiming she was injured after regularly masturbating at work, her lawyer said.

Oh no, you have to read the whole story, so you can learn why I am so glad I live in Orlando now. (That's right, the vicinity of the Disney Reich is an improvement over that of Miami and its environs.) By the way, I happen to know -- don't ask how I know, it's just the sort of thing you learn living in Miami even if you have no direct contact with such a profession, and I am sure I don't have to tell you I didn't -- that "phone sex" operators are not supposed to do anything sexual themselves other than talk. I'd like to know where her coworkers were while she was dialing the rotary phone* with her other hand. Or maybe the phone sex setup I heard stories about was actually one of the cleaner ones. Whatever.

*Yes, I went Googling for "euphemisms for female masturbation" to get that little expression. Of course I found a website dedicated to just that. My favorites so far are "auditioning the finger puppets," "checking for squirrels," and "double clicking your mouse."

(Via Pundit Ex Machina.)

Grr-animaux!

Further proof that the most formidable males in France are its fashion designers: Jean-Paul Gaultier (this is the guy who put the pointy metal bra on Madonna, if you care) had PETA anti-fur demonstrators carried off his fashion show stage wrapped in fur coats.

I really don't have anything to add to that, except to say that one way to get the French to pull their heads out of their derrieres re Iraq might be to play up the tackiness of the design of Saddam Hussein's many palaces. Or at least it would get the French fashion industry after him. Those people are dangerous.

(Via Rita.)

Get on your face and give me 25!

Need a little motivational jolt? Need to call the French someone "nothing but unorganized grabasstic pieces of amphibian shit"? Or at least to fantasize calling them that? Then get yourself over to the Full Metal Jacket Soundboard. I believe you will need Shockwave installed.

(Via Blogatelle.)

I need a butler

You know, some web version of that formal, intimidating character that was a staple of wealthy households of yore, who would take care of importunate visitors at the door with a stiff "the mistress is not in for callers." So I get an email a few days ago from Mr. Colin Roald. Now I got a lot of emails a few days ago, but I have also been sick, and I even pulled myself out of my sick shell to post this brief apology, which sat on my front page for the better part of at least two days. Anyway, he got tired of waiting for me to reply to his email about this ancient post of mine. (It's ancient in blog years, okay?) So I see a trackback link, to this post. (One day I will write a post so referential and link heavy that it will be totally meaningless if printed out. Could this be that day? Never mind.)

Okay, he wasn't impolite or anything, but I don't respond well to demands on my attention, even passive-aggressive ones like trackbacks.* So I put this in his comments:

Yeah dude, I got your email. I also have a life -- one that's just busy enough to keep me from being able to deal with everyone who wants a little Socratean tête-à-tête with me and my beliefs about life, the universe, and everything. Especially about old posts that have scrolled off my front page ages ago. (Yes, in my blog world, February 19th is ages ago.)

I may or may not respond, but I don't really see why I should. It certainly took you long enough to get back to me, so I don't see where you get off being Mr. Impatient. As you can see, I don't respond well to demands for my attention. Caveat lector.

Maybe I was unnecessarily bitchy. Perhaps I need to add a new line to the FAQ. Such as: I intend to avoid long, drawn-out arguments on subjects that quite simply can't be resolved after a certain point. It is my belief that the pro-war/anti-war argument is one of these. All I can do is state my belief on something, and/or point out why I think something else is wrong, but if I say that I have made up my mind on something it will do no good to try to argue me out of my position. And I am not particular interested in helping the wilfully obtuse "understand" me. Or maybe I should do a Rachel.

*New article idea for blog-phenom junkies: "Trackbacks: the New Passive-Aggressive Argument Technique."

Heh heh -- you said, "light saber"

Now it can be told: Star Wars is really an allegorical tale of coming to terms with homosexuality.

Am I black or white?

Uh oh -- (click for a larger pic)

How BLACK are you?

Brought to you by the good folks at sacwriters.com.

America the Beast

Simon Schama composes one of his collections of historical things, this time of European anti-American attitudes throughout our history. The condensed version of the general attitude of the various academic, upper-class, or artistic personnages who have visited here and been appalled could be something along the lines of: "America was mean to us and she smelled!" Yes, even from Charles Dickens.

Oh well. It just goes to prove that we are a hard and unforgiving country to people who come here with the idea that we are stupid and primitive and therefore easy to manipulate. Sooner or later we will hand your ass to you for that attitude. If you don't like it, stay home.

(Via Gary Farber.)

Doogie Howser goes goth

Okay, now this is scary. Not only does Neil Patrick Harris resemble my ex in the top photo, but he looks... totally unlike any of his previous roles in the one further down. Needless to say.

Further weirdnesses about this production of Cabaret: Debbie Gibson is playing the role of Sally Bowles. Okay, time to look for an mp3 of Mojo Nixon's "Debbie Gibson is Pregnant With My Two-Headed Love Child."

(Via Dave Tepper.)

Update: it would help if I provided the link, wouldn't it? (Added to the top line also.)

From the depths of the log files

I finally got around to looking at my search referrers on my logfiles (yes, I do have them, and I can see how many people have hit my page, whatever all those numbers mean) and I have found out that I'm famous, kinda (click for larger, and check out the column on the right):

Neat script. I like the site design too. It appeals to my "goth" side.

It came from the Seventies

James Lileks has pictures of the children's library in Hell.

Switch it off

A multitude of dangers await if you turn off your pc. You will:

• experience blurred vision
• go into St.-Vitus-dance-like convulsions
• be tempted into the sinful world of pool halls
• be attacked by a mob that you won't be able to see clearly because of your blurred vision.

(Visit the page to see what I am talking about. Link via .em.)

Part 2 of Spot the Evil Twin

Now remember, pick the evil twin:

Frodo Baggins

This Yu-gi-oh character

Spot the Evil Twin

Hey, boys and girls, welcome to my new game! It's called: Spot the Evil Twin! Today's entries are:

Official Australian Person Margo Kingston

Dominic Monaghan, aka "Merry"

Die, meme, die

Okay, I think I have had it up to here with the Khalid/Ron Jeremy joke. This makes at least the tenth blog I've read that has Khalid's ugly mug up next to Jeremy's only slightly-less unattractive photo. Come on, people, some of us have sensitive digestive systems.

You've got your peanut butter in my rant!

No, actually this American would have just asked politely for more peanut butter. After all, one itty-bitty packet is probably what her supervisor told her to give at first, probably to prevent wastage and/or pilfering. Not very customer-friendly, but I have been to restaurants where you had to ask for cream instead of that whitish "non-dairy product" for your coffee.

Now, if the waitress had said "No" to a request for more peanut butter, then heads would roll.

Update: now I'm beginning to wonder about what kind of people go for waitressing jobs in Canada. What, do they all resemble big, beefy ex-prison matrons? Is there a waitress union that will send some guys over to your place to smash your kneecaps if you don't meekly accept whatever the waitress gives you? Otherwise I am still not getting the "timid customer" theme here. I get that the idea that "the customer is always right" is just not adhered to in the kingdom of Peace, Order, and Good Government, but I don't get it. I guess it's an American blind spot. Or maybe it's the fact that I don't feel burdened by a culturally-imposed need to be polite, so therefore I find it easy to be polite. (Florida, at least the part of it I grew up in, has escaped that aspect of southern culture.)

And tipping has absolutely nothing to do with my point. I probably make less than Mr. Cosh -- in American dollars -- yet I try to tip at least the standard 15%. 20% if I am feeling flush; but that is the most anyone ever gets from me. There is no reason to feel obligated to give more -- 20% is one-fifth of what you paid, after all -- and no reason to feel guilty about it, and it is no one's fault but your own if you do. Intimidation should not be a factor in your outside dining experience, and if it is that should be a message that you might not want to patronize that eatery any more.

Save the humans

You can use them to flavor stew. (Via liberty punk.

Why are they so irritable?

Maybe it's because their gums are full of splinters from using natural, Allah-pleasing toothbrushes made out of twigs.

(Via hippies are for barbecuing.)

A great font site

Ooh, lots of fonts here. And they all seem to be free too. The site is snazzy also.

(Via Scriptygoddess.)

Not ready for prime time player

Wow. Charles Austin hasn't watched prime time tv longer than I haven't watched prime time tv. Respect.

(Note: you have to go to the latest Scourge of Richard Cohen, Vol. LXXIX -- Goobloggle is boggled.)

Terrible things

Don't support them!

High dudgeon

Ha ha ha ha ha!

Update: hahahahahahaha!

Weird search entry of the day

What the hell is a "muskegon" and why is someone searching my blog for it?

Ghost stories

Check out these cool gothy flash animations.

(Via Tex.)

Adults only

Well, my boss knows my website so I am probably going to have to start cleaning up my language one of these days, but those of you who have no such worries might like Tart Graphics for some elegantly erotic free blog templates. WARNING: these really are adult-only (as the intro page will tell you), so if you are blogging from work, have inquisitive children, or are squeamish about erotica, don't go to that link. I won't be responsible for what happens if you ignore my advice!

I'm not telling you what my favorite was. I can't tell you all my secrets. =^)

Who are these people?

Via new Canadian blogger Paul Jané comes this report on the Brit Award Ceremonies. I used to follow the British music scene, but I lost interest some time in the mid-Nineties. I looks as if I haven't missed much.

British pop stars are much exercised about all this scary war talk. Of paramount concern is the mess it will make:

Ms Dynamite - who won best British female artist and best urban act - performed a rewritten version of George Michael's track Faith which said: "I don't want blood on my hands."

Chemical weapons kill without all that messy blood, so perhaps this is why Saddam Hussein's use of them on his own citizens does not seem to upset anti-war activists so much.

They are also extremely worried about Der Bush's plans for them. Apparently word has gotten out about Operation Wrap Party (the Bush Junta's® plan to assassinate uppity celebrities):

Coldplay's Chris Martin, who had earlier joked about how his band were the best in the world - "except for [boy band] Blue" - turned serious when he picked up the best British album award.

"Awards are basically a nonsense and we're all going to die if George Bush has his way, but thanks for these two awards anyway," he told the 5,000-strong crowd.

Serious indeed! Why, the thought of a world without Coldplay's music is just... just... quite frankly it's no different from the thought of the world five minutes ago, before I had ever heard of these people.

Hob-Bit*: Apparently Elijah Wood and Liv Tyler were supposed to present something, or receive something (this report is not at all clear, and I don't really care) but they didn't show up. Hmm... could they have been tipped off?? After all, they've got someone on the inside.

*(Get it? Har! I kill myself.)

die, trend, die

No, I will not call them "freedom fries." Yeesh.

Why can't we do what the Brits do, and just call them "chips"?

Wild kingdom

Tonight's episode comes from Down Under, and is brought to you by James Morrow, an American currently held captive residing in Sydney. Here he has a couple of shots of Oz's version of the possum. And here is a feature on the elusive Tim Blair, shown emerging from his native burrow to forage in the wild.

Bloogle

Concerning the Google buyout of Blogger, Meryl Yourish has an interesting idea on what it all means.

I need a vacation

I need to go back to New Orleans. Now.

Error 404

Har!

(Via Kathy Kinslet, via E. Nough. All Hail Blogcest!

Most rigged quiz ever

No, really, it is. Go check it out and make sure you look at "see all possible results." Note how Mother Theresa, the staunch anti-abortionist, is the quiz-maker's idea of someone who is "0% Republican." Anyway, here's my result:

How Republican Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

Blog business

Watch out, all you Blogspot bloggers: you've got a new daddy.

(Via Richard Bennett.)

The Odd Couple

Ian Wood has an idea. Hey, I think it will work! [CHEAP SHOT] Tony Shalhoub can play Saddam. [/CHEAP SHOT]

La Cage aux Folles

Defend France! Or not.

For no particular reason

Yeah, I kinda know the feeling:

(click for larger)

Black is the new black

Oooh, how very goth: scientists have produced the blackest material ever:

The industrial coating for telescopes is one of the darkest and least reflective surfaces on Earth.

By minimising the scatter of stray light, it could improve the vision of telescopes, from amateur instruments to the mighty Hubble.

Several artists are said to be keen to use the new material because it is incredibly beautiful, "like black velvet".

(Via Reflections in D Minor.)

Gulf War II, the Gathering

Collect all the cards! Hey, at least it's not Yugio.

More hell

This post is notable not for its subject matter but for engendering the Best Comment Ever:

BURT REYNOLDS BURT REYNOLDS BURT REYNOLDS BURT REYNOLDS BURT REYNOLDS BURT REYNOLDS BURT REYNOLDS BURT REYNOLDS BURT REYNOLDS BURT REYNOLDS BURT REYNOLDS BURT REYNOLDS BURT REYNOLDS BURT REYNOLDS BURT REYNOLDS BURT REYNOLDS BURT REYNOLDS

Stinking up the meme pool

These clams are making a difference.

(Via Gary Farber. How do people find these things? I can't even imagine looking for them, let alone finding them.)

Geeks Are Hot

That's right, you read that correctly: go to GeekStud Magazine and find out why you're gonna have to be a geek to get laid from now on! Take that, Brad "So Over" Pitt!

(Via .em, who likes Elijah Wood, who gets to be an honorary Geek for playing a hobbit.)

Speaking of world domination...

Remember this meme? Well, it's mutated.

This is what hell is like

Oh my f***ing god.

Going to the dogs

Customs of my hometown: whenever it's a slow news week in Miami, there are always the illegal pit bull fights to investigate. (Other reliable sources of South Florida downtime filler: cockfighting, Those Wacky Santerías, corruption at City Hall.)

(Via the Meatriarchy.)

Cool web thing

Draw a picture with this cool web thing.

(Via Silflay Hraka.)

Miracles of Modern Medicine

More of that horrible hegemonic oppressive paternalistic fascist Western science: doctors performing experimental surgery not only managed to reattach this kid's head to his body, but the kid is back on his feet and playing basket ball.

How awful. Destroy the US and institute sharia law immediately.

(Via Dave Tepper.)

Bizarre foreign customs

I guess it's true that the various English-speaking nations of the world are divided by a common language; or else this Australian reporter now assigned to the US has had her leg successfully pulled. Or else she has, like so many expatriate Americans are accused of doing, ensconced herself in a cocoon of fellow Aussies so as to keep the natives at a safe distance. I can't really figure out any other possible explanations for this:

Shov told me the trees have real meaning for Americans. They find our practice of heading out and buying a box of balls and tinsel and decorations quite offensive. Here, most of the tree ornaments have been gifts, or items of significance at one time or another. That way, your tree has a history, and as you put it up every year, you remember different people and loved ones by what you hang on the tree.

Via Angie Schultz Also -- side note: to the post above where she complains about the California-bashing supposedly engaged in by Glenn Reynolds -- I don't see that he is doing a lot of California bashing as opposed to Bay Area bashing (the San Francisco Bay Area), and to be fair most of it is from people whose emails he posted. Then one letter-writer took offense at a post where all he did was reprint pictures of some of the peace-loons' ridiculous signs and quote a correspondent who went to the peace rally in San Francisco. He is obviously not impressed with the peace protestors, but who is (who isn't involved with them, anyway). Then in this post, again, he does say it is too easy to engage in regional bashing, and reprints some of the emails from people in California telling him about the whole rest of the state that is not apparently given over to leftist idiocy. All I can say is I have some friends who moved to San Francisco, it being a lifelong dream of theirs. Well, as of this year they are back in Florida, which they had condemned as hell on earth. Let's just say San Francisco proved to not exactly be the place of their dreams. But that is only one city, and California is a big state.

As for myself, I have been to Los Angeles, and I was more favorably impressed than not. The city atmosphere and horrid traffic did not bother me: I lived in Miami, notorious for its urban annoyances and the insane driving. The weather in July was dry and cool -- I mean it was what we considered winter weather in South Florida: in the seventies during the day and in the fifties at night. That immediately raised it several points in my estimation. There were lots of good restaurants, such as the Thai restaurant that was open until 4am. There were plenty of parklands around -- we went up to that observatory whose name I forget (it's famous). Having mountain ranges inside greater city limits was a thrill to a woman from the flat swamplands. There was Canter's, open twenty-four hours. There was a Cuban restaurant, which although staffed by Mexicans served real Cuban coffee. And so on. (The beach was a joke -- that pathetic little brown strip of sand -- but I don't care much about the beach so that was no big deal.)

I've heard horror stories about the public-pooping, in-your-face bums and crack whores of San Francisco, as well as the Politically Correct insane asylum that is the Berkely area, but perhaps this is an exaggeration. In any case, California-bashing is as old as the state of California. People have been making fun of the place ever since it was known as the place to go hunt for gold and get killed over a no good worthless claim (excuse me, I just had a flashback to the Marshall Tucker Band, it won't happen again). It's kind of late in the day to complain about it now; if Cali hasn't buckled under the weight of all the jokes by now, then it never will. Until, of course, the Big One hits and it falls into the ocean.

Ecce Homo

Culture War! Guest poster Michael L. at 2Blowhards, in a post about the non-artist public's perceptions of the Artist as an ideal conforming to a certain stereotype, made the mistake of using the "D-word" (democracy). This set off the alarm in the underground lair of A.C. Douglas, where humanity's last few remaining works of Art are guarded in a hermetically-sealed, oxygen-free chamber, safe from the polluting eyes of the dreaded Common Man. (Yup -- that Mona Lisa in the Louvre is a cheap reproduction, purchased at Wal-Mart -- the French smuggled the real painting to ACD via submarine and secret railway; now it is safe from the barbarian hordes and their plastic laser swords and collector's cards.) Our intrepid Curator of the Museum of Man lost no time in beaming over to the comments section where he put his mad ninja skilz to work, leaving no hairs unsplit and no sentence unparsed to the very vowels and consonants. Michael attempted to gain points by confessing to "annoyance" at the Common Man's "drug-like" attachment to the Idea of the Artist as a Certain Stereotype, but ACD is having none of it -- he knows a quisling to the Cause when he sees it and he takes no prisoners. Still, the battle rages on. Will the Blowhards succeed in their attempts to let the Common Man eat at the sit-down lunch counter with the Artists? Will ACD ever stop acting like an outtake from Zoolander? Who knows! Stay tuned.

Update: Main Michael at 2Blowhards has put the smack down (see the last comment). Now that's some kung-fu.

Bring it to me baby

Well, I had to post a comment to this; a snarky one, of course, because I am the OS (Original Snarkosaurus).

PS: how could I forget? For more on the raging Komments Kontroversy*, go here. For more Is It Snobbery or Is It Autonomy?, go here and then here. (Say, when is the invasion going to start? Hurry, Dubya, the bloggers are starting to eat their young.)

*I could call it the Krazy Komments Kontroversy and make it an Aaagghh! Racism! threefer.

Boobs tubed

Dear Vivienne Westwood,

I'm sorry to have to be the one to inform you of this, but I can keep silent no longer. Sure, you were "all that" when punk broke, you and your carefully-ripped t-shirts and designer-perv rubber wear, but that was over twenty years ago. It is clear that your mad designer skilz jumped the shark just about the same time "Goody Two-Shoes" dropped off the Top Ten list. NO ONE is going to buy boobs for men to wear, especially boobs that look as if someone cut the ends off a pair of those cone-shaped paper cups and stuck them underneath the sweater at the last minute. The most garish, fakola stage trannies are laughing at your so-called "falsies" as I write. Even they wouldn't wear something that amateurish. And not even the femmest homosexual on the planet will buy and wear something called a "blouson." Y-chromosomes are y-chromosomes, and every single one in his body will rise up in protest to prevent such a fashion catastrophe. So give it up, luv. It's time to retire.

Sincerely,
Andrea Harris

(Via Anne Wilson.)

"What's that thing coming towards me VERY FAST...?"

The Exploding Whale Incident, billed as "most wonderful event in the history of the universe" by none other than Dave Barry.

(Via Mr. Helpful. This one is for Neal.)

I notice things

Look what I spy with my little eye in the latest Mark Steyn (where he makes wicked fun of Motionless Andrew):

Typical, I wanted to say. Even at the Guardian, they're getting off on the pornography of war. Instead, I said calmly: "OK, so I don't know the technical terms for your inter-ballistic thingy, OK? We all have our areas of expertise." (Bolds mine -- A.H.)

Joe Queenan, Prince of Darkness

Actually, I think Queenan's usually pretty funny -- at least he occasionally makes fun of his own cultural snobbery. Then again, I haven't read his books for a few years (they sit there in my bookcase, neglected, remnants of a time when I too played the Kultursnob game). But I do agree with Angie Schultz about the anti-Red Lobster diatribe in Red Lobster, White Trash, and the Blue Lagoon. I remember thinking at the time, "Shorts and t-shirts? He and his son wore shorts and t-shirts to a sit-down restaurant where they make you wait for a table and give you real silverware? What slobs." I mean, I live in Florida, where the restaurants actually have signs saying "Shirt and shoes required." There went the last bits of my reverse snobbery concerning people from up north and their superior dressing habits; I had previously been under the impression that you could be kept out of Denny's up north if your suit was off-the-rack.

Jack into the matrix

Yeah, yeah, I know -- not original. Anyway. William Gibson now has a blog. It's brand new, and I have the feeling it's not going to have permalinks. It's got that "top" target link at the bottom of the one and only entry instead, like Neil Gaiman's blog uses. What is it with writers' blogs without permalinks? All I can figure is they must use the same web designer or program to set them up. Anyway, it looks good otherwise. Personally, Gibson's work has never interested me much. The only thing I ever read through of his was a short story featuring Case and Molly that appeared in Omni magazine back in the late Seventies or early Eighties. His cyber-noir style just sort of leaves me cold after a while. I remember reading an interview with him where he hilariously confessed to being pissed off, when he finally got around to buying a personal computer, that instead of some neat crystalline thing data was stored on these prosaic flat plastic diskettes.

Website closure threat!

Alert! Mr. Kim du Toit is threatening to shut down his Reader Mail section if no one visits! And that would be a bad thing. For instance, you'd miss stuff like his perfect rejoinder to silly letters like this. So what are you waiting for?

Chop chop

Time to curl up with my wack Fellowship of the Ring dvds. It's all about warmongery, doncha know.

Um

Okay. This website swears that these little figurines are part of a Catalonian tradition concerning a certain bodily function. All I can say is, I have met people who hailed from that part of Spain and I don't remember this subject coming up. Catalàn is a fascinating language, by the way. Yeah, concentrate on the language...

(Via Jerry Kindall.)

I am the ruler of all I survey

Create your own country at Jennifer Government: NationStates. (Caveat: this website is slow. Via Ith.)

Food of the Gods

You can get mallomars in Virginia. I was under the impression that they no longer even made mallomars, being that they seem to have vanished from all the grocery shelves down here in Floridor.

Destroy all squirrels!

Create your own petition. Something to do on a rainy day, especially after a few beers...

I was a Grade-Z Movie Star

Sure, Viggo Mortenson has made some silly statements and worn the "No Blood For Oil" t-shirt and so on. But he was also in Leatherface: Texas Chainsaw Massacre III. Everything in perspective. (Gee, I hope I haven't ruined anyone's enjoyment of his role in LOTR.)

The Return

Bleat is back. (Apparently we aren't supposed to link to Lileks anymore because everyone does. I read that somewhere, I forget where. The person who wrote that didn't think that if everyone stopped linking to Lileks because everyone linked to Lileks, then everyone wouldn't be linking to Lileks, would they?)

Collapsing Old Buildings

Via Colby Cosh comes the news that Brighton's West Pier collapsed into the sea during a storm. It was a historic building, and so "cannot legally be demolished." They forgot to tell Mother Nature.

No wonder it's been acting so crazy

It's the age of the average frat boy: the internet is twenty years old today. (Via Daily Pundit.)

Smarter blog

The Mad Swede behind Smarter Harpers now has a regular blog.

(Via Cut on the Bias.)

Gaijin

Jaysus: New adult videos deal a low blow to manhood:

Shukan Taishu (9/16) notes that loads of punters are getting their kicks out of flicks where chicks do kicks -- right between the legs of naked men.

Surprisingly, the main market for tamakeri (ball kicking) videos is apparently not among young women stressed out at living in a male-dominated society, but mostly young guys who get off on the idea of being punted in the privates.

(Via Dilacerator.)

Burning down the house

Bar-B-Q Sauce, made by a Man. It's what's for dinner! (Nothing else, though -- dumb subbitch forgot to buy meat or buns!)

Via Bill Quick, who is going to have to find me now! Bwahahahahaha!!