MORNING MUSINGS
Some days I wake up and look outside, and the sun is shining and I feel pretty good about myself and I'm overwhelmed with an assurance that things aren't really that bad, that people are more or less reasonable, sane and normal, and society isn't actually going to hell in a handbasket. I feel confident that all the pain and suffering and noise and ugliness in the world is merely the result of a small misunderstanding, the consequence of everyday human errors that anyone could make, but that nobody means to make, and that all the problems of the world really aren't that bad and everything will be alright. "Human beings are alright," I think to myself. "I think I'll stay one."
Then I read things like this.
And I snap out of it.
How do I transfer out of this chicken outfit?
**UPDATE**
Ok, so the stupid sandwich didn't actually sell for $28,000. Such was the highest bid, but it was illegitimate. The casino that bought the silly thing only paid $71.
It's still ridiculous. More so are the copycats--check out the link posted in the comments section by MB.
Not to plagiarize or anything, but...
MADNESS!!
Tuesday, November 23, 2004
Monday, November 22, 2004
MY SECRET VICE
Generally speaking, I dislike cursing. To be more accurate, I dislike the manner in which we moderns curse--there may be a certain niftiness to the versatility of certain words such that one can construct the sentence F--- the f---ing f---ers, but English is replete with a multitude of adjectives with which one can communicate a far more colorful and precise sentiment, as:
Wherewith one expresses that one wishes that the smelly cowards would spontaneously acquire a nasty rash. They may not actually be smelly, or cowards, and the chances that said rash will appear are slim, but the sentence is nonetheless laden with an imagery unsurpassed by the overused "f---ing f---ers."
All of which is to say, I find cursing generally lazy as it is most frequently practiced--if one wishes to complain, excessive sexual invective communicates little more than a frustration so intense as to undermine all creativity and true expression of emotion. One could communicate as much with the well-attested inarticulate-cry-of-anguish.
With that caveat, however, permit me to confess one of my dearest secret vices.
When I get my hands on a new dictionary, I look up curse words. Because I mourn and abhor the modern State of the Expletive, I find amusement and, quite frequently, the most fascinating little tidbits of history, language and even human nature in the expletives of our forefathers, such as provide relief from with the monochrome usage of the present era. Example?
According to this web site (which is by no means the final authority, but I don't have my hands on an OED at the moment, so it'll have to do), the first appearance of the F-bomb in English literature is hidden in the "scurrilous 15c. poem," Flen flyys, as follows:
The pertinent reference is concealed beneath a simple cipher--if one replaces the individual letters comprising the gobbledegook of the dependent clause above with the preceding letter in the Middle English alphabet, the following is rendered.
The subject of the poem is, apparently, a few naughty friars. Hence, translating this quote of combined Latin and Middle English, we find that the anonymous poet is warning of the eternal state of aforementioned friars.
Ah, the things you learn from dictionaries.
Generally speaking, I dislike cursing. To be more accurate, I dislike the manner in which we moderns curse--there may be a certain niftiness to the versatility of certain words such that one can construct the sentence F--- the f---ing f---ers, but English is replete with a multitude of adjectives with which one can communicate a far more colorful and precise sentiment, as:
A pox upon the stenchiferous poltroons!
Wherewith one expresses that one wishes that the smelly cowards would spontaneously acquire a nasty rash. They may not actually be smelly, or cowards, and the chances that said rash will appear are slim, but the sentence is nonetheless laden with an imagery unsurpassed by the overused "f---ing f---ers."
All of which is to say, I find cursing generally lazy as it is most frequently practiced--if one wishes to complain, excessive sexual invective communicates little more than a frustration so intense as to undermine all creativity and true expression of emotion. One could communicate as much with the well-attested inarticulate-cry-of-anguish.
With that caveat, however, permit me to confess one of my dearest secret vices.
When I get my hands on a new dictionary, I look up curse words. Because I mourn and abhor the modern State of the Expletive, I find amusement and, quite frequently, the most fascinating little tidbits of history, language and even human nature in the expletives of our forefathers, such as provide relief from with the monochrome usage of the present era. Example?
According to this web site (which is by no means the final authority, but I don't have my hands on an OED at the moment, so it'll have to do), the first appearance of the F-bomb in English literature is hidden in the "scurrilous 15c. poem," Flen flyys, as follows:
Non sunt in coeli, quia gxddbov xxkxzt pg ifmk.
The pertinent reference is concealed beneath a simple cipher--if one replaces the individual letters comprising the gobbledegook of the dependent clause above with the preceding letter in the Middle English alphabet, the following is rendered.
Non sunt in coeli, quia fwccant wwiwys of Heli.
The subject of the poem is, apparently, a few naughty friars. Hence, translating this quote of combined Latin and Middle English, we find that the anonymous poet is warning of the eternal state of aforementioned friars.
They are not in heaven, because they f--- wives of Ely (a town near Cambridge).
Ah, the things you learn from dictionaries.
Wednesday, November 03, 2004
AN APOLOGY
This is my blog. I am a blogger.
If anyone is left to read, let it be known among you that this is a bad blog, and I am a bad blogger.
It's in my nature. I do things consistently for days, weeks, even months, then get distracted and forget to post, or don't have anything worthwhile to post, or have a million great ideas for lengthy, Pulitzer-winning posts. Which would take a long time to do well, and I inevitably procrastinate on taking that time, so they never happen.
The point is, I consider it high time to admit this and 'fess up publicly. Perhaps I should put it on my blog description up above. But that would take time, so you all know that it will never happen. Nonetheless, I am admitting this most heinous fault of mine, so let the world take note.
I will continue to blog. I will continue to opine. I will continue to bloviate.
And I will continue to disappear from the face of the blogosphere for days, weeks and, yes, even months at a time. I beg your indulgence--this is a mirror of my life, and long hiatuses (hiati?) are apparently an inexcisable part of my nature. So please don't remove me from your link rolls, please keep checking back every now and again--and please feel free to crucify me verbally in the comments section. It's below. Have at it.
This is my blog. I am a blogger.
If anyone is left to read, let it be known among you that this is a bad blog, and I am a bad blogger.
It's in my nature. I do things consistently for days, weeks, even months, then get distracted and forget to post, or don't have anything worthwhile to post, or have a million great ideas for lengthy, Pulitzer-winning posts. Which would take a long time to do well, and I inevitably procrastinate on taking that time, so they never happen.
The point is, I consider it high time to admit this and 'fess up publicly. Perhaps I should put it on my blog description up above. But that would take time, so you all know that it will never happen. Nonetheless, I am admitting this most heinous fault of mine, so let the world take note.
I will continue to blog. I will continue to opine. I will continue to bloviate.
And I will continue to disappear from the face of the blogosphere for days, weeks and, yes, even months at a time. I beg your indulgence--this is a mirror of my life, and long hiatuses (hiati?) are apparently an inexcisable part of my nature. So please don't remove me from your link rolls, please keep checking back every now and again--and please feel free to crucify me verbally in the comments section. It's below. Have at it.
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