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Sunday, February 29
Oscars
What the heck. I'm watching the Oscars, so here are the results as they happen. Barring unforseen network problems, this entry will be updated "as-it-happens". Others are doing this too, but it gives me something to do during the boring speeches.
Lord of the Rings Counter: 11 CLEAN SWEEP!
| [-] «Expand the award results. |
Best Actor in a Supporting Role - Tim Robbins (Mystic River)
Achievement in Art Direction - Grant Major, et al (Lord of the Rings)
Best Animated Feature - Finding Nemo
Achievement in Costume Design - Ngila Dickson, et al (Lord of the Rings)
Best Actress in a Supporting Role - Renée Zellweger (Cold Mountain)
Holy crap! Bob Hope is still alive?!
Best Live Action Short - Two Soldiers
Best Animated Short - Harvey Krumpet (Adam Elliot)
Why is Liv Tyler dressed as an ugly librarian?
Best Visual Effects - Jim Rygiel et al (Lord of the Rings)
Honorary Award - Blake Edwards
Achievement in Makeup - Richard Taylor, et al (Lord of the Rings)
Achievement in Sound Mixing - Christopher Boyes (Lord of the Rings)
Achievement in Sound Editing - Richard King (Master and Commander)
Honorary Award - Katherine Hepburn. Posthumous.
Holy shit. Can Sean Penn act, or what?! (Mystic River)
Best Documentary Short - Chernobyl Heart
Best Documentary Feature - The Fog of War
Best Original Score - Howard Shore (Lord of the Rings)
Achievement in Film Editing - Jamie Selkirk (Lord of the Rings)
Best Original Song - Into the West, Annie Lennox (Lord of the Rings)
Best Foreign Language Film - Les Invasions Barbares
Achievement in Cinematography - Russell Boyd (Master and Commander)
Best Adapted Screenplay - The Lord of the Rings
Best Original Screenplay - Lost in Translation
Achievement in Directing - Peter Jackson (Lord of the Rings)
Best Leading Actress - Charlize Theron (Monster)
That's one category where they all deserved it!
Best Leading Actor - Sean Penn (Mystic River)
Best Motion Picture - The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King
That's Umpossible!
Keep those suggestions flowing, please! The more material I get the better, as it appears to be working. At the moment it seems it's a rant you want... well, a rant you shall get.
I'm really getting tired of the amount misinformation that's perpetuated by the schools and media. I can hardly reverse the abuse born from years of cut-rate schooling, but I can try to polish a clean spot into that dreck you call an education. The spot I choose is science. Open your lesson books to page one, and we'll get started. And don't let me catch you chewing gum (which, incidentally, isn't gum; it's synthetic rubber).
The vacuum of space isn't cold. If a vacuum was cold, your thermos would freeze your soup. A perfect vacuum is a perfect insulator. Since there is no convection, energy transfer takes place through radiation. In fact, the biggest problem astronauts have is getting rid of excess heat, not getting too cold. Since they can't carry around huge radiator fins, a common technique is to make space suits vent air (and with it, heat). And while we're at it, you aren't "sucked" into space when the door falls off your space station. You're "pushed" by the air that is rushing into space now that there is nothing holding it back. Oh, and you aren't sucking your drink up a straw, either. It gets pushed up by the surrounding air pressure.
You won't explode in a vacuum. Most movies get that wrong to be dramatic. 2001 - A Space Odyssey was probably the closest. It hasn't been directly tested on humans, and nobody is admitting to testing it on animals, but well established theory suggests a human would remain more-or-less fully functional in a hard vacuum for about 30 seconds. The trick would be to make sure you don't hold any air in your lungs (they'd rupture from the expansion). Injuries would likely be minor (ear drum problems, small hemorrhages in the skin and eyes, etc.). Joeseph Kittinger actually performed a free-fall from 102,800 ft (you read that right). His glove was faulty and his hand was in a near vacuum for several minutes. It swelled painfully, but was otherwise unharmed.
The speed of light varies. Many people think that "the speed of light is a constant". That's not quite right. The speed of light in a vacuum is a constant (670,616,629 mph), but it changes in different materials. That's what causes refraction and why optical lenses work. What's particularly counterintuitive is that as light travelling slowly in a dense material exits into a vacuum it resumes travelling at its "top speed". Scientists have even stopped light. Sort of. They converted it to a quantum spin for a short period and then released it on its merry way. Gravity, too, travels at the speed of light. Chalk another one up for Einstein.
The first craft to soft-land on the moon wasn't American. It was Russian. Luna 9, in 1966. The first probe successfully landed on another planet wasn't American. It was Russian. On August 17, 1970, the Venera-7 probe soft-landed on Venus. It lasted a very respectable 23 minutes in a most inhospitable environment. Others followed. The first "rovers" weren't American, either. They were Russian. The Lunokhod moon rover missions were extremely successful. The first one landed on November 17, 1970. The Russians also launched the first earth satellite (Sputnik - October 4, 1957), the first man into orbit (Yuri Gagarin - April 12, 1961), the first woman into space (Valentina Tereshkova - June 14, 1963), and the first space station (Salyut 1 - April 19, 1971).
And I'll close with a whole pile of quick ones: Microwaves don't cook food from the inside out. They cook from the outside in, just like a normal oven. Dentists stopped using Novacaine years ago. The start of a CD is nearest the hub, not the outer edge. The odds of winning a 6/49-type lottery with the numbers 1,2,3,4,5,6 are exactly the same as any other combination of numbers. Pure water doesn't conduct electricity (it's actually a pretty good insulator). What almost everyone calls a calorie is actually a kilocalorie. 20-20 vision isn't perfect, it's just average. You set your furnace based on a comfortable rate for your body to cool, not to heat. If you did otherwise, you'd die quickly. If you've just rolled twelve 4's in a row on a standard die, your odds of rolling another one is still 1 in 6. Heat and temperature are two different things. A cool bathtub holds more heat than a boiling cup of tea. The light bulb was invented by Canadian Henry Woodward in 1874. He sold the patent to Edison. Canadians also invented, among other things, the first jet-fighter G-suit, the telephone, the variable-pitch propeller, the quartz clock, the zipper, the pacemaker, standardized time, the television, and the walkie-talkie.
Saturday, February 28
Led Around by the Tale
I admit it. I'm out of ideas. I can't think of anything to write about. I suppose I could turn to the news. I'm sure I could put a blog entry together about Mad Max Gibson being a loonie that shoots off his canon [sic] only for profit, or about that egocentric megalomaniac Bush being the most dangerous man on earth, but that seems at the same time too easy and too much like work. Nobody wants another blog entry from the Department of the Fucking Obvious, anyway.
I'm turning to you for help. Leave a comment, topic, phrase, concept, writing style, plot, theme, or anything else that you think might drag me from beneath this writers block. The only prize I can offer is the chance that you'll get to see your wholesome efforts abused, perverted and corrupted by the putrid swamp that is my blog.
While we're at it, I also want to encourage anyone who passes quietly in the night to take a moment to leave a comment if only to say "Hi". Most of the new blogs I visit belong to strangers who leave comments. More than one has ended up on my Blogroll.
Thursday, February 26
A Good Book, If Urine To Politics
James Carville was on Late Night with Conan O'Brien tonight. I've seen him on other talk shows, and always liked his outspoken attitude. He outdid himself today. I've just got to share with you something he quoted from his book "Had Enough -- a Handbook for Fighting Back".
I don't think I want a president that's on a short leash held by Jerry Falwell like Bush is. I don't think the audience does either [large cheer]. I don't like Jerry Falwell, and he knows it. After all, I said in my book that I wouldn't piss down his throat if his heart was on fire.
Brilliant! I think I'll buy the book just to see that in print.
Tuesday, February 24
No, I Don't Want More!
I'm reading a book in the living room. The TV is on, but I'm not paying attention to it. Unfortunately, a large chunk of my brain -- the part that would alert me to lions if I was dozing on the Serengeti -- always leaps into action if something stupid is uttered nearby. I closed my book and looked over at the TV in disbelief. A professionally made commercial was just ending. I couldn't believe what I'd just heard, but there it was also written on the screen. It was a tag line.
What was this tag line of which a restaurant was so proud?
Each bite more succulent than the next!
There is a restaurant out there somewhere that seriously needs to sue their advertising agency.
Did you miss it? Think about that tag line. They got it backwards. If each bite is more succulent than the next, it means they're bragging that your meal will get less and less appetizing with each bite you take. Not exactly the sort of concept I look for in a restaurant.
I suppose it could be a real money saver if you ran an all-you-can-eat buffet.
Monday, February 23
Does the Knife Hurt When I Twist It Like This?
I haven't posted for a while, have I? Sorry about that. I would have posted this weekend, but I got to spend most of it in an emergency room. I had just about the most painful chest pains I've ever had, so headed down to the hospital. If when I blew out my knee skiing was, say, a 4... this pain was about a 9. Seriously. It didn't match a heart attack, so aside from thinking I was dying of something other than a heart attack, I wasn't too worried.
I walked out of the hospital about 9 hours later with a stack of paper for my regular doctor. Definitely no heart problems, and I was feeling better, so they told me to go to my family physician and tell her to screen me for pancreatitis. What's pancreatitis? I didn't know either.
I thought the pancreas made insulin and that was it. Apparently it makes all the enzymes used to digest protein and carbohydrates. Well, these enzymes are supposed to stay dormant until they reach your small intestine. Sometimes they don't. They can activate while they're still in your pancreas. That's a problem since your pancreas is made of, yep, protein. The pancreas starts to digest itself. Yeah. Ewww. Hence the pain, I guess.
Oh, and in case you get asked on Jeopardy, bile is produced by your liver. It's bile that breaks down fat, not the pancreatic enzymes. Now you know.
I'll probably post my next "Blogger Idol" in a few days. The theme this week is going to be "Movies".
Wednesday, February 18
The Nerfing of Our Youth
Soft, rounded corners. Baby proofing. This bag is not a toy... I call this the nerfing of our youth. What ever happened to survival of the fittest?
When I grew up there was no such thing as bicycle helmets and knee pads. It didn't hurt us. It thickened our skulls to prepare them for adulthood. Scraped knees reinforced our skin with more robust scar tissue. They don't even have some of my favorite toys on the market any more.
Do you remember lawn darts? Heavy steel tipped darts with large plastic fins. Do you remember the first game you played with them? It was called "how high will it go if I throw it straight up into the air". Well, there were some close calls as the heavy steel projectile came whistling back to earth, sure, but you survived didn't you? And your reflexes are all the better for it. A life lesson that cost you nothing! Well, perhaps you lost a few of your slower friends, but that's in the past.
Air rifles? An excellent toy to test a six year old. You ensure they're ready for bigger responsibilities and all you risk is the partial blindness of one of their friends. At most, it gives you the opportunity to teach your child how to grieve over the loss of a pet.
Super-slider Snow Skates. These were slick plastic covers for your winter boots. They were molded from a teflon-like plastic that completely negated any friction your young feet may have had with an icy toboggan slope. I'm positive that the repeated pounding that my lower spine took as a result of my inability to remain standing was instrumental in making my vertebrae thicker and wear resistant. I'm pretty sure they also introduced me to general relativity. Those few times I was able to remain upright, I shot down the hill so fast that I'm pretty sure I went back in time, at least a little bit.
Before it's too late, you must rescue your children from devolving completely into Nerf foam. Next time you're teaching a child to ride a bike, do them a favour. As they're approaching a low tree limb be sure to distract them. A few minor skull fractures will ready them for their adult years.
Monday, February 16
Week 5: Picture This
Update» It's voting time for week 5. Here are a few other Blogger Idol entries I liked this week, in no particular order:
Grandma's changing painting
A civil war breaks out
Customer service
Week 1: The 80's
Week 2: Freedom
Week 3: A Day in the Life of...
Week 4: Oops
Week 5: Picture This
Picture This
The office was a strange mix of modern furniture and antique reproduction art. It had been designed with care, though, and the overall effect was a relaxing and comfortable waiting room.
Looking up from his work, the receptionist said, "I'm really sorry for the wait Mr. and Mrs. Drummond. We're ready for you now. Do you have your forms and the photograph you'll be using?"
"Yes, we have everything here," said Jen as she and her husband Phil walked up to the counter. The receptionist took the folder and quickly examined the forms. He made noises of approval as he typed some of the details into his terminal. He took the photograph and placed it into a scanner.
"This looks excellent," said the receptionist as he examined the scanned image. "I'll start the archive search in a few minutes. Please understand that the search can sometimes take several hours. However, your photograph shows a large section of shoreline and the lighthouse is an excellent identifying feature. I expect we'll have a match when you're done getting into costume."
It was Jen's favourite photo. It was a picture of a young lady walking towards the surf on an empty beach. She was dragging a large towel and pointing as if to say, "is this a good spot?" The beach ended to her left as it turned into a jagged peninsula. Far into the distance, a red and white lighthouse stolidly warned passing boats clear of the rocky outcropping.
A light above a door next to the receptionist's desk changed from red to green. "You can both proceed to the fitting rooms now. Once you're dressed, you may then proceed through to the studio."
Jen and Phillip changed into antique costumes and walked through to the studio. One side was filled with photography equipment, the other side was a slightly raised stage in front of a white wall. There were some chairs near the door they'd just come through. Phil and Jen were just about to sit down when a well dressed lady entered the room.
"Mr. and Mrs. Drummond, I presume?" she said. "I'm your photographer, Dianne. Your archive search is already complete, so we're ready to go. I think that's a speed record. You obviously had an excellent source photograph."
Dianne checked their costumes and made a few minor adjustments. She then led them onto the stage and placed them in a casual pose.
"Ok. That looks fine. Are you both ready?"
Phil looked at his wife and smiled. "Happy anniversary, Sweetheart."
"It certainly is, Phil! A very happy anniversary!", said Jen.
They exchanged a quick kiss, and linked arms. "We're ready." they said, together.
There was a shockingly bright flash of light. A wave of mild vertigo washed over Phil and he felt his ears pop. His wife staggered a bit then regained her balance. They both blinked to clear their vision and looked around.
A few paces in front of them stood a young man. He had a Brownie box camera in his hands, and he appeared to be winding on the film. In front of him walked a young lady dragging a large beach towel.
"Is this a good spot?" she called back to the young man.
Phil gave Jen a squeeze, kissed her on the forehead, and whispered, "We have three and a half hours, Sweety."
With that, Jen and Phil walked down the beach towards the couple. Jen had forgotten everything she had planned to say. After all, how often do you introduce yourself to your great-great-great-grandparents?
Sunday, February 15
The End of the World Ain't Nigh
A bunch of gay couples were legally married in Canada today. Did you notice anything? I'll tell you what I noticed:
The world didn't end today.
No aspect of my life changed today.
A handful more humans are happy today.
A lot of people are willing to go on TV and show themselves to be inflexible bigots.
A lot of those people seemed to think their religion gave them the right to be a bigot.
Nothing gives someone the right to be a bigot.
I also noticed that Canada is getting a lot of positive world press because we are so "tolerant and accepting". Well, we're getting there, but that isn't really deserved yet. Gay marriages are recognized only in Ontario and British Columbia. Canada also has an embarrassing history of systematically destroying the culture, health, and will of our aboriginal peoples. We still do little to correct that. One small step at a time, I guess. We have a long way to go.
That was a little intense for what I consider to be a humour blog. I guess I just feel gay couples have every right to crappy tax benefits and being denied sex as heterosexual couples. Ah. That's the ticket. End on an up note.
Saturday, February 14
Down in the Dumps
I have always avoided posting "link only" entries in this blog. I try very hard to keep my blog content original. I've come to realize over the last little while that this sometimes prevents me from bringing something interesting to your attention. Most of the time I can get away with an "aside" (one of the gray boxes that frequently follow my entries), but sometimes I don't want to interrupt the "flow" by using one of those.
It dawned on me today that I can set up another blog for those links without changing the way I like to publish on this blog. So, I introduce you to a new blog that will hold all those links and recommendations:
Shouting into the Void - The Link Dump
Now, I hardly expect anyone to start making that site a daily visit. I have enabled the Atom XML news feed on it, if that suits your fancy though. I'm going to think of some unobtrusive way of indicating updates on this blog that won't interrupt the general flow of things. We'll see how that goes.
Update» I'll be using a "NEW LD" arrow graphic (
) to indicate when I add some content to my link-dump blog. It will be appearing to the upper or lower right of a blog entry that occurs on the same day as an update to my link-dump.
Update update» I don't know why I didn't think of this earlier... I've added my Link Dump to my blogroll (as this graphic:
). That'll show you when I update it. I'll just use the arrow graphic if I think the update is particularly noteworthy.
Friday, February 13
Keeping Abreast of the News
The exposure of a breast on irrational TV, I mean national TV has been handled-fondled-carressed, uh... sorry... has been taken-seduced-ravaged, uh... sorry... let me start again. The exposure of a breast on national TV has been blown out of all proportion. Blindly rushed into production is the new B-Chip that will remove all objectional content from every form of media.
Here is the B-Chip press release:
- We are happy to announce the formation of a new membership driven organization dedicated to the elimination of all foul references from public media. This organization will enforce the intergration of microprocessor technology into any medium that transports information. As a result, anything we assess to be offensive or that may be potentially offensive to any individual, group, organization, coalition, or interest group will be automatically removed from the data stream.
Wednesday, February 11
Porn Entitlement
I was looking over at my DVD collection and noticed a few of the DVDs had porn titles ('Blow', and 'The Black Hole'). I went through the rest of them and it didn't take much to turn a lot of the others into porn titles. It did take a little longer when I decided not to go for really crude and stick with fairly innocuous:
- Alien Re-erection
Star Whores - The Phantom Manage
seX-Men
The Andromeda Stain
Lust in Space
Logan's Gun
DoMatrix
I Hard
Das Bootie
Man Hunt Her
Orafice Space
There's Something About Hairy
Glad He Ate Her (that one's an old joke)
Chaps In Ron
Crouching Thai Girl, Hidden Drag Queen
Black Hung Down
Bush Hour
G*A*S*H
In Some Leaha
Acapulco Lips Now
A Nights Tail
Sindiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Dork
Black Had Her
South Pork
I remember this from a naughty french post card:
Man: Do you like pornography?
Woman: No, you naughty boy. I don't even own a pornograph!
Tuesday, February 10
Forward Thinking
Buzz has deemed it "Blog it Forward" day again. This is a day when we select one entry from our blogroll and encourage you to take a look. Fair enough.
My selection this time around is...
Stupid Evil Bastard
It's a well designed blog that tends to get its material from the news. Frequently humourous, usually intelligent, and always worth the daily read. Take a moment to stop by. You'll probably find you want to add it to your bookmarks, if not your blogroll.
Update: I just added another site to my Blogroll. I bring 'The G-Spot' to your attention (so to speak). It's another Canadian site. It's mostly a link blog, but because the author takes the time to surround her picks with a brief discussion it doesn't come across dry like many such sites do. She favours the funny, silly, or strange. Each entry is followed by a "Question of the Day" as well, which encourages audience participation.
Monday, February 9
I Wish You Hadn't Said That
Sometimes you hear things that you just didn't want to hear. Perhaps it's something that would be completely innocuous under different circumstances. Perhaps it's something that you never want to hear under any circumstances. "Examples!", you say, "I require examples!". 'Kay.
"Do you, George, take this woman..."
"Hey, everyone! That's not a woman! That's Harold!"
"One more push... there you go!"
"Congratulations on your new baby bo.... uh....gir... well, baby.... ooo. Hmm. Baby human... probably."
"The kidney operation was a complete success!"
"Nurse, have you seen my watch anywhere?"
"We're now cruising at 35,000 feet. If you'd like to look out of the right window..."
"Holy shit! Sorry folks! No looking out the right window! Right window strictly forbidden! Look out the LEFT window and, uh, think happy thoughts!"
"Listen lady, I know my way around New York. The trip to the airport always takes this long."
"That? That's the Golden Gate Bridge. They, uh... they moved it last week."
"Shorry to call so late, Dad, but I'm kinna drunk. Can you pick me up?"
"Mom'sh gonna be so pleashed. I got that naked picshure of her tattooed on my face!"
"Hello, sir. I'm Officer Johnson. I just pulled you over to tell you your left tail light is out."
"Hmm... I wonder why my dog is sniffing and scratching at your trunk and barking like that..."
"Welcome to the Canadian military. Despite the budget cuts, you are now a member of a proud and well-equipped fighting force!"
"New rule. During battle, if you need to borrow the rifle; stand up, wave your arms in the air, and yell, 'Over here! Over here!'."
Sunday, February 8
Week 4: Oops...
Blogger Idol is simple. Each week, a theme is given. Those interested then create a blog entry with that theme. No holds barred. Week 1: The 80's
Week 2: Freedom
Week 3: A Day in the Life of...
Week 4: Oops
Week 5: Picture This
Oops
...and a proud moment for any new family as I circumcise John Harold Smith... oops!
How are you feeling, Fred? We've exposed the surface of your brain now, and we'll be stimulating it with electrodes. Tell me if you... oops!
I hope you enjoy your new tattoo, I'm sure your girlfriend Jnnifer will be... oops!
Well, I'm pleased to see the amputation of your right leg went so well. Wait... right leg? Oops.
Wow. Look at that girl over there. She's absolutely hideous! She's your girlfriend? Oops.
Good evening. I'm Geraldo Rivera. In my hands I hold the only untorn Woodstock ticket in the world. It's priceless... oops!
...and once you have exposed the fuse leading the nuclear warhead, cut the blue and red wires. <snip> <snip> But first be sure to... oops.
Oh yeah, Baby! Who's your daddy? I knew these generic condoms would be... oops.
We at NASA are very proud of our new probe and are confident that it's journey... what do you mean it was supposed to be in metric? Oops.
We at NASA are very proud of our new $250-million dollar weather satellite. We just have to move it carefully out of the lab to... oops!
Saturday, February 7
Digital Vixen Disk
Today is another list day. I sat here for a while trying to come up with something amusing, but inspiration fails me. Instead... hot women from my DVD collection, in the order that they appear on my shelf.- Liv Tyler - Lord of the Rings: No particular scene. She's hot in all of them. Apparently she's as thick as two short planks, though. I hear she kept bursting into tears when the orcs were chasing her. They had to repeatedly convince her they weren't real.
- Sigourney Weaver - Alien: The underwear scene at the end when she's getting into her space suit.
- Winona Ryder - Alien Resurrection: I like the scene where she plugs into the computer. Yeah-yeah, I know, but I don't care. I think she's cute, and it's my list. So there. (Jeez, even the spell checker wanted to replace 'Winona' with 'Inane'. My list dammit! She stays.)
- Milla Jovovich - The Fifth Element: Her introductory
titsscene is pretty nice, so is her main fight scene. Bonus marks for the red hair. This is one of my favourite movies, too. - Sean Young - Blade Runner: The scene where Deckard first convinces her that she's a replicant and she's on the verge of tears. A nod to Daryl Hannah in the scene where she airbrushes on her makeup.
- Jenny Agutter - Logan's Run: Her introductory scene is very good, as is the
titsscene just before they meet "Box". Another of my favourite movies. A young Farrah Fawcett is in this one as well, but I never was impressed with the "dumb blonde" look. - Halle Berry - Die Another Day: Could it be, oh, I don't know... let me think... the bikini scene?! Duh.
- Bridget Fonda - Point of No Return: My favourite scene is actually at the very end. The camera zooms in on a really nice black-and-white photograph of her. I like the first-dinner-out and assassination-at-Mardi-Gras scenes as well. Red hair bonus points on this one as well.
- Karen Allen - Raiders of the Lost Ark: More of a cutie than a hottie. I liked both of her drinking scenes.
- Jodie Foster - Silence of the Lambs: Well, ok, I can't think of scene in that movie where she comes across sexy. I had a crush on her way back when I was a young kid and first saw her in The Little Girl Who Lives Down the Lane, and have liked her ever since. My list, remember, so she gets to be on it.
Bonus Joke (It's old. I hope you're easily remused):
An American Airlines flight rolls to a stop after a particularly harrowing landing. The pilot turns to the co-pilot and says, "Wow. That was the shortest damn runway I've ever seen!". The co-pilot nods and says, "Yeah... but look how fucking wide it is!"
Ok. One more from the radio:
Q: There are three girls from the 3rd grade: A blonde, a brunette, and a red-head. Who has the biggest tits?
A: The blonde... she's 18.
Friday, February 6
What a Tool!
I used up my creativity making graphics today, so I decided to just post a list of the tools I use on this site and to keep my PC running smoothly.
Spam Gourmet - If you haven't checked out this free spam prevention tool, you really owe it to yourself to do so. I use it extensively. Basically, it lets you create temporary self-destructing email addresses on-the-fly. Every web form you come across can get it's own email address without having to revisit the Spam Gourmet web site. Not only do you not get the spam, you get to find out who gave away your information. It's much easier to use than it is to describe, too. You'll never avoid giving out your email address again.
Paint Shop Pro - This is the graphics program I use to create all the images and icons on this site. Except for 4 or 5 of the badges in the left margin, I created all the graphics myself. Of course, many of the images themselves are grabbed from Google, but they're all very heavily modified. PSP8 isn't free. It's actually pretty expensive. There are probably better tools out there, but it's very powerful, and I know how to use it in my sleep.
ZoneAlarm Pro - You already use this. Don't you? If you don't, you definitely need to. It's the best personal firewall there is. I use the pro version, but the free version is also excellent. I wouldn't go near the internet without it.
Truelaunch Bar - This is a Windows start menu replacement system on drugs. It's fantastic. The Windows task bar actually becomes, stay with me on this one, useful! It has a steep, but brief learning curve. It's worth the 20 minutes it'll take you to figure it out. Not free, either. Definitely worth registration, though. The support is the best I've ever seen for any product.
AVG Virus Scanner - Here's another free one. Very good program. It's a virus scanner. You know what those are.
Spybot Search and Destroy - The best spyware removal tool I've found. I like it much better than AdAware. The author does ask for donations, but he's very subtle about it. In one shot it took my sister's computer from completely useless because of overwhelming pop-ups, to back to the way it was before the plague on humanity scum bastard spammer slime got their worthless genetically inferior hands on it. One donation fired off to the author...
Wednesday, February 4
News Clip
I got my hair cut today. That's not too exciting, but while I was sitting there watching the barber snip away, I got to thinking. That can't be good. When I get to thinking the end result is usually a very strange blog entry...- Each hair follicle extrudes about ½ an inch of hair (a protein called keratin) per month.
- An adult has about 100,000 hair follicles on their head.
- Let's round that down to 4000 linear feet of hair per month.
- The Earth's population is over 6.4 billion.
- We'll knock off about 1.5 billion people to account for those not producing hair, and we get 5 billion.
- Another billion off for other variations in the number of follicles, and rate of hair growth. Call it 4 billion.
To the Sun and back more than 32 times!
Put another way, the hair would reach from the Sun to Neptune.
Every month!
That's the sort of stuff I think about all the time. Pitty me.
Tuesday, February 3
Guest Host: Charlie
Our guest host today is Charlie. Charlie is the prolific author of a blog that is invariably entertaining:
When Charlie steps away from the keyboard, he steps up to a microphone as a stand-up comedian. You'll want to make his blog a daily stop. I guarantee you'll find yourself laughing out loud.
Charlie submitted a topic suggestion in response to this post on my blog. I received many entries and they were all very imaginative. Charlie won because his stood out and was particularly topical. So, without further ado, I hand over the keys to Charlie!
'Damn! That's Six More Weeks of Stupid Decisions!'
Well, folks, another Groundhog's Day has just come and gone. From what I hear, that phat-assed Phil saw his shadow, and so we're to be deluged with another month and a half of crappy weather.(And you know, whose brilliant idea was it to rely on a fricking rodent to forecast the weather, anyway? For the life of me, I can't see the connection. What's next? Tying tornado watches to feeling the bumps on a rabbit's head? (That's bunny phrenology, folks. Keep up with me here.) Predicting lottery numbers with an opossum on a Ouija board? Charting the Dow Jones average based on the distribution of rat poop in the back room of your local Denny's? Where does the madness end, people?)
Anyway, ridiculous traditions aside, this time of year always reminds me of the one time that I visited the sleepy little burg of Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania. And trust me, once was enough. I was lucky to get out of there with my wits, my wallet, and a still-functioning liver. I'm sure as hell not going back anytime soon. But I will tell you about my little adventure. Pull up a chair.
| [-] «Expand the rest! Get comfy; here we go... |
It was the fall of my first year of graduate school at the University of Pittsburgh. (And yes, it turned out to be my only year at that graduate school, ya smartass. Hush up, now -- I'm tellin' a story.)
Anyway, I didn't know very many people yet, but I did know Joe. Everybody knew Joe -- he'd gone to undergrad at Pitt, went out a lot, very friendly, Italian, good-looking (or so the coed cootchie girls told me)... a real 'life of the party' type, Joe was.
And Joe, bless his little tortellini-shaped heart, was from Punxsutawney. And on one fateful day that first autumn, as we sat in a bar, drinking beer and scanning for women he could hit on, Joe told me about this little get-together he was having back home. A social. A gathering. A soiree, if you will.
In other words, a raging, out of control, 'holy shit, the parents are out of town; let's trash their house' kegger. A multi-kegger, even, with hordes of sweaty young drunkards careening and stumbling and falling in the rose bushes. It was gonna be a real bash, and did I want to go home to 'Punxsey' with him that weekend to attend?
Well. Here's where I made my first mistake. I knew nothing of Punxsutawney. I had no idea who'd be at the party, and once I knew who they were, I still wouldn't know any of them. Hell, I barely knew Joe, though I was pretty sure he wouldn't strip me naked and leave me by the side of the road out in Bumblefuckville, either. (One or the other, perhaps -- the stripping, or the leaving -- but not both. He's cool like that.)
And besides, I had plenty of work to get done, and really couldn't afford to go gallivanting off to some other town for the whole damned weekend. Not if I wanted to stay in school, anyway. (And yes, I think you can probably see where this is going by now. Bright one, you are.)
On the other hand, I thought to myself, I'm a sweaty young drunkard. I careen. I stumble. And if I'm gonna fall down anyway, it's nice to know that Joe has rose bushes to break my fall. And I'm not gettin' any drunker just sitting here thinking about it, so what the hell -- I'm goin' to Punxsey! How far away could it possibly be, anyway?
Like I said... mistake number one.
So, Friday afternoon rolled around. I packed a change of clothes and my toothbrush, and off we went in Joe's little Honda. And went. And went. And went, and...
Me: 'Joe, just how the frigging far is Punxsutawney, anyway?'
Joe: 'Oh. Yeah, you're right. We should grab some food. It'll be a while longer.'
*sigh*
So, what I thought would be a half-hour trip or so turned into a three hour trek, thanks to a late start, Pittsburgh rush hour traffic, and a short detour for a couple of Whoppers. But finally, mercifully, we arrived in Punxsey.
Now, as I recall, the party was slated for Saturday evening. I don't remember much about that first Friday night, and I don't think anything terribly interesting (read: horrible, asinine decisions on my part) happened, so let's fast-forward to Saturday afternoon.
Joe and I head to the grocery store for supplies. By this point, there were already a couple of people at his house, and they handled picking up the beer and booze and various accessories. (They let us down on the strippers. I would have sworn we told them to get strippers. Meh.)
That left it to the two of us to pick up sodas and snackies and chips. (Oh, my!) And that's just what we were doing, when I made horrific mistake number two:
Me: 'Hey, Joe -- come check this out. Whaddaya think about one of these?'
Joe: 'A watermelon? For what?'
Me: 'Well, it's still summer, almost. We could eat it. Or back at school, we would soak 'em in alcohol sometimes.'
Joe: 'That might be fun. You know how to do that?'
Me: 'Um... sure. I guess. How hard could it be, right?'
Joe: 'Yeah, okay, I guess. Pick it up.'
And thus we had a watermelon. We didn't need a watermelon. Nobody asked for a damned watermelon. Soon, several of us would rue the day that we'd ever heard of watermelon. But me and my big watermouth got us a watermelon, and that was that.
Fast-forward again to the party. It was maybe six, seven o'clock at night. People had been trickling in for a couple of hours, hitting the keg(s), playing some tunes, hanging out on the back lawn. So far, so tame.
I'd met a couple of folks, and was having a pretty good time. Several people had seen and spoken of the watermelon, but it was still sitting there, untouched, on the kitchen counter. Eventually, as the booze flowed more freely, interest in the melon increased. Joe announced that I knew what the hell to do with the thing, and that I should get cracking with it.
Oh. Um. Okay. How hard can it be, right? Stupid decision number three.
Me: 'Well... uh, we just always cut a hole in the top and poured some stuff in there, really. Here, I'll just cut a little triangle out with this knife. Okay, there. Now just... I dunno. Let's put something in there.'
UFO (Unintelligible Fucked-up Observer): 'Here... throws thihsss in it, duuude.'
At which point, he started pouring and sloshing and spilling a bottleful of clear liquid in the general direction of the watermelon. I took it from him to steady it, and kept pouring into the hole I'd made.
Me: 'What is this, anyway, man?'
UFO: 'Hunh? Oh. Oh... ish okay. Itsh just grain.'
Me: 'Grain? Like 190 proof grain?'
UFO: 'Yeeeah, dudesh. Ish guuuud shtuff.'
I looked down to see the last of the contents of the bottle *glug glug glug* into the watermelon. Oh, fuck. This was not going to be pretty.
A few of us spent the next half-hour or so sloshing the melon around (sounds sexual, but isn't -- so sorry!), eyeing it warily, and wondering who'd be the first fool brave or stupid enough to try it out. (Again, I really hate to telegraph what's about to happen, but really, that's what we talked about. I can't rewrite history here, people.)
So, of course, the 'expert' who bought the damned thing, and doctored it, and babysat it, was in line to have the honor of the first taste. Really, what else could I do? This barely counts as a stupid decision -- if I hadn't taken a bite, they'd have probably shoved the whole thing down my pants and given me a grainy melon wedgie. And if there's one thing you do not want to endure in this life, folks, it's a grainy melon wedgie.
(Hell, if nothing else, think of the seeds. Those little bastards wriggle their way all up in your bidness. You'll be finding those things in your undies for weeks!)
So, dutifully -- if fearfully -- I took a bite. And tasted nothing but watermelon. It was good. Too good, in fact. We tore through that thing like tornadoes through a trailer park -- the whole thing was gone in ten minutes or so, with just a soggy green hull to prove that there was ever a watermelon there in the first place. Like tipsy Tasmanian Devils, we were.
The next couple of hours are a blur, I'm afraid. I remember having a very good time, and laughing a lot about things that probably weren't all that funny, and leaning on an awful lot of things that probably weren't meant to be leaned on quite so heavily. Eventually, I ended up in a circle of four or five people (possibly less; I really wasn't focusing well at that point), talking about nothing in particular. And finding it hilarious, of course. At some point, I had occasion to make another of my asinine, life-threatening decisions:
Random Guy: 'Hey, (some chick) and (another chick) and (some dude) and I are gonna go over to the Country Club. (Some other chick) works there, and we can hang around and maybe get some more booze. Who's in?'
Well, let's just step back and look at this statement for a minute. I mean, first of all, one thing just has to leap out and grab you by the throat, right? 'Punxsutawney has a country club?!? There's, like, three traffic lights in the whole fricking place. A country club? Dude!'
It took me a second to get over that, mainly because I was trying to avoid saying what I just wrote and offending all these people who presumably lived there. (There was still the watermelon shell to be used for a wedgie, remember. I wasn't out of the woods just yet.)
Once I recovered, though, I thought about the offer. First, I knew no one involved. Second, I wasn't looking for any 'sumthin-sumthin' -- I had a long-distance girlfriend. (And apparently was pretty serious about it, because I married her.) Third... 'Punxsey has a goddamned country club?!?'
(Sorry, sorry... that's just tough to get over. I'll be good now.)
So, third was -- how the hell am I gonna get back? I only know Joe, and he wasn't even around just then. He wouldn't even know I'd left. Hell, he might drive back without me in the morning, if I didn't show up.
Fourth, there was still plenty of booze at the house, and I didn't have room for more, anyway. Fifth, it was just a damned stupid idea -- even these other people who knew the guy were looking at him funny, so obviously nobody was gonna --
Disembodied Voice: 'I'll go.'
'What the? Who the hell was that dumbass who just said... wait a minute. Did I just feel my mouth move a second ago? Holy shit, I didn't say that, did I? Surely to heaven, I couldn't... I wouldn't have --'
MY Disembodied Voice: 'Let's go. Sounds like fun!'
'Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. That damned drunken watermelon's taken over, and is working my mouth. At least it hasn't figured out how to work my legs. So I can just sit -- hey! Whoa! Who the hell told you to start walking, dammit? I demand that you legs turn right around and march to the kitchen. March! March, dammit!
Arms, don't you get involved, dammit! This is not your fight. Don't you reach for that doorknob. Shit! All systems are against me! Eject! Eject!'
And so, I piled in a car with five other people, in god only knows what state of dysfunction, and rode on over to the gleaming, palatial Punxsutawney Country Club, a facility built for kings and queens and burly Norse gods.
Okay, so really, it looked like a funeral home with a better paint job and a bigger parking lot. We went into the 'ballroom' and grabbed some beers. Somewhere around that time, the clock must've struck midnight or something, and the spell wore off, because I finally came to my senses and realized where the hell I was, how freaking ridiculous a situation I'd gotten myself in, and how violently I was going to hurl if I drank any more alcohol. Sweet, sweet, sanity -- where the hell have you been all my life?
So, the story ends with a bit of an anticlimax, I'm afraid. I hung around for an hour or two, chatting with the folks who brought me, nursing my beer, and generally wondering whether I'd see my dingy studio apartment again. But after a while, we all got tired, and they dropped me back at Joe's sometime in the wee hours of the morning. I think the party was still going on in some form or another, but I found my way face-first onto a bed upstairs, and slept through whatever debauchery was still happening below. In the morning -- the late, late morning -- the next day, we got up, shook off the cobwebs, and made our way home.
So, that's my story of personal assheadedness in Punxsutawney, PA. Most of you hit February second, and think of the groundhog, or the weather, or maybe even that Bill Murray movie. Me, I think of hangovers, and country clubs, and watermelon -- oh, that evil, evil watermelon! I'll leave it to you to decide which is more interesting, but I'll tell you -- I was much happier when I could hear about that damned furbag's shadow without wanting to spew liquored-up fruit juice.
In the end, this is yet another holiday horribly tainted by alcohol-related shenanigans. I think I'm down to just a couple of holidays that haven't been completely ruined yet. And I'm working on those. You hear me, Flag Day and Arbor Day? You'd better watch your backs, baby! You're next!
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Sunday, February 1
Week 3: A Day in the Life of...
Update» It's voting time. Here are a few of the entries that I enjoyed.
The Journey by Deneice
Song Lyrics by Ryan
Photo Essay by Manda
Week 1: The 80's
Week 2: Freedom
Week 3: A Day in the Life of...
Week 4: Oops
Week 5: Picture This
If you haven't read last weeks' entry, please read it first.
This week the theme is:
A Day in the Life of...
Jeff awoke with a start. He'd had that nightmare again, he was sure of it. It always seemed so vivid. Try as he might, though, he couldn't remember the details... just an awful feeling of being trapped. He wiped sweat from his brow. He wasn't going to let the nightmare ruin his day.
The sun was streaming in through his window. He couldn't have hoped for better. He showered and dressed quickly. He was still pulling on his t-shirt as he pounded down the stairs and ran into the living room.
"Oh, it's you," said his dad as he looked up from the morning paper, "I thought someone was rolling an elephant down the stairs."
"Funny dad, for an old guy." said Jeff. "I'm ready to go. Can we go now?"
"Sure, Jeff. We figured you'd want to head right out the door. Mom's got some breakfast snacks packed, let me just get the keys and we'll go."
The drive to Disneyland was only about an hour and a half, but it seemed to take forever. That was followed by the ticket line-up, and of course the line-ups for every ride. All those delays were forgotten. Only the fun remained. The thrill of Space Mountain, and The Pirates of the Caribbean. Wait until his friends heard all the stories. Between him and his dad, they were even able to convince mom to go on Splash Mountain, and she never went on anything remotely scary.
They had a fantastic time. It was sad to leave, but they were all in such a great mood. It had been such a wonderful trip. They all chatted excitedly about the day for most of the ride home. As they pulled into the driveway, though, the chatter had died down and the excitement of the day was giving way to fatigue. Jeff was barely able to keep his eyes open has he headed up to bed.
He changed into his pajamas and slipped beneath the sheets. He was asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.
Frenklin awoke with a start. He'd had that dream again, he was sure of it. It always seemed so vivid. Try as he might, though, he couldn't remember the details... just a wonderful feeling of exhilaration. He wiped the sleep from his eyes. He wasn't going to let the day ruin his dream.
He got out of his cot and went to the sink. It was wake time. He was a good citizen. He wouldn't consider doing anything else.
Back to Shouting into the Void main page: http://fracture98.blogspot.com/
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