My wife made a good point tonight - "How did a TV show like Mr. Ed ever make it? A talking horse? Please."
Certainly worthy of a blog post to explore that question. Here you have a television show that lasted five years. Let me repeat that: FIVE YEARS. The entire premise revolved around a talking horse. Come on, people. How do you squeeze out 5 years of crappy episodes about a talking horse?
Kathryn just asked me - "Didn't the horse give advice?" I don't remember. But I really wanted it to. Like - so-and-so was in a jam, and Mr. Ed was able to talk them out of it. Kathryn is now fairly convinced that this was the point of the show. People would get in jams, consult the horse, and crisis would be averted. The horse was the wise sage. The guru. Mr. Ed.
How is this possible in a post-Enlightenment, educated, Western civilization? Entertainment derived from watching a horse talk? Come on.
It did say "Wilbur" a lot. And the voice was all wobbly. W-w-w-w-i-i-i-l-l-l-b-b-b-urrrrr!! Somehow the horse, though able to speak English, was not able to overcome its "horsey" nature, and thus its "horsey" accent. Ahhh, the sage does have his limitations.
I did just find out via Wikipedia, that Mr. Ed was euthanized due to increasing poor health.
Mr. Ed became Elmer's.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Monday, January 12, 2009
Maxims, Axioms, and Chicken Salad
I know I have written about onions in the past. On several occasions, actually. But I have no problem writing about them again. Frankly, I cannot get over these things. Every time I find myself chopping them (and subsequently barreled over holding my eyes), I wonder why on earth these things are on earth. Maybe my eyes aren't quite "broken in" yet, but every time I split their bodies in half, peal that stupid brown paper off of them, and begin "finely chopping" them, I soon find myself in pain. And I begin cursing them in my heart. And I start thinking things like, "Onions are stupid. Why do we even eat these things. I hate them." And the curse-fest continues.
But tonight something new happened. Aside from my internal torrential hate affair, I thought about our forefathers and how a primitive generation would first experience the pungent face-punching fumes of opened onions. You have to wonder what this would be like. You're walking along the field/garden/vesta and you come upon an onion. So you pull it from the ground (they do come from the ground, right?) and take it back home to enjoy it. Maybe you think to peal the stupid brown paper. Maybe you don't. Either way, you somehow get into this newly discovered vegetable only to newly discover its ability to bring you to your knees. So you huck it from your presence like a baseball (or hot potato), cursing it as a "vile weed." Who would want to return and try it again - knowing it will burn out your retinas with its poisonous fumes? Why did our forefathers give it another shot? Maybe they thought, "Next time, it won't set my eyeballs on fire."
Or maybe they thought, "I really like that stupid brown paper that covers it."
Or perhaps they thought, "If we keep eating them, our children's children's children will eat them, thinking it is normal to sit over a kitchen counter weeping for 15 minutes."
But most likely they thought, "Why does 'Llama' have two L's in it? A silent "L"? Come on."
But tonight something new happened. Aside from my internal torrential hate affair, I thought about our forefathers and how a primitive generation would first experience the pungent face-punching fumes of opened onions. You have to wonder what this would be like. You're walking along the field/garden/vesta and you come upon an onion. So you pull it from the ground (they do come from the ground, right?) and take it back home to enjoy it. Maybe you think to peal the stupid brown paper. Maybe you don't. Either way, you somehow get into this newly discovered vegetable only to newly discover its ability to bring you to your knees. So you huck it from your presence like a baseball (or hot potato), cursing it as a "vile weed." Who would want to return and try it again - knowing it will burn out your retinas with its poisonous fumes? Why did our forefathers give it another shot? Maybe they thought, "Next time, it won't set my eyeballs on fire."
Or maybe they thought, "I really like that stupid brown paper that covers it."
Or perhaps they thought, "If we keep eating them, our children's children's children will eat them, thinking it is normal to sit over a kitchen counter weeping for 15 minutes."
But most likely they thought, "Why does 'Llama' have two L's in it? A silent "L"? Come on."
Thursday, January 01, 2009
The Awkward Parts About Being Human
The following is a list of instances that are most awkward in the human experience:
1. Realizing that there is an insufficient amount of toilet paper on the roll after completing your "business." So, you stretch it out to make every bit count. And it gets down to the wire of you having to pull those last little scraps of paper that are glued down to the little cardboard roll.
2. Having to refer to another human as "you" because you have forgotten their name and they have remembered yours.
3. Junior High.
4. Not being able to get that last ice cube at the bottom of your glass. The drink is finished, the ice is consumed, and that last one seems to be stuck on the bottom rim. What is it hanging onto? No one knows. But it is. So you tap and you shake and you pound. And you look like a fool. All for the reward of one little cube of ice.
5. Purchasing feminine products.
6. Using the restroom at a very large house party. Number two. And that is not the awkward part. It is when you exit the bathroom and run into someone that you know right there out in front of the restroom. And you proceed to have a conversation 3 feet away from the very spot you just completed your "business." You are both thinking about this throughout the duration of your conversation but neither alludes to it. You can't. So you grit your teeth, smile, ask them about what "they've been up to lately" and pray your guts out that someone rescues you.
7. Asking someone about how their grandparents are - only to find out that their grandparents have recently passed away. This happened to me the other day. It was not a fun experience.
8. Getting mad at a car on the road for whatever reason, letting them aware of your frustration with them, and then pulling into the same parking lot with them to discover that you are both going to the same place.
9. Going to a tanning bed place.
10. Walking out of the grocery store to your car. Only there is a woman who has exited the grocery store before you who is walking to her car as well. And it so happens that your car is just beyond where she parked. So you are essentially following her to her car. And she continues to turn her head to look at you - suspiciously - as if she is worried that you are in fact following her. And you are, sort of. You can sense the panic she is feeling and you hate it. But you have to get to your car and don't see the point of taking a long detour around several other parked cars to get to yours. So you keep following her. And she keeps looking back. And she starts picking up her pace. And you cringe - thinking that you probably need to shave or at least wear something that doesn't give off the impression that you could potentially hurt people in grocery store parking lots.
1. Realizing that there is an insufficient amount of toilet paper on the roll after completing your "business." So, you stretch it out to make every bit count. And it gets down to the wire of you having to pull those last little scraps of paper that are glued down to the little cardboard roll.
2. Having to refer to another human as "you" because you have forgotten their name and they have remembered yours.
3. Junior High.
4. Not being able to get that last ice cube at the bottom of your glass. The drink is finished, the ice is consumed, and that last one seems to be stuck on the bottom rim. What is it hanging onto? No one knows. But it is. So you tap and you shake and you pound. And you look like a fool. All for the reward of one little cube of ice.
5. Purchasing feminine products.
6. Using the restroom at a very large house party. Number two. And that is not the awkward part. It is when you exit the bathroom and run into someone that you know right there out in front of the restroom. And you proceed to have a conversation 3 feet away from the very spot you just completed your "business." You are both thinking about this throughout the duration of your conversation but neither alludes to it. You can't. So you grit your teeth, smile, ask them about what "they've been up to lately" and pray your guts out that someone rescues you.
7. Asking someone about how their grandparents are - only to find out that their grandparents have recently passed away. This happened to me the other day. It was not a fun experience.
8. Getting mad at a car on the road for whatever reason, letting them aware of your frustration with them, and then pulling into the same parking lot with them to discover that you are both going to the same place.
9. Going to a tanning bed place.
10. Walking out of the grocery store to your car. Only there is a woman who has exited the grocery store before you who is walking to her car as well. And it so happens that your car is just beyond where she parked. So you are essentially following her to her car. And she continues to turn her head to look at you - suspiciously - as if she is worried that you are in fact following her. And you are, sort of. You can sense the panic she is feeling and you hate it. But you have to get to your car and don't see the point of taking a long detour around several other parked cars to get to yours. So you keep following her. And she keeps looking back. And she starts picking up her pace. And you cringe - thinking that you probably need to shave or at least wear something that doesn't give off the impression that you could potentially hurt people in grocery store parking lots.
This Page Intentionally Left Blank
I was combing through an official document the other day (an activity that I love doing. Seriously, I clear out my schedule so that I can comb through official documents. My wife has to literally pull me away from these "official" activities sometimes.) And upon my combing through said official document, I reached a page that caught my attention. Right there in the middle of a somewhat empty page was one sentence typed:
This page intentionally left blank.
Hmmm. Now, let's think about this. Here is a sentence printed on a page declaring that this page is left blank. (Intentionally, by the way.) But it isn't blank....is it? The very fact that there is a sentence printed in the middle of the page contradicts the sentence's claim, right? It's like writing, "This is not a complete sentence." It's like saying, "Never say never." It is self-referentially contradictory. The page isn't blank at all. Don't tell me that it is.
Why waste a page in the first place if you were going to print on it any way...albeit with a disclaimer that you weren't going to print on it? Just go ahead and print whatever you were going to print on the next page. Why waste the paper (and the ink) informing us that you are wasting paper (and ink)?!? What's the point in skipping a page for no good reason?
[This paragraph intentionally left blank.]
And why the added adverb: "intentionally"? Oh, that is helpful. You did this on purpose. That is clarifying. I would have been confused if you simply wrote "This page left blank." I would have been like - "WHAT?!? How did this happen?!? How did this page get left blank and yet simultaneously be informing me that it isn't blank?!? Is the universe folding in on itself?!??!" But with that one little word "intentionally" now I know - oh, thank goodness. This insanity does have a purpose to it.
All in all, this is stupid. Just use the page that you were going to "intentionally" leave blank. Don't skip over it.
Nothing like bringing in the new year with criticism and cynicism. (Put together: Crytnicism)
This page intentionally left blank.
Hmmm. Now, let's think about this. Here is a sentence printed on a page declaring that this page is left blank. (Intentionally, by the way.) But it isn't blank....is it? The very fact that there is a sentence printed in the middle of the page contradicts the sentence's claim, right? It's like writing, "This is not a complete sentence." It's like saying, "Never say never." It is self-referentially contradictory. The page isn't blank at all. Don't tell me that it is.
Why waste a page in the first place if you were going to print on it any way...albeit with a disclaimer that you weren't going to print on it? Just go ahead and print whatever you were going to print on the next page. Why waste the paper (and the ink) informing us that you are wasting paper (and ink)?!? What's the point in skipping a page for no good reason?
[This paragraph intentionally left blank.]
And why the added adverb: "intentionally"? Oh, that is helpful. You did this on purpose. That is clarifying. I would have been confused if you simply wrote "This page left blank." I would have been like - "WHAT?!? How did this happen?!? How did this page get left blank and yet simultaneously be informing me that it isn't blank?!? Is the universe folding in on itself?!??!" But with that one little word "intentionally" now I know - oh, thank goodness. This insanity does have a purpose to it.
All in all, this is stupid. Just use the page that you were going to "intentionally" leave blank. Don't skip over it.
Nothing like bringing in the new year with criticism and cynicism. (Put together: Crytnicism)
Monday, December 29, 2008
The Star "Spangled?" Banner
I was thinking about the word "spangled" the other day. What does "spangled" mean? I did not know. I had to look it up. It turns out that "spangle" can take various forms:
Verb. To adorn or to cause to sparkle. "Dude, check out how the light has spangled the skyline."
Noun. Something that sparkles. "Dude, check out those spangles of sunlight."
Outside of the context of the star "spangled" banner, does anyone say this word? Not that I am aware. I can't remember the last time "spangle" showed up in a conversation. I thought about breaking it out at the next party (get-together and/or social engagement), but I'm sure it would attract odd reactions:
"'Spangled?' Did you just say 'spangle'? What does that even mean?"
or
"'Spangle?' Isn't that the brownish, green mucus that comes out of your nose when you have a cold?"
or
"'Spangled?' Isn't that a verb that means 'to adorn or to cause to sparkle'?"
or
"'Spangle?' Is that similar to 'throat corn'?"
Gene: It's in the same family.
Oliver: Exactly.
Verb. To adorn or to cause to sparkle. "Dude, check out how the light has spangled the skyline."
Noun. Something that sparkles. "Dude, check out those spangles of sunlight."
Outside of the context of the star "spangled" banner, does anyone say this word? Not that I am aware. I can't remember the last time "spangle" showed up in a conversation. I thought about breaking it out at the next party (get-together and/or social engagement), but I'm sure it would attract odd reactions:
"'Spangled?' Did you just say 'spangle'? What does that even mean?"
or
"'Spangle?' Isn't that the brownish, green mucus that comes out of your nose when you have a cold?"
or
"'Spangled?' Isn't that a verb that means 'to adorn or to cause to sparkle'?"
or
"'Spangle?' Is that similar to 'throat corn'?"
Gene: It's in the same family.
Oliver: Exactly.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Oblong Blog
You know what really "chaps my hyde?" It's phrases like "chaps my hyde." These colloquialisms are a bit outdated and thus unnecessary in my opinion (opine). Can anyone even describe to me what "chapping" looks like? I know what "chaffing" is. Is that the same as "chapping"? I know when my lips are chapped. Maybe that is what it means.
Therefore, I think the expression should be altered a bit. It should be: You know what really "chaps my lips"? Now, that is an expression people can identify with. People will be like - Oooh, I know the feeling of a chapped lip. That is not pleasant. This guy is about to tell me something unpleasant. I can dig that. I can't want to hear what this guy is about to say about what is chapping his lips, metaphorically.
But you go to that same person and say: You know what really "chaps my hyde," they will be confused. That person will be like - Hmmm. I am a bit confused. He is about to tell me something about how something has chapped his hyde. I have experience of hyde chapping. I'm not even sure what chapping is in this context. I don't know how to prepare myself for what this guy is about to tell me. Is this good news? Is hyde chapping a good thing? Or is this a bad thing? Does he not want his hyde chapped?
You can see how confusing such a phrase is. I'm going to start a facebook group: People who want to change "chaps my hyde" to "chaps my lips." (Or should "lips" be singular: "chaps my lip." That has a bit more zip to it if you ask me.)
Will you join?
Therefore, I think the expression should be altered a bit. It should be: You know what really "chaps my lips"? Now, that is an expression people can identify with. People will be like - Oooh, I know the feeling of a chapped lip. That is not pleasant. This guy is about to tell me something unpleasant. I can dig that. I can't want to hear what this guy is about to say about what is chapping his lips, metaphorically.
But you go to that same person and say: You know what really "chaps my hyde," they will be confused. That person will be like - Hmmm. I am a bit confused. He is about to tell me something about how something has chapped his hyde. I have experience of hyde chapping. I'm not even sure what chapping is in this context. I don't know how to prepare myself for what this guy is about to tell me. Is this good news? Is hyde chapping a good thing? Or is this a bad thing? Does he not want his hyde chapped?
You can see how confusing such a phrase is. I'm going to start a facebook group: People who want to change "chaps my hyde" to "chaps my lips." (Or should "lips" be singular: "chaps my lip." That has a bit more zip to it if you ask me.)
Will you join?
Monday, December 15, 2008
An Inter-Planetary Copernican Revolution
Why does the stomach grumble (gurggle?) when it is hungry? No other body part that I can think of is audible when it is empty. It's not like the liver starts shrieking. It's not like the kidney hums. So why does the stomach grumble (grabble?)? Why this involuntary audio?
It's not like the bladder sizzles. And it's not like the gallbladder rumples. So why does the stomach grumble (gumple?)?
And why is there a bladder and a gallbladder? They couldn't name the gallbladder something original? They think that just by sticking the name "gall" in front of the pre-existing "bladder" that this was doing justice to the nomenclature of this organ. No sir. Not in my book. I think the gallbladder should have a completely unique identity apart from its connection to the bladder. And I think it should rumple when it is empty.
This goes back to my complaint about the naming of grapefruits. There is clearly already a grape...that is a fruit. So we couldn't come up with anything more original for grapefruits? There are really that many fruits out there that we totally exhausted every name available? We had to start dipping back and recycling old fruit names? No sir. Not in my book.
And it's not like the heart hisses. And it's not like the gallbladder waffles. So why does the stomach grumble (garble?)?
It's not like the bladder sizzles. And it's not like the gallbladder rumples. So why does the stomach grumble (gumple?)?
And why is there a bladder and a gallbladder? They couldn't name the gallbladder something original? They think that just by sticking the name "gall" in front of the pre-existing "bladder" that this was doing justice to the nomenclature of this organ. No sir. Not in my book. I think the gallbladder should have a completely unique identity apart from its connection to the bladder. And I think it should rumple when it is empty.
This goes back to my complaint about the naming of grapefruits. There is clearly already a grape...that is a fruit. So we couldn't come up with anything more original for grapefruits? There are really that many fruits out there that we totally exhausted every name available? We had to start dipping back and recycling old fruit names? No sir. Not in my book.
And it's not like the heart hisses. And it's not like the gallbladder waffles. So why does the stomach grumble (garble?)?
Thursday, December 11, 2008
The Awkwardness of "Awkward"
The other day I found myself trying to spell the word 'awkward.' And my first attempt spelt ("spelt"....now that is awkward too) it this way: awkard. My indication that something has gone horribly wrong was the red squiggly line that appeared underneath it - always an alerting red-flag that changes are needed. So I stepped back and looked at this word: awkard.
"Are there really 2 w's in this thing?" So I took another stab (grab). a-w-k-W-a-r-d. And there it was. Awkward. And the more I looked at this word, I realized that its form embodies its definition. Just look at it for a second. Awkward. It is weird looking. What other words do you find the back-to-back combination of "wkw"? The word itself looks like a bird trying to get off the ground, but can't, due to one defective wing.
You know what else is an awkward word? Spelt.
"Are there really 2 w's in this thing?" So I took another stab (grab). a-w-k-W-a-r-d. And there it was. Awkward. And the more I looked at this word, I realized that its form embodies its definition. Just look at it for a second. Awkward. It is weird looking. What other words do you find the back-to-back combination of "wkw"? The word itself looks like a bird trying to get off the ground, but can't, due to one defective wing.
You know what else is an awkward word? Spelt.
Saturday, December 06, 2008
Comb Over to My Place
At what point in the baldness process does one decide to start doing the comb over? Because this is not a neutral commitment. This requires at least two things from you: 1) to stop grooming your hair as you have been, 2) to start growing out one specific area of your hair longer than all the others so that it can start to function as the comb-over strip. This is a big decision. This requires much of you.
So, what does this conversation look like with the barber? Do you request this of them? "Yeah, give me a trim all over....except for this one little area right here. I'm growing that spot out."
Does the barber intuitively pick up on this strategy? He has to. You can't hide that. And furthermore, what does one do with this long strip of awkwardly grown hair before it is long enough to accomplish its task? Is it just sticking straight up - obviously longer than the rest of the hair? Does one try to prematurely press it over the bald area - only to have it stretch out and cover about an inch of fully bald area?
Ever seen one of these elongated strips of hair get snagged by the wind going the other direction? It's not pretty. It can easily lift off of the bald portion of the head, flip around, and slap the person on the cheek. It's that long. It's kind of creepy actually. It's like old-man-goth or something.
What do you call this long comb-over strip? Is there a term for this? The "built-in-toupee?" The "half-wig?" I'm not sure.
But I am sure of one thing. If my hairline continues to regress at the rate it is, these are going to be very relevant questions for me, I'm afraid.
So, what does this conversation look like with the barber? Do you request this of them? "Yeah, give me a trim all over....except for this one little area right here. I'm growing that spot out."
Does the barber intuitively pick up on this strategy? He has to. You can't hide that. And furthermore, what does one do with this long strip of awkwardly grown hair before it is long enough to accomplish its task? Is it just sticking straight up - obviously longer than the rest of the hair? Does one try to prematurely press it over the bald area - only to have it stretch out and cover about an inch of fully bald area?
Ever seen one of these elongated strips of hair get snagged by the wind going the other direction? It's not pretty. It can easily lift off of the bald portion of the head, flip around, and slap the person on the cheek. It's that long. It's kind of creepy actually. It's like old-man-goth or something.
What do you call this long comb-over strip? Is there a term for this? The "built-in-toupee?" The "half-wig?" I'm not sure.
But I am sure of one thing. If my hairline continues to regress at the rate it is, these are going to be very relevant questions for me, I'm afraid.
Tuesday, December 02, 2008
Joe. (6 Pack)
I got to thinking about "Joe" today. Not Joe the Plummer. Not Joe 6 Pack. Not even Joe Manwich. I was thinking about "Joe."
"Joe" is shorthand for something longer, namely "Joseph." But why is this? Is it because the first syllable of "Joseph" is literally "Joe"? Or is it because the first two letters of "Joseph" are J and O?
Now on the one hand, if it is simply because the first syllable sounds like "Joe" then this is a bit unfair for Jody and Job and Jomamma. Not cool, Joe. Why do you feel so entitled to that name over against everyone else with a first syllable that sounds like "Joe."
On the other hand, if it is "Joe" simply because the first two letters are J and O, then this is quite unfair for Jordan and Joshua and Jocular. Not cool again, Joe.
Either way you look at it - "Joe" is stepping beyond the bounds of what it should. It assumes too much. It discriminates against names like Job and Joshua. It belittles names like Jope and Joliphant. It is puffed up and proud, slinging its tater-tot-loaded weight around in the playground of nicknames, presuming to wear a crown that only belongs to nomenclatures of Joseph alone. Sola Josepha.
But no.
We say no, Joe. Got to get tough, yo Joe.
"Joe" is shorthand for something longer, namely "Joseph." But why is this? Is it because the first syllable of "Joseph" is literally "Joe"? Or is it because the first two letters of "Joseph" are J and O?
Now on the one hand, if it is simply because the first syllable sounds like "Joe" then this is a bit unfair for Jody and Job and Jomamma. Not cool, Joe. Why do you feel so entitled to that name over against everyone else with a first syllable that sounds like "Joe."
On the other hand, if it is "Joe" simply because the first two letters are J and O, then this is quite unfair for Jordan and Joshua and Jocular. Not cool again, Joe.
Either way you look at it - "Joe" is stepping beyond the bounds of what it should. It assumes too much. It discriminates against names like Job and Joshua. It belittles names like Jope and Joliphant. It is puffed up and proud, slinging its tater-tot-loaded weight around in the playground of nicknames, presuming to wear a crown that only belongs to nomenclatures of Joseph alone. Sola Josepha.
But no.
We say no, Joe. Got to get tough, yo Joe.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Hankering: A Conversation
Gene: So I was thumbing my thumb drive the other day, and I had this odd hankering for some Mr. Pibb.
Oliver: Did you just say "hankering"?
Gene: Yeah, hankering. What's wrong with that?
Oliver: No one says that anymore.
Gene: I just did.
Oliver: Yeah, I know you just did....but I mean....other people. No other person says "hankering." Honest to goodness.
Gene: "Honest to goodness"? Now, seriously. Noooooobody says that anymore.
Oliver: You're just saying that to get me back for what I said about "hankering."
Gene: No, seriously. No one says "honest to goodness." I would have brought it up had you not even mentioned the "hankering" thing. Honest to goodness.
Oliver: How can someone "hanker" for something? Show me one example of hankering. You can't. I defy you to show me hankering. Bee tea dub, pass the oregano please.
Gene: "Oregano?" No one says that anymore. Who honestly says that?
Oliver: Why does no one like our conversations? I find them stimulating.
Gene: Good question....for once.
Oliver: Exactly.
Oliver: Did you just say "hankering"?
Gene: Yeah, hankering. What's wrong with that?
Oliver: No one says that anymore.
Gene: I just did.
Oliver: Yeah, I know you just did....but I mean....other people. No other person says "hankering." Honest to goodness.
Gene: "Honest to goodness"? Now, seriously. Noooooobody says that anymore.
Oliver: You're just saying that to get me back for what I said about "hankering."
Gene: No, seriously. No one says "honest to goodness." I would have brought it up had you not even mentioned the "hankering" thing. Honest to goodness.
Oliver: How can someone "hanker" for something? Show me one example of hankering. You can't. I defy you to show me hankering. Bee tea dub, pass the oregano please.
Gene: "Oregano?" No one says that anymore. Who honestly says that?
Oliver: Why does no one like our conversations? I find them stimulating.
Gene: Good question....for once.
Oliver: Exactly.
Sunday, November 09, 2008
Kathryn's Blogservations
A few nights ago Kathryn and I were watching a movie at home. We popped the DVD (digital video disc) in our DVD player and in no time, a familiar message appeared:
"This screen has been modified from its original version. The following has been formatted to fit this screen."
And Kathryn made a blog-worthy observation: Why are they informing us about this bit o' editing. Certainly, the editors have made plenty of editing decisions that they didn't feel the need to inform us about - so why this one. "This shot was originally 4 seconds long, but it has been adjusted to be 3.25 seconds." If we don't need every editorial detail, why do we need that one? Good call.
----
Kathryn: Isn't our body temperature 98.6 degrees?
Matt: Yeah.
Kathryn: So, how come when it is 98 degrees outside, we feel so hot? Shouldn't it neutralize itself out into equilibrium or something? Shouldn't that feel...you know, normal?
Matt: Good call!
----
Kathryn's good friend from college (Jen from Lost) wrote a real letter to the 90210 character, Dylan. Not Luke Perry, mind you. Dylan. I am curious what address she sent it to. What did she write on the envelope? Kathryn exclaims, "Was this like one of your letters to Santa that you gave to your mom but she never really sent it?" Oh, Jen.
Good call!!!
"This screen has been modified from its original version. The following has been formatted to fit this screen."
And Kathryn made a blog-worthy observation: Why are they informing us about this bit o' editing. Certainly, the editors have made plenty of editing decisions that they didn't feel the need to inform us about - so why this one. "This shot was originally 4 seconds long, but it has been adjusted to be 3.25 seconds." If we don't need every editorial detail, why do we need that one? Good call.
----
Kathryn: Isn't our body temperature 98.6 degrees?
Matt: Yeah.
Kathryn: So, how come when it is 98 degrees outside, we feel so hot? Shouldn't it neutralize itself out into equilibrium or something? Shouldn't that feel...you know, normal?
Matt: Good call!
----
Kathryn's good friend from college (Jen from Lost) wrote a real letter to the 90210 character, Dylan. Not Luke Perry, mind you. Dylan. I am curious what address she sent it to. What did she write on the envelope? Kathryn exclaims, "Was this like one of your letters to Santa that you gave to your mom but she never really sent it?" Oh, Jen.
Good call!!!
Thursday, October 30, 2008
When Things Heat Up: A Conversation
Oliver: How's the eel?
Gene: Ah, it's ok. A bit eel-y if you ask me.
Oliver: I did ask you.
Gene: Well there you go. Eel-y.
Oliver: You should try putting some wasabi on it.
Gene: Wasabi? Naw, I don't mess with that stuff. Too strong. I prefer Tabasco.
Oliver: How is Wasabi stronger than Tabasco?
Gene: Wasabi cleans out your sinuses. It's like receiving a kick to the face. Smack! Plomp!!
Oliver: Plomp? Come on, that's not a kick-to-the-face noise.
Gene: Is it not?
Oliver: No. And furthermore, wasabi may be a kick to the sinus-
Gene: Face.
Oliver: What did I say, "sinus"?
Gene: Yeah.
Oliver: Sorry. Ok....so wasabi may be a kick to the face, but seriously, it totally goes away in like 3 seconds. Tabasco builds on itself, never really leaving your tongue. It just gets perpetually hotter and hotter and hotter and -
Gene: True, but I prefer the slow gradual heat as opposed to the kick-in-the-face (or sinus) heat. Plomp!! I don't know, that's just how I roll.
Oliver: Sushi roll.
Gene: Exactly.
Gene: Ah, it's ok. A bit eel-y if you ask me.
Oliver: I did ask you.
Gene: Well there you go. Eel-y.
Oliver: You should try putting some wasabi on it.
Gene: Wasabi? Naw, I don't mess with that stuff. Too strong. I prefer Tabasco.
Oliver: How is Wasabi stronger than Tabasco?
Gene: Wasabi cleans out your sinuses. It's like receiving a kick to the face. Smack! Plomp!!
Oliver: Plomp? Come on, that's not a kick-to-the-face noise.
Gene: Is it not?
Oliver: No. And furthermore, wasabi may be a kick to the sinus-
Gene: Face.
Oliver: What did I say, "sinus"?
Gene: Yeah.
Oliver: Sorry. Ok....so wasabi may be a kick to the face, but seriously, it totally goes away in like 3 seconds. Tabasco builds on itself, never really leaving your tongue. It just gets perpetually hotter and hotter and hotter and -
Gene: True, but I prefer the slow gradual heat as opposed to the kick-in-the-face (or sinus) heat. Plomp!! I don't know, that's just how I roll.
Oliver: Sushi roll.
Gene: Exactly.
Friday, October 24, 2008
Kernels and Colonels
I remember in the olden days where it was customary to bring a teacher an apple. Perhaps the shiny, robust, Red Delicious would grant you a little extra something something when your teacher was grading your quizzes. You counted on that apple to give you something back. It was an unspoken rule: I give you the apple; you give me the A.
But upon reflection, I realized that an apple is not that great of a bribe. I mean, think about it - an apple? First of all, who would want a free piece of fruit? Is fruit really that hard to find? Is it really that expensive? No, fruit is everywhere. It is growing on the trees that you walk by on your way home from school. There are literally stacks of boxes of mountains of fruit in the grocery store (I do realize that I am in America, mind you).
And why, might I add, was it only an apple? How did this particular piece of fruit get selected as the understood gift for teachers? If I were a teacher, I'd be fairly upset with this system. You get stuck with a whole bunch of apples you didn't need nor want. Why not twinkies? Or cupcakes? Or even if were to stay within the realm of fruit, at least some variety every now and then. Throw an orange up in the mix. Or a kiwi. Heck, I'll even hit up a pomegranate.
If I were a teacher, I would announce on the first day of class, "No apples allowed. If you want to bribe me, actually bribe me. I like Starbucks gift cards and DVDs. I'll also take twinkies and pomegranates."
I also remember having to bring your own box of Kleenex at the beginning of the school year. This was the teachers' way of paying us back for all those unwanted apples. You're gonna give me 800 apples this year? That's fine. But now you have to go out and buy me a box of Kleenex to make up for the lack of twinkies.
But upon reflection, I realized that an apple is not that great of a bribe. I mean, think about it - an apple? First of all, who would want a free piece of fruit? Is fruit really that hard to find? Is it really that expensive? No, fruit is everywhere. It is growing on the trees that you walk by on your way home from school. There are literally stacks of boxes of mountains of fruit in the grocery store (I do realize that I am in America, mind you).
And why, might I add, was it only an apple? How did this particular piece of fruit get selected as the understood gift for teachers? If I were a teacher, I'd be fairly upset with this system. You get stuck with a whole bunch of apples you didn't need nor want. Why not twinkies? Or cupcakes? Or even if were to stay within the realm of fruit, at least some variety every now and then. Throw an orange up in the mix. Or a kiwi. Heck, I'll even hit up a pomegranate.
If I were a teacher, I would announce on the first day of class, "No apples allowed. If you want to bribe me, actually bribe me. I like Starbucks gift cards and DVDs. I'll also take twinkies and pomegranates."
I also remember having to bring your own box of Kleenex at the beginning of the school year. This was the teachers' way of paying us back for all those unwanted apples. You're gonna give me 800 apples this year? That's fine. But now you have to go out and buy me a box of Kleenex to make up for the lack of twinkies.
Friday, October 17, 2008
Colon: A Conversation
Oliver: Oliver colon so the doctor didn't dilate my eyes yesterday.
Gene: Did you just say "Oliver colon" before you spoke?
Oliver: Oliver colon yeah. What's the big deal?
Gene: Why are you doing that?
Oliver: Oliver colon I'm just talking like a movie script would read. You know, on the left side of the page, it reads "Oliver colon" and then carries on what Oliver would be saying.
Gene: That's really stupid. Stop doing that.
Oliver: Oliver colon stop doing what?
Gene: Why a movie script? Why not talk like how a comic book reads?
Oliver: Oliver colon how would that sound? Would it be like, "Bubble: Hi, I'm Oliver"?
Gene: Yeah, I don't know. I'm guessing "bubble" may be as good as you get on that one.
Rose: I can skate in a figure 8.
Gene: Woah! Where did you come from, Rose? You literally just popped out of nowhere.
Oliver: Oliver colon and apparently you can skate in a figure 8. Is that ice skating...or just chewing the fat....or what?.....Rose?......you there?
Gene: I guess she's gone. Have you ever eaten bubble fat, you know the fat that grows on bubbles?
Oliver: Oliver colon "Bubble" I'll be honest, I don't think this is really going anywhere.
Gene: Exactly.
Gene: Did you just say "Oliver colon" before you spoke?
Oliver: Oliver colon yeah. What's the big deal?
Gene: Why are you doing that?
Oliver: Oliver colon I'm just talking like a movie script would read. You know, on the left side of the page, it reads "Oliver colon" and then carries on what Oliver would be saying.
Gene: That's really stupid. Stop doing that.
Oliver: Oliver colon stop doing what?
Gene: Why a movie script? Why not talk like how a comic book reads?
Oliver: Oliver colon how would that sound? Would it be like, "Bubble: Hi, I'm Oliver"?
Gene: Yeah, I don't know. I'm guessing "bubble" may be as good as you get on that one.
Rose: I can skate in a figure 8.
Gene: Woah! Where did you come from, Rose? You literally just popped out of nowhere.
Oliver: Oliver colon and apparently you can skate in a figure 8. Is that ice skating...or just chewing the fat....or what?.....Rose?......you there?
Gene: I guess she's gone. Have you ever eaten bubble fat, you know the fat that grows on bubbles?
Oliver: Oliver colon "Bubble" I'll be honest, I don't think this is really going anywhere.
Gene: Exactly.
Monday, October 13, 2008
Semi-colon Soup and Ampersandwiches
I found myself bouncing (and bounding) across various YouTube videos yesterweek and I happened to stumble upon a young woman's "vlog." Yes, her vlog. She regularly sits in front of her webcam and for anywhere from three to six minutes, she updates you on her life. Here's what I did today. This is what I think about Jonathan in class. I'm doing this and that this weekend. And as much as I didn't care one bit whatsoever, I watched. All three minutes and forty-eight seconds of it. And I have yet to discover why.
Vlogging. Who honestly would regularly watch these videos. Sure, one could make the argument that people watch them the same way I did - stumbling across them. And sure, one could go one to argue that I could have easily stopped it but didn't and that they must possess some inherent enjoyability. And sure, one could argue that I actually have bookmarked it and will check for updates regularly. But honestly, who else would watch these?
What does the internet world (hereafter webfam) care about what some seventeen year old is doing and thinking day after day after day? Does there happen to be a following for such vlogs out there in the webfam (hereafter compunity)? Or am I the only one watching these?
The following is my beef with vlogs. I have serious beef with this new (uncharted?) enterprise. However, to be fair, in addition to my beef, I will also add my cheese with vlogging - the things I find positive about it.
Beef #1 - While blogging is self-indulgent, self-focused, and self-involved, vlogging just cranks this dial up too far for me. "Not only do I demand that you avail yourself to my thinking, my agenda, and my perspective, you must look at me too now. If I didn't have your attention with my words, I will certainly now - now that you can see what posters I have on my dorm room wall behind me and speculate what school I go to."
Beef #2 - The word "vlog." It's hard to say. And it doesn't follow the same formula as "blog." Web Log takes the last letter of the first word "B" and combines it with the second word "Log." B + Log = Blog. If "Video Log" followed the same formula, it should be "Olog," not "Vlog." Furthermore, a "video log" is still on the web, isn't it? It's technically a "Video Web Log," thus it should really be "Oblog."
Beef #3 - No one cares.
---
Cheese #1 - Vlogging does have the potential for sing-alongs and video shorts that regular blogging does not. Also one could do puppet shows (Gene and Oliver puppets?).
Cheese #2 - One can "blog" visually to a set soundtrack. In other words, vlogging can capture audio. I would do something with Emo music. You know, that cool genre which is a shorthand for "Emotional." It could capture the emotional ethos of my vlog. Emo is nice. But again, Emo was so two months ago.
Beef #4 - No one cares.
Vlogging. Who honestly would regularly watch these videos. Sure, one could make the argument that people watch them the same way I did - stumbling across them. And sure, one could go one to argue that I could have easily stopped it but didn't and that they must possess some inherent enjoyability. And sure, one could argue that I actually have bookmarked it and will check for updates regularly. But honestly, who else would watch these?
What does the internet world (hereafter webfam) care about what some seventeen year old is doing and thinking day after day after day? Does there happen to be a following for such vlogs out there in the webfam (hereafter compunity)? Or am I the only one watching these?
The following is my beef with vlogs. I have serious beef with this new (uncharted?) enterprise. However, to be fair, in addition to my beef, I will also add my cheese with vlogging - the things I find positive about it.
Beef #1 - While blogging is self-indulgent, self-focused, and self-involved, vlogging just cranks this dial up too far for me. "Not only do I demand that you avail yourself to my thinking, my agenda, and my perspective, you must look at me too now. If I didn't have your attention with my words, I will certainly now - now that you can see what posters I have on my dorm room wall behind me and speculate what school I go to."
Beef #2 - The word "vlog." It's hard to say. And it doesn't follow the same formula as "blog." Web Log takes the last letter of the first word "B" and combines it with the second word "Log." B + Log = Blog. If "Video Log" followed the same formula, it should be "Olog," not "Vlog." Furthermore, a "video log" is still on the web, isn't it? It's technically a "Video Web Log," thus it should really be "Oblog."
Beef #3 - No one cares.
---
Cheese #1 - Vlogging does have the potential for sing-alongs and video shorts that regular blogging does not. Also one could do puppet shows (Gene and Oliver puppets?).
Cheese #2 - One can "blog" visually to a set soundtrack. In other words, vlogging can capture audio. I would do something with Emo music. You know, that cool genre which is a shorthand for "Emotional." It could capture the emotional ethos of my vlog. Emo is nice. But again, Emo was so two months ago.
Beef #4 - No one cares.
Thursday, October 09, 2008
Discovery over Veggie Chili
It was over a cup of veggie chili that I made this ground breaking discovery:
Arby's. Roast Beef sandwiches. R.B.s (roast beef). "Arby's."
It makes sense.
What doesn't make sense is how someone can actually roast beef. I've heard of toast beef. But roast beef?!? Come on people.
Arby's. Roast Beef sandwiches. R.B.s (roast beef). "Arby's."
It makes sense.
What doesn't make sense is how someone can actually roast beef. I've heard of toast beef. But roast beef?!? Come on people.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Joey Gladstone: An Analysis of Thought
Here is a single man, living in the big, cluttered world of San Fran, trying to make it as a comedian, and decides to move into this house "full" of his best friend's children. The following is why I feel sorry for Joey Gladstone.
First of all, his comedy. He is trying to earn a living via humor but he lacks the necessary qualifications, namely, being humorous. Let's begin with his Rocky and Bullwinkle imitation. Do you know why this isn't funny? It's because nobody watches Rocky and Bullwinkle. Most people don't even know what this is. Get some current material, Joey, not 1960s animated sitcoms with laugh tracks. But then you have his Popeye impersonation. Again, not quite up to date, but a bit more recognizable. Even still, why is this funny? "Woah...blow me down!" Just stupid.
But of course, his "tag line," his catch phrase, his bread-n-butter is his "Cut-it-Out!" accompanied by correlating hand gestures. You have the scissors for the "cut," the finger point for the "it," and the thumb thrown over the shoulder for the "out." He really wants people to cut it out. Badly. And again.....not funny. Just really, really cheesy. And really bad. It makes me uncomfortable just thinking about it.
So you have a terrible comedy act. But secondly, I feel bad for Joey Gladstone because of his living situation. How is a single man in San Francisco honestly supposed to work the dating circuit when he lives in a house "full" of men and children? (Maybe he's working the dating circuit just fine and NBC didn't feel comfortable airing it??).
What drives this man? What motivates him to wake up and keep going? Is it the courtesy laughter that he is guaranteed? Is it because he honestly thinks he is funny? Is it because he enjoys tapping into his inner child via the children surrounding him? Is it his latent attraction toward Uncle Danny or Uncle Jesse (or maybe Kimmy Gibbler?!?)? Who knows?
The conundrum continunes...
Friday, September 19, 2008
How's My Driving?
I love driving behind large vehicles that are ornamented with the inquisitive bumper sticker, "How's my driving?" First of all, that is a fairly insecure question. It assumes the worst in asking it. It might as well be phrased, "I'm a bad driver, aren't I?" Second of all, they actually provide the number so that you can call in and give your two cents. I like this. I've actually called it. It's been too long, but I think it went something like this:
"Hi, this is Matt and well, yes, I'm driving behind this enormous truck. He's driving fairly well, I'd like to report. He's sticking to the speed limit and is staying in his lane. I would like to note though: He's a bit slow on the pickup. It really takes him a while to get going. That's a bit frustrating. What's that?....Oh no....this is not a formal complaint for your records, the slow pickup thing is just a personal preference of mine."
People have let me know how my driving is even though I don't have a sticker on the bumper requesting this information. And they usually don't let me know with words. Usually facial expressions and hand (and finger) signals.
"Hi, this is Matt and well, yes, I'm driving behind this enormous truck. He's driving fairly well, I'd like to report. He's sticking to the speed limit and is staying in his lane. I would like to note though: He's a bit slow on the pickup. It really takes him a while to get going. That's a bit frustrating. What's that?....Oh no....this is not a formal complaint for your records, the slow pickup thing is just a personal preference of mine."
People have let me know how my driving is even though I don't have a sticker on the bumper requesting this information. And they usually don't let me know with words. Usually facial expressions and hand (and finger) signals.
Monday, September 15, 2008
Phone Ethics #2: A Conversation
Gene: So I was at home shaving my cat and using the fur to fuel my yuletide fire the other day, right?
Oliver: Right.
Gene: And out of nowhere, Rog knocks on my door.
Oliver: I thought it was pronounced: Rogg, with a hard "g," almost like "rock." Rogg.
Gene: No, it's a soft "g." Shhuh. Rahsh. "Raj." Like that. Rog.
OIiver: Are you sure? I once overheard Rogg introduce himself to someone and I'm pretty sure he pronounced it with a hard "g." Rogg.
Gene: What are you, serious? Rogg? No, it's short for Roger. Roge. Rahsh. Raj. Not Rogg.
Oliver: Call him.
Gene: You call him. I'm not going to call him.
Oliver: Fine. I'll call him.
...
Oliver: Hello, Rogg? Yeah, hey this is Oliver.....nothing....just sitting here chewing the birds with Gene.....downtown.....no, I'm not going to Firma's party tonight, it sounded a bit lame to me, what with all the line dancing and dart throwing and fire eating and all.....oh yeah?......HA HA HA!!!!......that's hilarious......HA HA HA!!!!!!.......you should totally tell her......uh huh..........uh huh.......yeah.........no way?!?!?............yeah..........ooooh good one!!!.........14?!?!?!?!?!?!? You are crazy, Rogg!!..........yeah.......nah.......uh huh.......Firma.......yeah, that's her name.........I'm serious........No, I'm with Gene here........No, not Geen, with a hard "g," it's more of a soft g "Schheen"......No, I'm serious......uh huh......ok, I'll ask him - Hey, Gene, is your name pronounced with a hard "g" or a soft "g"?
Gene: Hard.
Oliver: Really? Hey, Rogg, Gene says it's pronounced with a hard "g." What would that be? "Geen." Wow. I never knew that. Ok, keep going.....uh huh.....yeah... -
Geen: You know, I love sitting here listening to your conversation with Rogg. It's really how I wanted to spend my afternoon - sitting in silence, watching your expressions change with each new bit of unhearable dialogue. Yeah, I love that. I also love it when you laugh so boisterously loud that the people sitting next to us look over at me in annoyance. I love that too.
Oliver: Uh, hold on Rogg.....Hey, Geen, can you keep it down? I'm on the phone here.
Geen: Exactly.
Oliver: Right.
Gene: And out of nowhere, Rog knocks on my door.
Oliver: I thought it was pronounced: Rogg, with a hard "g," almost like "rock." Rogg.
Gene: No, it's a soft "g." Shhuh. Rahsh. "Raj." Like that. Rog.
OIiver: Are you sure? I once overheard Rogg introduce himself to someone and I'm pretty sure he pronounced it with a hard "g." Rogg.
Gene: What are you, serious? Rogg? No, it's short for Roger. Roge. Rahsh. Raj. Not Rogg.
Oliver: Call him.
Gene: You call him. I'm not going to call him.
Oliver: Fine. I'll call him.
...
Oliver: Hello, Rogg? Yeah, hey this is Oliver.....nothing....just sitting here chewing the birds with Gene.....downtown.....no, I'm not going to Firma's party tonight, it sounded a bit lame to me, what with all the line dancing and dart throwing and fire eating and all.....oh yeah?......HA HA HA!!!!......that's hilarious......HA HA HA!!!!!!.......you should totally tell her......uh huh..........uh huh.......yeah.........no way?!?!?............yeah..........ooooh good one!!!.........14?!?!?!?!?!?!? You are crazy, Rogg!!..........yeah.......nah.......uh huh.......Firma.......yeah, that's her name.........I'm serious........No, I'm with Gene here........No, not Geen, with a hard "g," it's more of a soft g "Schheen"......No, I'm serious......uh huh......ok, I'll ask him - Hey, Gene, is your name pronounced with a hard "g" or a soft "g"?
Gene: Hard.
Oliver: Really? Hey, Rogg, Gene says it's pronounced with a hard "g." What would that be? "Geen." Wow. I never knew that. Ok, keep going.....uh huh.....yeah... -
Geen: You know, I love sitting here listening to your conversation with Rogg. It's really how I wanted to spend my afternoon - sitting in silence, watching your expressions change with each new bit of unhearable dialogue. Yeah, I love that. I also love it when you laugh so boisterously loud that the people sitting next to us look over at me in annoyance. I love that too.
Oliver: Uh, hold on Rogg.....Hey, Geen, can you keep it down? I'm on the phone here.
Geen: Exactly.
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