The very existence of this blog, if not the individual entries themselves, imply that I'm a hopeless geek. So the setup of this entry is probably of no surprise: "I was watching an episode of Futurama* with the audio commentary on, and."
I was watching an episode of Futurama with the audio commentary on, and since composer Christopher Tyng was one of the commentators, the use of music in the series was one of the major discussions. Besides talking about the fact that Futurama was one of the few remaining shows to use an actual orchestra-- neat-- he kept mentioning the use of boobams. Since I was doing chores at the time, I was more listening than watching, and got really confused when he said, "Notice the boobams in this scene."
My immediate reaction was, "Oh wow, I didn't realize there was a director's cut of this episode!" but as it turns out, my immediate assumption was quite wrong. As opposed to being a somewhat childish euphemism for censorable anatomy, the boobam is a percussion instrument, originally made out of bamboo, that produce a hollow, wooden sound. So another viable name for them would be "knockers," I suppose. And since I originally assumed that boobams were in fact knockers, the entry comes full circle.
* For the record, I believe it was s02e15, "The Problem with Popplers."
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Monday, March 16, 2009
Entry: Noodling
I first heard about noodling on NPR (considering the stereotypical NPR listener, it's amazing how much one can learn about rural life from it, especially on the weekends). I tuned in in the middle of the program, so while I learned that it was popular in Oklahoma, I wasn't sure what it was for a while. Considering the activity is called "noodling," I thought maybe it produced baby Okies, but that is not the case at all. By the time I pieced together what noodling is, not only had I reached my destination and it was time to turn the radio off, but I was all shades of "Are you effing kidding me." Surely those mellow-voiced, eloquently homey radio hosts were pulling a fast one!
When I got home I turned to Wiki, and, well, the proof is in the pudding. And by "pudding" I mean "open-source encyclopedia entry." I might as well just cut and paste, because I'm sure you're getting impatient:
Although the concept, catching fish with only the use of the arm in the water, is simple enough, the process of noodling is more complicated. The choice of catfish as the prey is not arbitrary, but comes from the circumstances of their habitat. Flathead catfish live in holes or under brush in rivers and lakes and thus are easy to capture due to the static nature of their dwelling. To begin, a noodler goes underwater to depths ranging from only a few feet to up to twenty feet, placing his hand inside a discovered catfish hole. If all goes as planned, the catfish will swim forward and latch onto the fisherman's hand, usually as a defensive maneuver in order to try to escape the hole. If the fish is particularly large, the noodler can hook the head around its gills.
If you're having trouble wrapping your head around that, here's a montage to illustrate, courtesy of YouTube.
Yankee that I am, the thought of sticking my hand in a giant fish's gill strikes me as kind of gross. It's also a pastime that involves the very real possibility of pissing off snapping turtles, gators, or whatever angry, sharp-toothed, aquatic animals might live in your region (including the catfish themselves-- a 60 pound fish must be a formidable opponent). TILfW's official stance: consider taking up macrame instead.
When I got home I turned to Wiki, and, well, the proof is in the pudding. And by "pudding" I mean "open-source encyclopedia entry." I might as well just cut and paste, because I'm sure you're getting impatient:
Although the concept, catching fish with only the use of the arm in the water, is simple enough, the process of noodling is more complicated. The choice of catfish as the prey is not arbitrary, but comes from the circumstances of their habitat. Flathead catfish live in holes or under brush in rivers and lakes and thus are easy to capture due to the static nature of their dwelling. To begin, a noodler goes underwater to depths ranging from only a few feet to up to twenty feet, placing his hand inside a discovered catfish hole. If all goes as planned, the catfish will swim forward and latch onto the fisherman's hand, usually as a defensive maneuver in order to try to escape the hole. If the fish is particularly large, the noodler can hook the head around its gills.
If you're having trouble wrapping your head around that, here's a montage to illustrate, courtesy of YouTube.
Yankee that I am, the thought of sticking my hand in a giant fish's gill strikes me as kind of gross. It's also a pastime that involves the very real possibility of pissing off snapping turtles, gators, or whatever angry, sharp-toothed, aquatic animals might live in your region (including the catfish themselves-- a 60 pound fish must be a formidable opponent). TILfW's official stance: consider taking up macrame instead.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Entry: Tear tattoo
First let me say, I know all about prison life because I've watched the entire run of HBO's Oz. Twice. Hell yeah.
Even if you don't have the kind of street cred that I do, you've probably seen someone with a tear tattoo. It's pretty common knowledge in the US that the tear is a memorial to a deceased loveone, but is also a prison tattoo that signifies the inkee has murdered someone.
However, in Australian prisons, tear tattoos are forced onto the faces of convicted child molesters. So, my advice to anyone who has a tear tattoo and has designs on visiting Australia: keep a low profile. Or invest in a tube of concealer. In fact, you might want to stay on the safe side and just make alternate travel plans.
Even if you don't have the kind of street cred that I do, you've probably seen someone with a tear tattoo. It's pretty common knowledge in the US that the tear is a memorial to a deceased loveone, but is also a prison tattoo that signifies the inkee has murdered someone.
However, in Australian prisons, tear tattoos are forced onto the faces of convicted child molesters. So, my advice to anyone who has a tear tattoo and has designs on visiting Australia: keep a low profile. Or invest in a tube of concealer. In fact, you might want to stay on the safe side and just make alternate travel plans.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Entry: Jack Churchill
If someone were to ask, "If there were an extended Churchill family reunion that traversed the boundaries of time and space to bring many generations of the clan together, which Churchill would be the most badass?" You would probably answer, "Well, Winston Churchill, because he was the PM of Britain during World War II and we honor that legacy by comparing newborn babies' faces to his."
And I would say, "NO."
I submit that the most badass Churchill was, in fact, this guy, "Fighting" Jack Churchill. Same general time period as the other one, probably not a close relative, Churchill is probably best known for having fought during World War II armed with a bow and arrow and a claymore. BAD ASS! In fact, he is the only known British soldier to have felled an enemy with a longbow during WWII. AWESOME! And then the Nazis caught him and put him in a concentration camp-- and he escaped. WHOA! And then he was captured again, and he escaped again! ADDITIONAL INTERJECTION!
I might sound flippant here, but believe me, I'm only making fun of how impressed I am by this crazy story. (Oh sure, the article has been flagged for "unverified claims," but I can't imagine that further research would divulge anything more interesting, unless there's a newsreel out there with him punching Hitler in the face or something.) There needs to be a movie, and it needs to star Jason Statham.
And I would say, "NO."
I submit that the most badass Churchill was, in fact, this guy, "Fighting" Jack Churchill. Same general time period as the other one, probably not a close relative, Churchill is probably best known for having fought during World War II armed with a bow and arrow and a claymore. BAD ASS! In fact, he is the only known British soldier to have felled an enemy with a longbow during WWII. AWESOME! And then the Nazis caught him and put him in a concentration camp-- and he escaped. WHOA! And then he was captured again, and he escaped again! ADDITIONAL INTERJECTION!
I might sound flippant here, but believe me, I'm only making fun of how impressed I am by this crazy story. (Oh sure, the article has been flagged for "unverified claims," but I can't imagine that further research would divulge anything more interesting, unless there's a newsreel out there with him punching Hitler in the face or something.) There needs to be a movie, and it needs to star Jason Statham.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Entry: The Story of the Three Bears
It seems that a good number of these entries find their genesis with my boyfriend raising a question. Take the other night, for instance, when we were watching The Simpsons episode "Treehouse of Horror XI," which led to "How does Goldilocks and the Three Bears really end?" Now I never cared much for this particular fairytale; I was a sensitive child, and I think the stranger-danger mania of the late eighties and early nineties really got to me. So my answer was something along the lines of, "She gets eaten! She escapes! I have no idea."
Wiki, for once, made things even more confusing. An 1837 version featured a dirty, foul-mouthed old woman in Goldilocks' place. In that story, she escaped when the bears discovered her; however, in an 1831 version, the bears try to drown the old woman, then try to burn her alive, and finally impale her on a church steeple. Later in the nineteenth century, the old woman character became a little girl, but her name was "Silver Hair"-- presumably she was portrayed by Steve Martin.
So, to summarize: she gets eaten. She escapes. I have no idea.
Wiki, for once, made things even more confusing. An 1837 version featured a dirty, foul-mouthed old woman in Goldilocks' place. In that story, she escaped when the bears discovered her; however, in an 1831 version, the bears try to drown the old woman, then try to burn her alive, and finally impale her on a church steeple. Later in the nineteenth century, the old woman character became a little girl, but her name was "Silver Hair"-- presumably she was portrayed by Steve Martin.
So, to summarize: she gets eaten. She escapes. I have no idea.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Entry: ???
I found out, via Wikipedia and completely by chance, a casting spoiler for Joss Whedon's Dollhouse.
Who is playing Alpha? You either care, or you don't care, or you know already! Or a combination!
I won't force it upon you, but if you want to know, here's a large glaring hint.
Who is playing Alpha? You either care, or you don't care, or you know already! Or a combination!
I won't force it upon you, but if you want to know, here's a large glaring hint.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Entry: Commonwealth Black Pudding Throwing Championships
Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the most frustratingly tantalizing article stub I have ever come across in my years of browsing Wikipedia:
"The first Commonwealth Black Pudding Throwing Championships were held in Ramsbottom, Greater Manchester on August 11, 2002 as part of the activities surrounding the Commonwealth Games in Manchester.
Participants took part from England, Scotland, Wales, South Africa and other countries."
That's it? People from around the world gathered together in a competition of pudding throwing, and it's only worth two sentences? What were the rules? Who won? Were there any record broken? What the hell is a black pudding? Okay, I actually know what a black pudding is. (Not too shabby for an American!) I've never indulged, because I have a personal rule about not eating something that looks like a giant scab, but I have seen them.
The official homepage is no longer there, but luckily the BBC article about the 2004 event is. The object of the contest is to lob a blood pudding (according to one of the commenters, "Bury Black Puddings from Chadwicks. Special competition weight, swaddled in ladies tights.") at a stack of Yorkshire puddings. Whoever knocks down the most Yorkshire puddings wins.
I like to think that I'm someone who keeps things in perspective and doesn't take her life for granted, but right now I'm very sad to have been born in the land of monster truck rallies.
"The first Commonwealth Black Pudding Throwing Championships were held in Ramsbottom, Greater Manchester on August 11, 2002 as part of the activities surrounding the Commonwealth Games in Manchester.
Participants took part from England, Scotland, Wales, South Africa and other countries."
That's it? People from around the world gathered together in a competition of pudding throwing, and it's only worth two sentences? What were the rules? Who won? Were there any record broken? What the hell is a black pudding? Okay, I actually know what a black pudding is. (Not too shabby for an American!) I've never indulged, because I have a personal rule about not eating something that looks like a giant scab, but I have seen them.
The official homepage is no longer there, but luckily the BBC article about the 2004 event is. The object of the contest is to lob a blood pudding (according to one of the commenters, "Bury Black Puddings from Chadwicks. Special competition weight, swaddled in ladies tights.") at a stack of Yorkshire puddings. Whoever knocks down the most Yorkshire puddings wins.
I like to think that I'm someone who keeps things in perspective and doesn't take her life for granted, but right now I'm very sad to have been born in the land of monster truck rallies.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Entry: Palimpsest
I learned what a palimpsest was in a Women's Studies class in college (I have no idea what it had to do with Women's Studies. Um. I vaguely remember a connection with Slavoj Žižek? If anyone wants to enlighten me on the connection between palimpsests and the works of Žižek, you will earn serious brownie points).
Stupidly put: when a monk wanted to translate the Bible or something into the vulgate but didn't have a blank parchment, he'd find a used parchment, scrape his grocery list or what have you off, and use it anew. And when you can see the old writing behind the new, that's a palimpsest! Apparently, the term is also used in architecture, and I will let the Wik' speak for itself:
"Architects imply palimpsest as a ghost —- an image of what once was. In the built environment, this occurs more than we might think. Whenever spaces are shuffled, rebuilt, or remodeled, shadows remain. Tarred rooflines remain on the sides of a building long after the neighboring structure has been demolished; removed stairs leave a mark where the painted wall surface stopped. Dust lines remain from a relocated appliance. Ancient ruins speak volumes of their former wholeness. Palimpsests can inform us, archaeologically, of the realities of the built past."
Awfully poetic for a Wiki article, don't you think?
You might be wondering why a slacker like me who usually updates twice a week is making two posts in a day, and one is about something she already knows about. The reason is quite simple: one of my favorite authors, Catherynne M. Valente, has a new book out today, and guess what the title is!
...Palimpsest. It's-- the title is Palimpsest. No, no, that was a good guess too.
Anyway: I heard her give a sneak preview reading at SalonCon a few months ago, and I'm very excited for this book. Her novels are incredible post-modern fairytales: I recently read The Orphan's Tales: in the City of Coin and Spice, and it was transcendent. I very rarely get so caught up in a book, but I was sitting at my desk at work, reading and trying so hard not to cry, because if someone had asked me why I was so upset, I would have blubbered something incoherent about soul-leaves and been advised to take the afternoon off and gone to see a doctor.
But I heartily encourage you to give Palimpsest a try-- there's more information about it on the amazon.com page. But don't take my word for it-- Warren Ellis liked it. And he's way cooler than I'll ever be.
Stupidly put: when a monk wanted to translate the Bible or something into the vulgate but didn't have a blank parchment, he'd find a used parchment, scrape his grocery list or what have you off, and use it anew. And when you can see the old writing behind the new, that's a palimpsest! Apparently, the term is also used in architecture, and I will let the Wik' speak for itself:
"Architects imply palimpsest as a ghost —- an image of what once was. In the built environment, this occurs more than we might think. Whenever spaces are shuffled, rebuilt, or remodeled, shadows remain. Tarred rooflines remain on the sides of a building long after the neighboring structure has been demolished; removed stairs leave a mark where the painted wall surface stopped. Dust lines remain from a relocated appliance. Ancient ruins speak volumes of their former wholeness. Palimpsests can inform us, archaeologically, of the realities of the built past."
Awfully poetic for a Wiki article, don't you think?
You might be wondering why a slacker like me who usually updates twice a week is making two posts in a day, and one is about something she already knows about. The reason is quite simple: one of my favorite authors, Catherynne M. Valente, has a new book out today, and guess what the title is!
...Palimpsest. It's-- the title is Palimpsest. No, no, that was a good guess too.
Anyway: I heard her give a sneak preview reading at SalonCon a few months ago, and I'm very excited for this book. Her novels are incredible post-modern fairytales: I recently read The Orphan's Tales: in the City of Coin and Spice, and it was transcendent. I very rarely get so caught up in a book, but I was sitting at my desk at work, reading and trying so hard not to cry, because if someone had asked me why I was so upset, I would have blubbered something incoherent about soul-leaves and been advised to take the afternoon off and gone to see a doctor.
But I heartily encourage you to give Palimpsest a try-- there's more information about it on the amazon.com page. But don't take my word for it-- Warren Ellis liked it. And he's way cooler than I'll ever be.
Entry: Lone Wolf and Cub
I'm not industrious enough to double-check, but the plurality of my posts are related to movies. Why not, sounds good to me. It's one of the things that I really love to geek out about, to the point where I have to check myself to make sure I'm not solely using the term "film" and sounding like a complete gasbag.
Anyway, something that gives me great pleasure when browsing Wiki articles on films (see, there I go) is reading about subgenres, like chanbara, Japanese action flicks about samurai. Apparently a lot of these movies are serials featuring well-known characters. I had heard of Zatoichi the blind samurai (and by "head of" I mean "saw a parody of him on The Boondocks"), but the one that really caught me off guard with his sharp sharp katana was Lone Wolf and Cub: six films, four plays, a television series, and a 28-volume manga about a samuai, Itto, and his 3-year-old son, Daigoro, who he pushes around Japan in a baby carriage, all the while stabbing ninjas and seeking revenge for the murder of his wife.
One thing I'm not quite clear on: does Daigoro fight alongside his dad? There's a screenshot of him from one of the movies:
(D'awwwww, baby samurai!) He's holding that stick like a weapon, but that doesn't necessarily mean he's fighting. Besides, if my dad was the Shogun's grand executioner and all I got as a weapon was a lousy stick, I would be pissed. But how would they achieve that in the movies with a child actor? A midget stand-in? I found a trailer for one of them (NSFW):
which includes Daigoro brandishing the stick, but it doesn't really answer my questions. I don't speak Japanese, so I don't have the slightest clue as to what the dialogue is ("What are you, crazy? He's not even wearing armor! I should call child services.").
I'm interested in seeing these, partially because I like a good action flick, but also because the some of English names are the best titles ever given anything in recorded history:
Lone Wolf and Cub: Baby Cart at the River Styx
Lone Wolf and Cub: Baby Cart to Hades
Lone Wolf and Cub: Baby Cart in Peril
Lone Wolf and Cub: Baby Cart in the Land of Demons
How could anyone not want to see a movie subtitled "Baby Cart to Hades?"
Anyway, something that gives me great pleasure when browsing Wiki articles on films (see, there I go) is reading about subgenres, like chanbara, Japanese action flicks about samurai. Apparently a lot of these movies are serials featuring well-known characters. I had heard of Zatoichi the blind samurai (and by "head of" I mean "saw a parody of him on The Boondocks"), but the one that really caught me off guard with his sharp sharp katana was Lone Wolf and Cub: six films, four plays, a television series, and a 28-volume manga about a samuai, Itto, and his 3-year-old son, Daigoro, who he pushes around Japan in a baby carriage, all the while stabbing ninjas and seeking revenge for the murder of his wife.
One thing I'm not quite clear on: does Daigoro fight alongside his dad? There's a screenshot of him from one of the movies:
(D'awwwww, baby samurai!) He's holding that stick like a weapon, but that doesn't necessarily mean he's fighting. Besides, if my dad was the Shogun's grand executioner and all I got as a weapon was a lousy stick, I would be pissed. But how would they achieve that in the movies with a child actor? A midget stand-in? I found a trailer for one of them (NSFW):
which includes Daigoro brandishing the stick, but it doesn't really answer my questions. I don't speak Japanese, so I don't have the slightest clue as to what the dialogue is ("What are you, crazy? He's not even wearing armor! I should call child services.").
I'm interested in seeing these, partially because I like a good action flick, but also because the some of English names are the best titles ever given anything in recorded history:
Lone Wolf and Cub: Baby Cart at the River Styx
Lone Wolf and Cub: Baby Cart to Hades
Lone Wolf and Cub: Baby Cart in Peril
Lone Wolf and Cub: Baby Cart in the Land of Demons
How could anyone not want to see a movie subtitled "Baby Cart to Hades?"
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Entry: Sedlec Ossuary
I'd heard from some non-Wiki source (probably Ripley's Believe It or Not) about the Sedlec Ossuary, a chapel in the Czech Republic decorated with human bones. But what I learned about from the Wik' was the accompanying documentary. Good Lord.
It was filmed in 1970 by Jan Švankmajer (hell yeah I got the diacritic in there), macabre animator and influence for directors such as Tim Burton and Terry Gilliam, who had been commissioned to do so by the Czech government. And film he did. To quote the article: "The result was a 10 minute long frantic-cut nightmare of skeletal images overdubbed with an actual tour-guide's neutral voice narration. This version was initially banned by the Czech Communist authorities for alleged subversion, and the soundtrack was replaced by a brief spoken introduction and a jazz arrangement by Zdeněk Liška of the poem 'Comment dessiner le portrait d'un oiseau' ('How to Draw the Portrait of a Bird') by Jacques Prévert."
I can see how it would be interpreted as subversive, but honestly, is there any way to film a chandelier made of human skulls and make it seem like a testament to your country's glorious culture and rich history? And how would a jazz arrangement change any of that?
And because I love you so much, here's a link to the film in its entirety. Warning: it's pretty disturbing. If you are on drugs, were on drugs, about to do drugs, or are contemplating doing drugs in the future, I would recommend not watching it.
It was filmed in 1970 by Jan Švankmajer (hell yeah I got the diacritic in there), macabre animator and influence for directors such as Tim Burton and Terry Gilliam, who had been commissioned to do so by the Czech government. And film he did. To quote the article: "The result was a 10 minute long frantic-cut nightmare of skeletal images overdubbed with an actual tour-guide's neutral voice narration. This version was initially banned by the Czech Communist authorities for alleged subversion, and the soundtrack was replaced by a brief spoken introduction and a jazz arrangement by Zdeněk Liška of the poem 'Comment dessiner le portrait d'un oiseau' ('How to Draw the Portrait of a Bird') by Jacques Prévert."
I can see how it would be interpreted as subversive, but honestly, is there any way to film a chandelier made of human skulls and make it seem like a testament to your country's glorious culture and rich history? And how would a jazz arrangement change any of that?
And because I love you so much, here's a link to the film in its entirety. Warning: it's pretty disturbing. If you are on drugs, were on drugs, about to do drugs, or are contemplating doing drugs in the future, I would recommend not watching it.
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