I like to think that TILfW is generally a merry little blog, hewn from the sturdy wood of open-source encyclopedia articles and varnished with my weak attempts at humor. Its very concept is propelled by the sense of nerdish glee felt upon learning something interesting, and the resulting questions that crop up from wondering about said interesting fact.
Sometimes, however; sometimes learning can be a painful experience.
I had recently been rereading Lynda Barry's autobiographical graphic novel One! Hundred! Demons!, which I highly recommend if you're into that sort of thing, and went on the Wik' to find out more about her.
Apparently she and Ira Glass were a couple at one time. Initially kinda interesting, but then I found this in one of the footnotes, a quote from an article from some journal that doesn't change what it says according to the whims of random yahoos with a wifi signal (ie. a "reliable" source):
Barry does not remember the relationship fondly. The louse in her excellent One! Hundred! Demons! story "Head Lice and My Worst Boyfriend" has been identified as Ira Glass. She is quoted in a 1998 Chicago Reader article as saying of Glass, "I went out with him. It was the worst thing I ever did. When we broke up he gave me a watch and said I was boring and shallow, and I wasn't enough in the moment for him, and it was over." Glass confirms, "Anything bad she says about me I can confirm."
My reality was shattered. Okay, not shattered, but the world seemed a little sadder and duller upon this discovery.
See, I'm sort of in love with him. Googling "crush on Ira Glass" yields 2,170 hits, which makes me feel less alone. He does appeal to the nerdy girl's sensibilities: smart, articulate, quirky, good listener, works for a nonprofit, wears funny glasses. I listen to the This American Life podcast every week, of course. I imagine Ira and I drinking chai lattes and browsing through flea markets, while he regales me with interesting stories unified around a theme; sometimes our friends David Sedaris and Sarah Vowell would be there too, and coincidentally have their own anecdotes to contribute. But this is apparently never going to happen (besides the fact that he's significantly older than me and lives halfway across the country and is married and probably not into girls who live with their parents) because he is a jerk. Or at least he was a jerk in the Eighties.
I'm too heartbroken to pick on the article author for his or her awkward use of "confirm."
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Entry: No Name Key
There is a small island that is part of the Florida Keys known as No Name Key, and its existence is driving me up a wall. The island is named for the fact that it doesn't have a name! What kind of postmodern geography bullshit is that? The kind that angries up the blood, I'll tell you that much.
To No Name Key's credit, however, it does provide a home to an adorable subspecies of white-tailed deer, known as Key Deer. Not No Name Deer, and thank the gods for that, because I would have thrown my laptop across the room in a fit of semiotic rage.
To No Name Key's credit, however, it does provide a home to an adorable subspecies of white-tailed deer, known as Key Deer. Not No Name Deer, and thank the gods for that, because I would have thrown my laptop across the room in a fit of semiotic rage.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Entry: Brfxxccxxmnpcccclllmmnprxvclmnckssqlbb11116
It seems I'm not as good as getting this blog back to its former prolific state as I had hoped; not through lack of material. I'm getting really interesting links from people, which is awesome! Thanks, link senders!
Case in point: the awesome See ASea sent me today's article, about young Brfxxccxxmnpcccclllmmnprxvclmnckssqlbb11116, a lad who has turned into a bit of an urban legend. I've heard this story brought up as an anecdote before-- "Did you know there was some lady who named her kid a string of random numbers and letters that's pronounced 'Steve'?"-- but this is the real deal.
It happened in Sweden in 1991. Elisabeth Hallin and Lasse Diding initially intended to not name their son anything, in protest of a law that disallowed names that would be considered offensive, unsuitable, or "can be supposed to cause discomfort for the one using it." However, since they had not given their son a name by his fifth birthday and faced a fine from the court, they attempted to name him Brfxxccxxmnpcccclllmmnprxvclmnckssqlbb11116 (pronounced "Albin"), "claiming that it was 'a pregnant, expressionistic development that we see as an artistic creation.' The parents suggested the name be understood in the spirit of 'pataphysics. The court rejected the name and upheld the fine." I have to say, though, that rejecting that name on the last term given in the law is pretty reasonable; asking a first grader to write Brfxxccxxmnpcccclllmmnprxvclmnckssqlbb11116 on the top of his worksheet is pretty cruel. Hell, I can't even be bothered to type it out, I've been copypasting this whole time.
They then attempted to name their child A, also pronounced "Albin," but apparently in Sweden there is a law against one-letter names. That's kinda lame. So they gave up and named their kid Albin.
To be honest, I find naming your kid Brfxx... to be more palatable than some of the ridiculous spellings that American parents come up with for common names in a halfhearted stab at originality. But then again I'm not a parent, so What Do I Know. And besides, using a kid's name to make a statement about a law that sucks in theory but relative to other laws probably doesn't matter that much? Swedes, you are awesome. You only trail Iceland in terms of awesomeness.
Case in point: the awesome See ASea sent me today's article, about young Brfxxccxxmnpcccclllmmnprxvclmnckssqlbb11116, a lad who has turned into a bit of an urban legend. I've heard this story brought up as an anecdote before-- "Did you know there was some lady who named her kid a string of random numbers and letters that's pronounced 'Steve'?"-- but this is the real deal.
It happened in Sweden in 1991. Elisabeth Hallin and Lasse Diding initially intended to not name their son anything, in protest of a law that disallowed names that would be considered offensive, unsuitable, or "can be supposed to cause discomfort for the one using it." However, since they had not given their son a name by his fifth birthday and faced a fine from the court, they attempted to name him Brfxxccxxmnpcccclllmmnprxvclmnckssqlbb11116 (pronounced "Albin"), "claiming that it was 'a pregnant, expressionistic development that we see as an artistic creation.' The parents suggested the name be understood in the spirit of 'pataphysics. The court rejected the name and upheld the fine." I have to say, though, that rejecting that name on the last term given in the law is pretty reasonable; asking a first grader to write Brfxxccxxmnpcccclllmmnprxvclmnckssqlbb11116 on the top of his worksheet is pretty cruel. Hell, I can't even be bothered to type it out, I've been copypasting this whole time.
They then attempted to name their child A, also pronounced "Albin," but apparently in Sweden there is a law against one-letter names. That's kinda lame. So they gave up and named their kid Albin.
To be honest, I find naming your kid Brfxx... to be more palatable than some of the ridiculous spellings that American parents come up with for common names in a halfhearted stab at originality. But then again I'm not a parent, so What Do I Know. And besides, using a kid's name to make a statement about a law that sucks in theory but relative to other laws probably doesn't matter that much? Swedes, you are awesome. You only trail Iceland in terms of awesomeness.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Entry: GG Allin
This guy... oh man.
I'm sure a lot of my more hardcore readers already know who GG Allin is, and are probably making fun of me right now for being such a square. My good friend Jess is the one who first made mention of him to me, and she is punk as f-word. In fact, the last time I saw her, she broke a Jack Daniels bottle over my head. I accept your unique way of showing affection, Jess, but did you have to use a full one? That's just wasteful.
So where was I? Uh... oh yes. GG Allin. I'm just going to quote from the article, because I don't even know how to embellish on this.
- "GG was born as Jesus Christ Allin at Weeks Memorial Hospital in Lancaster, New Hampshire. He was given this messianic name because his father, Merle Colby Allin, Sr., told his young wife, Arleta Gunther, that Jesus Christ himself had visited him and told him that his newborn son would be a great and all powerful man in the vein of the Messiah."
- "During the early to mid 1980s, Allin fronted many acts. These included early albums varying from The Cedar Street Sluts to The Scumfucs in 1982, and The Texas Nazis in 1985."
- "...Allin also began eating laxatives before performances - as defecation was becoming a regular stage act."
- "He wrote and visited John Wayne Gacy in prison a number of times and Gacy painted a portrait of Allin, which became the album cover to the soundtrack of the film, Hated: GG Allin And The Murder Junkies."
- "By this point, Allin's performances, which often resulted in considerable damage to venues and sound equipment, were regularly stopped after only a few songs by police or venue owners. Allin was charged with assault and battery or indecent exposure a number of times. His constant touring was only stopped by jail time or by long hospital stays for broken bones, blood poisoning, and other physical trauma."
- "At his funeral, Allin's bloated, discolored corpse was dressed in his black leather jacket and trademark jock strap. He had a bottle of Jim Beam beside him in his casket, per his wishes (openly stated in his self-penned acoustic country ballad, "When I Die"). As part of his brother's request, the mortician was instructed not to wash the corpse (which smelled strongly of feces), or apply any makeup. The funeral became a wild party. Friends posed with the corpse, placing drugs and whiskey into its mouth. As the funeral ended, his brother put a pair of headphones on Allin. The headphones were plugged into a portable cassette player, in which was loaded a copy of The Suicide Sessions. The video of his funeral is widely available for purchase, and is an extra feature on the Hated DVD and some bootleg VHS tapes. His grave is regularly vandalized with feces and alcohol by fans."
That... he... damn. If you'll excuse me, I have some bits to torrent.
I'm sure a lot of my more hardcore readers already know who GG Allin is, and are probably making fun of me right now for being such a square. My good friend Jess is the one who first made mention of him to me, and she is punk as f-word. In fact, the last time I saw her, she broke a Jack Daniels bottle over my head. I accept your unique way of showing affection, Jess, but did you have to use a full one? That's just wasteful.
So where was I? Uh... oh yes. GG Allin. I'm just going to quote from the article, because I don't even know how to embellish on this.
- "GG was born as Jesus Christ Allin at Weeks Memorial Hospital in Lancaster, New Hampshire. He was given this messianic name because his father, Merle Colby Allin, Sr., told his young wife, Arleta Gunther, that Jesus Christ himself had visited him and told him that his newborn son would be a great and all powerful man in the vein of the Messiah."
- "During the early to mid 1980s, Allin fronted many acts. These included early albums varying from The Cedar Street Sluts to The Scumfucs in 1982, and The Texas Nazis in 1985."
- "...Allin also began eating laxatives before performances - as defecation was becoming a regular stage act."
- "He wrote and visited John Wayne Gacy in prison a number of times and Gacy painted a portrait of Allin, which became the album cover to the soundtrack of the film, Hated: GG Allin And The Murder Junkies."
- "By this point, Allin's performances, which often resulted in considerable damage to venues and sound equipment, were regularly stopped after only a few songs by police or venue owners. Allin was charged with assault and battery or indecent exposure a number of times. His constant touring was only stopped by jail time or by long hospital stays for broken bones, blood poisoning, and other physical trauma."
- "At his funeral, Allin's bloated, discolored corpse was dressed in his black leather jacket and trademark jock strap. He had a bottle of Jim Beam beside him in his casket, per his wishes (openly stated in his self-penned acoustic country ballad, "When I Die"). As part of his brother's request, the mortician was instructed not to wash the corpse (which smelled strongly of feces), or apply any makeup. The funeral became a wild party. Friends posed with the corpse, placing drugs and whiskey into its mouth. As the funeral ended, his brother put a pair of headphones on Allin. The headphones were plugged into a portable cassette player, in which was loaded a copy of The Suicide Sessions. The video of his funeral is widely available for purchase, and is an extra feature on the Hated DVD and some bootleg VHS tapes. His grave is regularly vandalized with feces and alcohol by fans."
That... he... damn. If you'll excuse me, I have some bits to torrent.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Entry: Association of the Dead
Yes folks, I'm back. Thanks for the kind birthday wishes! Maybe it's grim death for a young upstart blogger such as myself to take a hiatus, but... damn, I needed one. But I'm back, and as adequate as ever! Yeah!
To celebrate TILfW's resurrection, I thought I'd talk about the Association of the Dead. In a region of northern India called Uttar Pradesh, corrupt officials can be bribed to falsely declare someone dead. Sounds like a capital joke to play on one's chum, to be sure, but unfortunately it's used to do things like, oh, gain ownership of someone's land when they don't want to sell it. Luckily for the walking dead, this association is willing to go to bat for them, because according to the article, "the process to undo this is long, arduous, as well as often hopelessly inefficient and corrupt — not to mention that those least able to fight back make excellent victims." And considering the founder of the organization was "dead" for almost 20 years, this does seem like the kind of thing you'd need some backup for. And you thought the DMV was bad! Wakka wakka.
To celebrate TILfW's resurrection, I thought I'd talk about the Association of the Dead. In a region of northern India called Uttar Pradesh, corrupt officials can be bribed to falsely declare someone dead. Sounds like a capital joke to play on one's chum, to be sure, but unfortunately it's used to do things like, oh, gain ownership of someone's land when they don't want to sell it. Luckily for the walking dead, this association is willing to go to bat for them, because according to the article, "the process to undo this is long, arduous, as well as often hopelessly inefficient and corrupt — not to mention that those least able to fight back make excellent victims." And considering the founder of the organization was "dead" for almost 20 years, this does seem like the kind of thing you'd need some backup for. And you thought the DMV was bad! Wakka wakka.
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Entry: *thhbbbpppt*
It's my birthday, so y'all should amuse your damn selves. I've got some very important drinking to do.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Entry: C.B. Fry
This article was sent to me forever ago by Neil. Thanks Neil, and I apologize for sucking at doing things in a timely fashion.
So, I know nothing about sports, and I know even less about sports that are not popular in my country. But this cricket player, C.B. Fry, was one cool cat.
First, allow me to take a moment and marvel at the sentences in this article that are written in my native tongue, but convey little or no information to me:
"A highly effective right-handed batsman, Fry captained both Sussex and England, and scored over 30,000 first-class runs at an average of over 50 (a particularly high figure for an era when scores were generally lower than today)."
CRAZINESS!
"In his early career Fry was an enthusiastic and successful fast bowler. This was unusual amongst gentleman amateurs and he regularly opened the bowling for University sides and the Gentlemen. The late 1890's saw a re emergence of the throwing controversy. Several professional bowlers including Arthur Mold and Ernie Jones were no balled and forced to retire. Fry's bowling action was criticised by opponents and team mates alike and it was only a matter of time before he too was no balled (by Jim Phillips), despite his status as a gentleman."
HE SURE DID! That throwing controversy will get you every damn time.
On top of cricket, he played football, rugby, tied for the world long jump record, and "was able, from a stationary position on the floor, to leap backwards onto a mantelpiece." Whichever servant got stuck cleaning footprints off the mantel must have loved that particular party trick.
Outside of sport, Fry was an Oxford alum, wrote several books (a good number of which are, unsurprisingly, about cricket), was an adviser to the Indian delegation at the League of Nations (for those of you even more history illiterate than I, the League of Nations was the even more useless precursor to the UN), started two magazines, ran for some kind of crazy British political office, had a career in radio, and was a teacher at a prep school.
And, not only was he a well-rounded intellectual and accomplished athlete, but he was also... um... colorful. Fry was given to telling wild stories, like being offered the throne of Albania, went for naked runs on Brighton Beach, and tried to develop an interest for cricket in Nazi Germany. Presumably he changed his mind on the last bit after the Germans started bombing the hell out of his homeland.
Enthusiasm for the sporting culture of fascist regimes aside, a rather interesting fellow.
So, I know nothing about sports, and I know even less about sports that are not popular in my country. But this cricket player, C.B. Fry, was one cool cat.
First, allow me to take a moment and marvel at the sentences in this article that are written in my native tongue, but convey little or no information to me:
"A highly effective right-handed batsman, Fry captained both Sussex and England, and scored over 30,000 first-class runs at an average of over 50 (a particularly high figure for an era when scores were generally lower than today)."
CRAZINESS!
"In his early career Fry was an enthusiastic and successful fast bowler. This was unusual amongst gentleman amateurs and he regularly opened the bowling for University sides and the Gentlemen. The late 1890's saw a re emergence of the throwing controversy. Several professional bowlers including Arthur Mold and Ernie Jones were no balled and forced to retire. Fry's bowling action was criticised by opponents and team mates alike and it was only a matter of time before he too was no balled (by Jim Phillips), despite his status as a gentleman."
HE SURE DID! That throwing controversy will get you every damn time.
On top of cricket, he played football, rugby, tied for the world long jump record, and "was able, from a stationary position on the floor, to leap backwards onto a mantelpiece." Whichever servant got stuck cleaning footprints off the mantel must have loved that particular party trick.
Outside of sport, Fry was an Oxford alum, wrote several books (a good number of which are, unsurprisingly, about cricket), was an adviser to the Indian delegation at the League of Nations (for those of you even more history illiterate than I, the League of Nations was the even more useless precursor to the UN), started two magazines, ran for some kind of crazy British political office, had a career in radio, and was a teacher at a prep school.
And, not only was he a well-rounded intellectual and accomplished athlete, but he was also... um... colorful. Fry was given to telling wild stories, like being offered the throne of Albania, went for naked runs on Brighton Beach, and tried to develop an interest for cricket in Nazi Germany. Presumably he changed his mind on the last bit after the Germans started bombing the hell out of his homeland.
Enthusiasm for the sporting culture of fascist regimes aside, a rather interesting fellow.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Entry: Thagomizer
I thought I'd stick with the vague etymology theme I've had going on and talk about a link that friend of the blog Galadriel linked me to a while back. Thank you, Galadriel! Or, should I say, hantanyel.
If, like me, you went through a serious dinosaur phase as a kid, you probably remember that the stegosaurus is the one with the big plates sticking up off his back and a spiked tail. And if, like me, you went through a serious Far Side phase several years later, you probably remember that Gary Larson drew strips about cavemen, like, all the damn time.
Well, apparently paleontologists really took a shine to this particular comic
because the term thagomizer has become an accepted (if informal) synonym for stegosaurus' tail spikes. Seriously, is there anything better than a scientist with a great sense of humor? Okay, there's plenty of things, but... they're still pretty cool.
I love that the article is careful to point out that "The fate of Thag Simmons notwithstanding, stegosaurs and humans did not exist in the same era." Suck it, creationists. (Assuming that Leviticus will let you.)
If, like me, you went through a serious dinosaur phase as a kid, you probably remember that the stegosaurus is the one with the big plates sticking up off his back and a spiked tail. And if, like me, you went through a serious Far Side phase several years later, you probably remember that Gary Larson drew strips about cavemen, like, all the damn time.
Well, apparently paleontologists really took a shine to this particular comic
because the term thagomizer has become an accepted (if informal) synonym for stegosaurus' tail spikes. Seriously, is there anything better than a scientist with a great sense of humor? Okay, there's plenty of things, but... they're still pretty cool.
I love that the article is careful to point out that "The fate of Thag Simmons notwithstanding, stegosaurs and humans did not exist in the same era." Suck it, creationists. (Assuming that Leviticus will let you.)
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Entry: Avocado
Another dirty-minded friend, another adult-themed entry.
Emma told me to check out the article for Avocado, the most delicious of non-sweet fruits, specifically the "Etymology" part. So, innocent lamb that I am, I click on the link she tweeted me.
Well, my friends, innocent lamb no more! Avocados were named after balls. Balls.
Okay, specifically the Nahuatl word for testicle, "ahuacatl." On top of that, avocados have quite a sordid reputation: "Historically avocados had a long-standing stigma as a sexual stimulant and were not purchased or consumed by any person wishing to preserve a chaste image. Avocados were known by the Aztecs as 'the fertility fruit'."
This is shocking! Especially for me. I love avocados-- or at least, I used to. I live in a small town, I don't want gossip to spread about who I pick up at bars due to what I pick up in the produce aisle. (See what I did there? I am a clever one.)
And my longstanding and famous love of guacamole (for once, I am not lying for the sake of humor-- I am a guacamole fiend); what have people been assuming? That I like to mash up balls and mix them with lime juice, salt, garlic, and cilantro?
...although, if I ever become a high-powered corporate shark of some kind, that might not be a bad image to have. Or a dominatrix.
Emma told me to check out the article for Avocado, the most delicious of non-sweet fruits, specifically the "Etymology" part. So, innocent lamb that I am, I click on the link she tweeted me.
Well, my friends, innocent lamb no more! Avocados were named after balls. Balls.
Okay, specifically the Nahuatl word for testicle, "ahuacatl." On top of that, avocados have quite a sordid reputation: "Historically avocados had a long-standing stigma as a sexual stimulant and were not purchased or consumed by any person wishing to preserve a chaste image. Avocados were known by the Aztecs as 'the fertility fruit'."
This is shocking! Especially for me. I love avocados-- or at least, I used to. I live in a small town, I don't want gossip to spread about who I pick up at bars due to what I pick up in the produce aisle. (See what I did there? I am a clever one.)
And my longstanding and famous love of guacamole (for once, I am not lying for the sake of humor-- I am a guacamole fiend); what have people been assuming? That I like to mash up balls and mix them with lime juice, salt, garlic, and cilantro?
...although, if I ever become a high-powered corporate shark of some kind, that might not be a bad image to have. Or a dominatrix.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Entry: Mantis Shrimp
Another urgent text message regarding a Wiki article, this time from Ziggy! Ah, the benefits of surrounding oneself with irredeemable nerds.
The first thing that struck me about the article was, of course, the colorful photo:
"Oooh!" I said to myself, "How pretty! The mantis shrimp must be the geisha of the sea."
But then I actually set about reading and gaining information!
The mantis shrimp is cold-blooded, and I mean that both literally and figuratively. The hundreds of species of mantis shrimp are separated into groups by what kind of claws they have: spearers have appendages with barbed tips, while smashers have "possess a much more developed club and a more rudimentary spear". Shrimps got spears.
On top of that, they are very good at using their claws for carnage: "In smashers, these two weapons are employed with blinding quickness...about the acceleration of a .22 caliber bullet. Because they strike so rapidly, they generate cavitation bubbles between the appendage and the striking surface. The collapse of these cavitation bubbles produces measurable forces on their prey in addition to the instantaneous forces of 1,500 newton that are caused by the impact of the appendage against the striking surface, which means that the prey is hit twice by a single strike; first by the claw and then by the collapsing cavitation bubbles that immediately follow. Even if the initial strike misses the prey, the resulting shock wave can be enough to kill or stun the prey." Shrimps will cut you. With physics.
Additionally, their eyes can move independently of each other and can see both ultraviolet and infrared. And they exhibit high intelligence and complex social behavior.
So, in conclusion, my original hypothesis was wrong. Mantis shrimp are the samurai of the sea.
There's a lot of detailed information in the Wiki article, but it leaves a lot of questions. Why haven't mantis shrimp conquered humans yet? Is there an ongoing government project to transplant crazy shrimp eyes into human subjects, making a hybrid supersoldier? What is my obsession with analogies comparing marine life with Japanese stereotypes? The world may never know.
The first thing that struck me about the article was, of course, the colorful photo:
"Oooh!" I said to myself, "How pretty! The mantis shrimp must be the geisha of the sea."
But then I actually set about reading and gaining information!
The mantis shrimp is cold-blooded, and I mean that both literally and figuratively. The hundreds of species of mantis shrimp are separated into groups by what kind of claws they have: spearers have appendages with barbed tips, while smashers have "possess a much more developed club and a more rudimentary spear". Shrimps got spears.
On top of that, they are very good at using their claws for carnage: "In smashers, these two weapons are employed with blinding quickness...about the acceleration of a .22 caliber bullet. Because they strike so rapidly, they generate cavitation bubbles between the appendage and the striking surface. The collapse of these cavitation bubbles produces measurable forces on their prey in addition to the instantaneous forces of 1,500 newton that are caused by the impact of the appendage against the striking surface, which means that the prey is hit twice by a single strike; first by the claw and then by the collapsing cavitation bubbles that immediately follow. Even if the initial strike misses the prey, the resulting shock wave can be enough to kill or stun the prey." Shrimps will cut you. With physics.
Additionally, their eyes can move independently of each other and can see both ultraviolet and infrared. And they exhibit high intelligence and complex social behavior.
So, in conclusion, my original hypothesis was wrong. Mantis shrimp are the samurai of the sea.
There's a lot of detailed information in the Wiki article, but it leaves a lot of questions. Why haven't mantis shrimp conquered humans yet? Is there an ongoing government project to transplant crazy shrimp eyes into human subjects, making a hybrid supersoldier? What is my obsession with analogies comparing marine life with Japanese stereotypes? The world may never know.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
