God, I'm showing my age.
Brigitte and I were talking last night about the entertainment we had as kids, and I was able to up even her pathetic story! "All we had was this old radio, and we'd cuddle around it and listen." This conversation, by the way, was inspired by something I read about an incredibly bad idea, on par with smell-o-vision: some suit came up with the concept of an "interactive" way to read. You read this e-book thingy, but when you come to certain passages, like "The footsteps became louder and louder" audio footsteps appear on your earbuds. When it says "The wind sighed through the trees . . . " uh, okay, you get the point.
I mean, what's the bloody point? The whole point of great literature is that through the writer, your IMAGINATION is forced to work. Obviously, a great writer is going to make your imagining a whole lot more enjoyable than a lousy writer. Otherwise, why bother having a writer? (Side note: I cleaned up our library yesterday and had dug out a book about the making of the atomic bomb. I wanted HER to get into it too, so I started reading aloud in what I thought was a deep, sonorous voice. She started laughing. "Why are you laughing?" say I. "You sound like that guy on all those animal shows."
I was deeply offended. That guy. THAT GUY happens to be Sir David Attenborough Guy. But I digress!!)
Anyway, I pointed out to Brigitte that when I was growing up, we didn't even have a radio. We had a "phonograph" upon which my parents would play Sinatra or musicals (they were very popular back then) or classical. That was it. That . . . and books. According to my mother, I was reading quite capably at three years old. I hardly think that's possible, but that's what she says. But that's all we had. That's all my parents had too.
(cue tiny violin on shoulder)
And we had to walk twelve miles to school . . . and had the same pair of shoes for ten years and thin gruel for breakfast lunch and dinner yada yada yada
Friday, August 26, 2011
Thursday, August 25, 2011
The Daily Word
Can anybody explain to me why the word "propinquity" is not used more in daily conversation? Say, in an informal, joking-around kind of way? Or an intimate conversation between new lovers? Or in a terse aside among soldiers involved in a firefight with insurgents two klicks from Fallujah city center?
I feel it's most unfair that "propinquity" has been banished to occasional usage in little-read historical theses and confined to verbal use only among particle physicists and lawyers in remote villages in India.
Anyone up for a nice old-fashioned sitdown "work-to-rule" strike to advance the cause of more usage of the word "propinquity"?
Easy now, no shoving or pushing allowed on the premises.
I feel it's most unfair that "propinquity" has been banished to occasional usage in little-read historical theses and confined to verbal use only among particle physicists and lawyers in remote villages in India.
Anyone up for a nice old-fashioned sitdown "work-to-rule" strike to advance the cause of more usage of the word "propinquity"?
Easy now, no shoving or pushing allowed on the premises.
If Words Had a Weight
I've always wondered about this, as I'm fascinated about what the power the word, be it it written, or spoken, has over people. Obviously certain words carry a lot more weight than others. Again, I'm referring to both the spoken and the written word.
To someone who cannot read, obviously the spoken word is the most powerful. But to someone who cannot hear, the written word, apart from sign language, becomes the only means of communication.
To someone who cannot hear nor see, obviously this becomes beyond the scope of what I'm trying to get at.
But it just occurred to me that the most powerful word in the entire speaking world of humans is "me."
Just summoning the word to the mind bespeaks whole fountains of emotion, certainly nothing like "I" or "you". "Me" might possibly be the single most important word, in any language, in any form, indeed, even in non-human form, that exists on this planet.
To ME, this word rates a ten-plus on any scale. How about you?
To someone who cannot read, obviously the spoken word is the most powerful. But to someone who cannot hear, the written word, apart from sign language, becomes the only means of communication.
To someone who cannot hear nor see, obviously this becomes beyond the scope of what I'm trying to get at.
But it just occurred to me that the most powerful word in the entire speaking world of humans is "me."
Just summoning the word to the mind bespeaks whole fountains of emotion, certainly nothing like "I" or "you". "Me" might possibly be the single most important word, in any language, in any form, indeed, even in non-human form, that exists on this planet.
To ME, this word rates a ten-plus on any scale. How about you?
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Flotillas to Syria
Hmm, little slow around here of late. Either that or my meds aren't working any more.
Major news is that the Great Experiment will be tried this Christmas . . . a grand moment in history. Taishi will be taking his first flight . . . alone. I could go back and check the records, but it seems to me that the little tyke has probably flown on more airplanes in his tiny ten-year span than I had when his age . . . okay, maybe a few less flights but probably a lot more miles. Back then, to get from Calcutta to California, even in a 707, you had about six stops just to refuel. That's why I can say with all honesty that I've been to Baghdad, Karachi, Dhaka, Istanbul and by gum, Josef Tito's Belgrade -- I just didn't get off the plane at some of them (I was afraid in Baghdad, but only of Ali Baba and his 40 thieves, not Saddam and his 10,000 thieves).
But yes, this will be his first, all alone. It should be a no-brainer. It's from Osaka-Kansai to SFO direct and there will be a lot of meet-and-greeting, but it damn near saves me $4000 if you count hotel, meals and transportation, a very welcome harbinger of the future -- to get to Montreal it will only be for me to fly to Seattle or Vancouver -- Tai-chan will be doing the heavy lifting. As far as how I'm going to fare going all the way to the west coast and come back on the same day -- with stops it's still around a 9 - 10-hour jaunt -- but it saves so much unimaginable time and money.
And it will be the first time I've been back to California in almost three years. I'm sure my family won't be too thrilled to see me but they're slavering to see Tai-chan.
Let's just hope I survive the jaunt on September 10 to Japan and back . . . my sister, who works as a supervisor for Homeland Security, ominously warned me that I'd better get my shit wired tight because there's a small, uh, anniversary right around thereabouts. I am desperately hoping that I will be seeing the backside of Japan for, like, maybe 50 years or so. To tell the truth, I really have no idea what toll these trips to Japan and back for the past 8-odd years have taken on me -- let's just say that it's been a continual circle of Life Interrupted, with plans continually being put on hold and getting wrenched askew just when I've gotten back into something of a routine.
I just don't know how people who work on ships for months away from their homes and family do it -- I'd go berserk. It would be either home and family or ship -- I couldn't do both.
Ships. Now I remember why I'm here tonight. You know by now that I'm pretty much apolitical -- I just tune out when the word "election" comes onto the scene in any format and I couldn't give a flying F who's in power -- liberals, democrats, republican liberals, licentiotarians, totalitarians, whatever. Same guys, different spots.
So you can imagine that I'm the same way about religion -- same guys, same spots. I really couldn't give an f-bomb (see how bizarrely restrained I'm being today, Flock? I guess it's Expletive Deleted Day for some inexplicable reason). But when the twain meet, I get seriously annoyed.
Especially when the hypocrisy level rises above the usual normal -- high. Before I met Brigitte, who's Jewish, I was basically just merely annoyed at both religions/politics -- Judaism, Islam. I just basically thought about it like, why can't you guys both just shut up and get along?
But being aware of Israel, as opposed of just Judaism, and a renewed look at the Holocaust, has led me to very different conclusions. I won't go into it in any great detail, but, as an ad in the NY Times said today (sorry, tried to get a link but you'll find it), where are the flotillas to Syria? And it goes on to list a large number, most of but not all, Islamic-run countries whose populaces live under a litany of horrors ranging from mere starvation to state-sponsored mass murder, torture and imprisonment, and it struck me that where's all the hoopla given to that joke of those lunatic-fringe Flotilla to Gaza people when it comes to, say, Libya?
This time there's no Bush demon, no WMDs, practically no American and absolutely no Israeli involvement, yet where's the indignation? The intervention of oil-rich pseudo-theocracies such as Saudi Arabia, Arab Emirates, Dubai yada yada, coming to the aid of their oppressed brethren? It appears they have little, if anything to say as they build their absurd palaces in the desert, ski resorts in Dubai on the backs of semi-enslaved immigrant workers to do the grunt work -- where are they?
Meanwhile the population of Libya, themselves wholly enslaved for 40 years, fight a desperate battle to wrest power from a cartoon dictator with nothing but extremely low-key NATO intercession, a battle that's been fought and won in Egypt and Tunisia but at great human expense -- but WHERE ARE the marching chanters, the hordes of Israel demonisers that launch mass protests every time Israel feels it necessary to defend itself from brazen attacks from yet another lunatic terrorist group that actually, amazingly, got itself ELECTED (well, Bush did too -- twice, so there's no surprise at the level of human microcephalic tendencies) . . . where ARE these people?? Huh? There's just a VAST SILENCE that comes from the shame of feelings of complicity -- the un-statements from anyone in the Arab world with even a shred of credibility -- and, after doing the adding, that adds up to a big fat ZERO. That's all.
Think about it. When was the last time you read or heard the words "Saudi Arabian advances in science . . ." "Dubai's medical wizardry results in new aids for the developmentally disabled . . . " "Bahrain sends team of volunteer doctors to quake-ravaged . . ."
Huh?
I rest my case. Cases. Both upper and lower.
End note: Saudi Arabians in space? Iranian arctic explorers? Jordanian pioneering robot designers? Saudi Arabian woman ANYTHING? Iranian sustainable energy projects? Iranian ANYTHING?
Hello!!!??? Anybody home???????
Can you say "Fifteenth century?" Better yet, can you say "Bombed back into the fifteenth century, where they all desperately want to be"?
I know you can. I'll even hold your hand while you say it.
Final, really final note: I think this explains it in visual terms so much better than I ever could in writing. Go to this page and look at the map. Then click the magnification tool again and again until you see the tiny blue country buried in a sea of red. That's Israel. This map simply signifies countries that trade. But in reality it means how "developed" countries are. How civilized. You can see at a glance that most of the countries in red are simply organized anarchic groups of humanity that to a larger or lesser degree all share the honor of having populations of humanity who have very much yet the so-called level of "civilization" that the countries in blue do.
But isn't it poignant? That you have to click, click and click again to find this tiny country in a veritable morass of instability to find Israel? What, now you say there's some Wikipedia conspiracy to colour Israel blue? I find it frankly incredible that so few people in such a small country have found the wherewithal not only to survive, mostly as a mass of immigrants that heretofore had nothing in common but a label: "Jew" -- and manage to make it work, but not just work; to survive in an incredibly hostile world, whose nearest neighbours want only to see it erased from the face of the Earth.
I swear, this little picture makes my case so well that I will have no more to say on the subject. For now.
NEXT DAY: Stop the Presses! Somebody IS helping the Libyans!!!!
Major news is that the Great Experiment will be tried this Christmas . . . a grand moment in history. Taishi will be taking his first flight . . . alone. I could go back and check the records, but it seems to me that the little tyke has probably flown on more airplanes in his tiny ten-year span than I had when his age . . . okay, maybe a few less flights but probably a lot more miles. Back then, to get from Calcutta to California, even in a 707, you had about six stops just to refuel. That's why I can say with all honesty that I've been to Baghdad, Karachi, Dhaka, Istanbul and by gum, Josef Tito's Belgrade -- I just didn't get off the plane at some of them (I was afraid in Baghdad, but only of Ali Baba and his 40 thieves, not Saddam and his 10,000 thieves).
But yes, this will be his first, all alone. It should be a no-brainer. It's from Osaka-Kansai to SFO direct and there will be a lot of meet-and-greeting, but it damn near saves me $4000 if you count hotel, meals and transportation, a very welcome harbinger of the future -- to get to Montreal it will only be for me to fly to Seattle or Vancouver -- Tai-chan will be doing the heavy lifting. As far as how I'm going to fare going all the way to the west coast and come back on the same day -- with stops it's still around a 9 - 10-hour jaunt -- but it saves so much unimaginable time and money.
And it will be the first time I've been back to California in almost three years. I'm sure my family won't be too thrilled to see me but they're slavering to see Tai-chan.
Let's just hope I survive the jaunt on September 10 to Japan and back . . . my sister, who works as a supervisor for Homeland Security, ominously warned me that I'd better get my shit wired tight because there's a small, uh, anniversary right around thereabouts. I am desperately hoping that I will be seeing the backside of Japan for, like, maybe 50 years or so. To tell the truth, I really have no idea what toll these trips to Japan and back for the past 8-odd years have taken on me -- let's just say that it's been a continual circle of Life Interrupted, with plans continually being put on hold and getting wrenched askew just when I've gotten back into something of a routine.
I just don't know how people who work on ships for months away from their homes and family do it -- I'd go berserk. It would be either home and family or ship -- I couldn't do both.
Ships. Now I remember why I'm here tonight. You know by now that I'm pretty much apolitical -- I just tune out when the word "election" comes onto the scene in any format and I couldn't give a flying F who's in power -- liberals, democrats, republican liberals, licentiotarians, totalitarians, whatever. Same guys, different spots.
So you can imagine that I'm the same way about religion -- same guys, same spots. I really couldn't give an f-bomb (see how bizarrely restrained I'm being today, Flock? I guess it's Expletive Deleted Day for some inexplicable reason). But when the twain meet, I get seriously annoyed.
Especially when the hypocrisy level rises above the usual normal -- high. Before I met Brigitte, who's Jewish, I was basically just merely annoyed at both religions/politics -- Judaism, Islam. I just basically thought about it like, why can't you guys both just shut up and get along?
But being aware of Israel, as opposed of just Judaism, and a renewed look at the Holocaust, has led me to very different conclusions. I won't go into it in any great detail, but, as an ad in the NY Times said today (sorry, tried to get a link but you'll find it), where are the flotillas to Syria? And it goes on to list a large number, most of but not all, Islamic-run countries whose populaces live under a litany of horrors ranging from mere starvation to state-sponsored mass murder, torture and imprisonment, and it struck me that where's all the hoopla given to that joke of those lunatic-fringe Flotilla to Gaza people when it comes to, say, Libya?
This time there's no Bush demon, no WMDs, practically no American and absolutely no Israeli involvement, yet where's the indignation? The intervention of oil-rich pseudo-theocracies such as Saudi Arabia, Arab Emirates, Dubai yada yada, coming to the aid of their oppressed brethren? It appears they have little, if anything to say as they build their absurd palaces in the desert, ski resorts in Dubai on the backs of semi-enslaved immigrant workers to do the grunt work -- where are they?
Meanwhile the population of Libya, themselves wholly enslaved for 40 years, fight a desperate battle to wrest power from a cartoon dictator with nothing but extremely low-key NATO intercession, a battle that's been fought and won in Egypt and Tunisia but at great human expense -- but WHERE ARE the marching chanters, the hordes of Israel demonisers that launch mass protests every time Israel feels it necessary to defend itself from brazen attacks from yet another lunatic terrorist group that actually, amazingly, got itself ELECTED (well, Bush did too -- twice, so there's no surprise at the level of human microcephalic tendencies) . . . where ARE these people?? Huh? There's just a VAST SILENCE that comes from the shame of feelings of complicity -- the un-statements from anyone in the Arab world with even a shred of credibility -- and, after doing the adding, that adds up to a big fat ZERO. That's all.
Think about it. When was the last time you read or heard the words "Saudi Arabian advances in science . . ." "Dubai's medical wizardry results in new aids for the developmentally disabled . . . " "Bahrain sends team of volunteer doctors to quake-ravaged . . ."
Huh?
I rest my case. Cases. Both upper and lower.
 |
| The Arab world's latest contribution to Humanity |
Hello!!!??? Anybody home???????
Can you say "Fifteenth century?" Better yet, can you say "Bombed back into the fifteenth century, where they all desperately want to be"?
I know you can. I'll even hold your hand while you say it.
Final, really final note: I think this explains it in visual terms so much better than I ever could in writing. Go to this page and look at the map. Then click the magnification tool again and again until you see the tiny blue country buried in a sea of red. That's Israel. This map simply signifies countries that trade. But in reality it means how "developed" countries are. How civilized. You can see at a glance that most of the countries in red are simply organized anarchic groups of humanity that to a larger or lesser degree all share the honor of having populations of humanity who have very much yet the so-called level of "civilization" that the countries in blue do.
But isn't it poignant? That you have to click, click and click again to find this tiny country in a veritable morass of instability to find Israel? What, now you say there's some Wikipedia conspiracy to colour Israel blue? I find it frankly incredible that so few people in such a small country have found the wherewithal not only to survive, mostly as a mass of immigrants that heretofore had nothing in common but a label: "Jew" -- and manage to make it work, but not just work; to survive in an incredibly hostile world, whose nearest neighbours want only to see it erased from the face of the Earth.
I swear, this little picture makes my case so well that I will have no more to say on the subject. For now.
NEXT DAY: Stop the Presses! Somebody IS helping the Libyans!!!!
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Possibilities of Duck and Cover
Did you know, my faithful, endearingly loyal flock, none of whom would nevertheless go down to the corner store and get me dishwashing liquid this morning so I'm having to do it NAKED with no soap at all, (not ME naked, ya stupids, da DISHIS) that there is nothing I could do to protect you from an asteroid about the size of Pessamquot (big) slamming into Earth, eliminating 99.6% of all Terran species extant today and causing an Ice Age that will last 10,000 years?
Now, Flock, do you realise I am 100% not kidding?
Number one, there are only about eight people on earth looking for one of these. Number two, if they somehow saw them, they'd have about 0.08 seconds to warn the cities to all evacuate and take up safe shelter in the surrounding hills. Number three, they'd probably be right under it. It would be the size of Pessamquot, a place I am making up only because you know it is bigger than Manhattan and I didn't want to scare you.
This would make Tsar Bomba look like the effluvium of a water sprite, which is actually very, very small.
Mars, the Moon and all our small accompanying planets in this solar system would cringe, mumbling to themselves "Glad that wasn't me!"
Hey look, if the largest planet in our solar system can suck it up bravely, so can we!
Just lettin' ya know, flock.
Now, Flock, do you realise I am 100% not kidding?
Number one, there are only about eight people on earth looking for one of these. Number two, if they somehow saw them, they'd have about 0.08 seconds to warn the cities to all evacuate and take up safe shelter in the surrounding hills. Number three, they'd probably be right under it. It would be the size of Pessamquot, a place I am making up only because you know it is bigger than Manhattan and I didn't want to scare you.
This would make Tsar Bomba look like the effluvium of a water sprite, which is actually very, very small.
Mars, the Moon and all our small accompanying planets in this solar system would cringe, mumbling to themselves "Glad that wasn't me!"
Hey look, if the largest planet in our solar system can suck it up bravely, so can we!
Just lettin' ya know, flock.
I Won "America Hasn't Got Talent"!
Yes! At this show in Padilla, Washington (no the stage did not blow down silly) I won the entire show. That's me, 18th from the left, after losing to the my second-last winner.
I haven't got talent, all right, I haven't got LOTS of talent! Me getting the award . . . well, the stage blew over and it was cancelled.
Saturday, August 20, 2011
I Want to Organize a Flash Mob with this Blog
Look, if you do it RIGHT we can FREAK 'EM OUT. Let's all assemble at the Second Cup on the corner of Queen Mary and Decelles, like in TWENTY MINUTES.
We'll ALL PRETEND WE DON'T KNOW EACH OTHER, we'll ORDER A LIME FRAPPUCCINO and we'll all sit AT DIFFERENT TABLES FOR EXACTLY 8 MINUTES studying on our laptops.
Then we'll all get up at exactly the same time, say "MERCI" to the baristas in chorus and LEAVE without having touched our Frappuccinos!
Won't that be AWESOME. SEE YOU THERE!!!*
*Then we'll go rob St. Joseph's Oratory
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Cracked
If you grew up during the 70s, as I did, you probably read Mad magazine. Religiously. It was the one that came up with things such as a fake magazine called "Famine Circle" (there used to be a magazine called "Family Circle") which was a parody that focused on starving families in Ethiopia (back then Ethiopians starved instead of Somalis) and it was absolutely hilarious. It inspired me to come up with Somalian Country Cookin' (a long, long time ago, 1996, on the first "blog" I ever did, which was a parody site called The Bastard. I'm really glad I saved that article, because the site has now disappeared from archive.org).
But there was a lesser known competitor to Mad, which I never read because of my loyalty to Mad. It was called "Cracked."
I guess I should have read it, because I stumbled upon its website, Cracked.com, which is hilarious -- and remarkably intelligent. Its readers also seem remarkably intelligent, judging by the comments I read.
Refreshing.
But there was a lesser known competitor to Mad, which I never read because of my loyalty to Mad. It was called "Cracked."
I guess I should have read it, because I stumbled upon its website, Cracked.com, which is hilarious -- and remarkably intelligent. Its readers also seem remarkably intelligent, judging by the comments I read.
Refreshing.
Saturday, August 13, 2011
All Hail the Queen
Allow me to present Queen Lulu, her majesty, presiding over her rabble of miscreants:
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| "Mee . . . . ohhhh!" |
The Things That Have Lasted in my Kitchen, and Advice for the Ordinary Cook
Subhead: Kitchen Gadgets That Have Stood the Test of Time and other musings
I have an aunt that, when she got wind that I like to cook, started buying me all sorts of “gadgets” for cooking at Christmas. I love her dearly, but all too often they’d wind up in the way, way back of the topmost cupboard, used once but never again. The screwiest kind of stuff — garlic crushers made of clear plastic that you were supposed to make the chore of chopping garlic a “One two three!” type of thing — you know, the Slap-chop, the Itsy Bitsy Pressure Cooker and so on. But they didn’t stand the test of time.
Here’s what DID stand the test of time, and stuff I really couldn’t do without. You can probably Google all this stuff, so I won’t post links, but they are, in rough order of importance:
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| Who on Earth comes up with this stuff? A "Garlic Twister???" |
1. A chef’s knife, preferably Japanese. Kasumi is the one I have and it’s going nigh on ten years. I wouldn’t trade it for the world. People who’ve used it have told me they’re scared of it, and indeed, they should be. I could split a blade of grass with it, when it’s coupled with a:
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| I have two, one that goes down to the finest polish available |
3. A sink-wide colander. These are extensible and sit above the drain on the sink so your spaghetti doesn’t get mixed with the Palmolive you used to wash the last dish.
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| Really great for pasta and washing vegetables |
4. A Microplane grater. All others should be lined up against a wall and shot.
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| There is no substitute |
5. A Gel-pro mat. If you spend a lot of time in the kitchen, these mats are a godsend. They’re easily cleanable and really help out in the achy feet department. But beware — they’re expensive.
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| My feet thank me every day |
6. A pot rack. This is to hang all your skillets and frypans. There is no substitute, but this might be your single savviest investment.
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| My actual pot rack. I can't conceive of life without it. |
7. A condiment dispenser. These are those things you see behind the bar, which are filled with olives, onions, cherries etc. These are fantastic for putting a bunch of chopped ingredients, say, for topping a pizza. You won’t be using it every day, but it’s indispensable when you’re making a complex meal for lots of people. You can chop one day and then refrigerate the whole thing so you don’t have to work when the guests arrive the next day.
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| This isn't the one I have, but it's similar. Great for prep for a big project. |
8. A digital oven thermometer. These have a wire that clips onto the oven rack and a digital readout that tells you how completely wrong your oven temperature really is.
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| My actual model. Highly recommended. |
9. A mandoline. No, not the playing kind, although you could entertain the potatoes while they’re boiling with it. Great for delicate slicing jobs. Kiss your fingertips a sweet goodbye.
10. A library full of cookbooks. You can never have too many.
11. Garlic. Triple the amount called for in all recipes. Buy the hardneck kind. They usually only have one huge clove with a stalk.
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| Use occasionally, but amazing. Watch fingertips. |
10. A library full of cookbooks. You can never have too many.
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| Brigitte made me prune it. But it'll be refilled in no time. |
11. Garlic. Triple the amount called for in all recipes. Buy the hardneck kind. They usually only have one huge clove with a stalk.
12. Love and respect for your kitchen — keep it clean at all times, never let things build up, always have clean, inviting workspace.
!3. Last but not least, a TV. I can’t cook without a TV. With both VHS and DVD capabilities. I need that background hum which I listen to or not listen to, as I choose. Music won’t do. Cooking in a kitchen without a TV is like being hung upside down and fed kippers and stale beer.
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| The "brain" of my kitchen |
Congratulations Should be in Order
I've been off Facebook for about two months, now! With not a single urge to go back and see what my 75 "friends" are doing! Because they're doing the same thing they were doing two months ago! In 155 words or less! Posting their irrelevant photographs, complaining about school, raving about some new band, even (true story) attacking their own husbands in public with vitriol such as "He's so sloooow" for everyone and anyone to read!
That is what I'm not missing! And guess what? Facebook is about to become MySpace! Which was preceded by Friendster! (Remember Friendster? Remember Geocities? Remember AOL?) Yes, now Google + is apparently poised to control the social networking world!
And I'll be the first one on the bandwagon not to join!
Through your encouraging comments, Flock, I've decided not only to continue this blog, but try to double the diatribes and invective and hilarity with completely meaningless drivel that only my Flock could appreciate!
I think I'll start today. Yes, today is as good a day as any. Let me just get my dander meter going and I should have some spewdom of loghorrea by the end of the day!
Congratulations are in order. I think I'll have me a beer.
That is what I'm not missing! And guess what? Facebook is about to become MySpace! Which was preceded by Friendster! (Remember Friendster? Remember Geocities? Remember AOL?) Yes, now Google + is apparently poised to control the social networking world!
And I'll be the first one on the bandwagon not to join!
Through your encouraging comments, Flock, I've decided not only to continue this blog, but try to double the diatribes and invective and hilarity with completely meaningless drivel that only my Flock could appreciate!
I think I'll start today. Yes, today is as good a day as any. Let me just get my dander meter going and I should have some spewdom of loghorrea by the end of the day!
Congratulations are in order. I think I'll have me a beer.
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| Not me, but close! |
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Hitler as a Carrot
You know, if I were an enterprising toy manufacturer, I'd make a plastic carrot, say, about 12" high, with a crude caricature of Hitler, say, with a "genuine nylon moustache with real bristles!" and an internal recorder with the actual voice of Hitler spouting off in his most famous speeches to the assembled masses who unfortunately didn't live to be a thousand.
Think about it. There'd be a little black button on the side, and a "carrot arm" -- maybe a leafy twig? would totally randomly give a "Sieg Heil" salute and his eyes would light up at the same time with some internal mechanism . . . this could conceivably go on for hours if you used a 9-volt battery. You could just relax and watch him spout his vitriol in a language you don't understand, coming from a cheap, tinny speaker in the side of the head of the carrot and just . . . enjoy! You could even lay bets on how many times his leafy-twig arm shot up to punctuate some Jüden-untermensch remark. And hey, let's not stop there! How about Goebbels as a turnip? Himmler as a fart? (Hmm, that would definitely be hard to replicate, but it could be done.)
He would of course have his own plastic stand, some cheap, flimsy faux-wood thingy that would emphasize the carroty nothingness and dollar-store ethos he was so emblematic of.
Just a thought. If you're in the dollar store business and think this could work, my email is nick@montrealfood.com.
Think about it. There'd be a little black button on the side, and a "carrot arm" -- maybe a leafy twig? would totally randomly give a "Sieg Heil" salute and his eyes would light up at the same time with some internal mechanism . . . this could conceivably go on for hours if you used a 9-volt battery. You could just relax and watch him spout his vitriol in a language you don't understand, coming from a cheap, tinny speaker in the side of the head of the carrot and just . . . enjoy! You could even lay bets on how many times his leafy-twig arm shot up to punctuate some Jüden-untermensch remark. And hey, let's not stop there! How about Goebbels as a turnip? Himmler as a fart? (Hmm, that would definitely be hard to replicate, but it could be done.)
He would of course have his own plastic stand, some cheap, flimsy faux-wood thingy that would emphasize the carroty nothingness and dollar-store ethos he was so emblematic of.
Just a thought. If you're in the dollar store business and think this could work, my email is nick@montrealfood.com.
Cooker's Block
I've run up against a horrible thing: cooker's block. Okay, it's partially because Brigitte is rejecting my tendency to Xtreme-fat recipes (see scalloped potatoes) but it seems like I've cooked everything in the world twice. Even the old refuge of reverting to simplicity (charcuterie night, for example -- nothing cooked) doesn't seem to hold the satisfaction which I've always derived from cooking a large, complicated meal.
Torpedoes be damned -- just reading the words "scalloped potatoes" and I'm out of here to the store. TONIGHT I WILL HAVE SCALLOPED POTATOES WITH FOUR CHEESES.
Torpedoes be damned -- just reading the words "scalloped potatoes" and I'm out of here to the store. TONIGHT I WILL HAVE SCALLOPED POTATOES WITH FOUR CHEESES.
When Good Cameras Go Bad
My new camera, a Canon Digital Rebel T3, is the best camera I've ever worked with, which is to say that I don't have to have a brain to produce a good photo, but like someone with no brain, I'm constantly asking it to do things even the Hasselblad that Neil Armstrong left on the moon couldn't do.
Like taking unmetred (unanythinged) shots in a dim restaurant with no flash and expecting them to turn out okay.
Luckily, that's when Photoshop steps up to the plate! I really, really don't know what photographers did before Photoshop. The first time I used it was in 1989. I actually had to up the memory of my old Macintosh Plus to 4 MB (4 MB! It cost about $300!) just in order to run it. But what a friend it is.
I mean, what would you do with the photo I took last night of Tai-chan in a Greek restaurant? Taken up the bouzouki? Not necessary! After fiddling with about 55 parameters I managed to get it into a semblance of normality . . . nowhere close to good, mind you, acceptable. What think you?
Like taking unmetred (unanythinged) shots in a dim restaurant with no flash and expecting them to turn out okay.
Luckily, that's when Photoshop steps up to the plate! I really, really don't know what photographers did before Photoshop. The first time I used it was in 1989. I actually had to up the memory of my old Macintosh Plus to 4 MB (4 MB! It cost about $300!) just in order to run it. But what a friend it is.
I mean, what would you do with the photo I took last night of Tai-chan in a Greek restaurant? Taken up the bouzouki? Not necessary! After fiddling with about 55 parameters I managed to get it into a semblance of normality . . . nowhere close to good, mind you, acceptable. What think you?
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| How'd do you like that Christmas glow? |
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| A miracle, neh? Such a good-looking subject doesn't hurt |
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Packing it In
I'm thinking about packing this blog in. Facebook and Skype hold all the breathless masses in thrall and a bit of scribbling here and there about affairs that concern pretty much no one but myself seem awkwardly out of date.
All hail the blog! All mourn its demise.
All hail the blog! All mourn its demise.