One of the people in this video has finally figured out a foolproof formula for telling who’s really responsible for the upheaval in Iraq.
And the makers of the above video also seem to have figured out one way to increase their chances of finding stupid Americans to bungle current events questions: film in a Wal-Mart parking lot.
(Stumbled upon via News Hounds)
I’ve been thinking of the story of Teri Horton, who bought what may be a Jackson Pollock painting for five bucks at a thrift store.
If you’re not the biggest fan of Pollock or abstract expressionism, it may be useful to remember that the 2006 sale of Pollock’s “No. 5” fetched $140 million. That would be the highest price of any painting in history. Imagine picking up a painting worth even a fraction of that price for just a few dollars at the local Salvation Army.
I’m fairly certain that I’m not alone in my ignorance of, or lack of appreciation for, the work of Jackson Pollock. I bet most ordinary folks couldn’t identify one of his paintings to save their lives. For some people, identifying other forms of beauty can be equally mystifying. [Read more →]
Dave Luna compiled a great driving montage based on over 15,000 images taken minute-by-minute during a road trip. Not to detract from the video, but I really dig the music (“Hayling” from FC Kahuna, which I just downloaded).
Speaking of music, I was a little freaked out yesterday when some girl named April apparently hijacked Dave’s site.
I’ve been on Twitter, and I just found out I have three followers – does that make me some kind of minor prophet?
At first I thought I might use Twitter to post haiku. Given the space constraints (160 characters or less per post), it seemed a perfect idea. Then I realized there’s no way to impose my own line breaks. Good, bad or indifferent, I have to blame Frank for the bad influence, and Scott for making me wish I was a true twitterholic.
Judge Rufus Peckham has one detail on the Libby verdict most news sources seem to be missing.
My brother-in-law sent me this YouTube link the other day. Click here for a video of the Lego Trebuchet.
Yesterday I was watching testimony regarding troop levels and strategies in Iraq, which was about as interesting as a budget hearing (something else I’ve been known to sit through on occasion).
I knew it was time to turn it off when my mind started playing tricks with the subtitles at the bottom of the screen.
What if our foreign policy was to replace all rogue regimes with rouge regimes?
(For a penny minted in 1916)
I wonder how many hands you had to pass through to get to mine.
How many coin purses,
give-a-penny-take-a-penny trays,
cash register tills,
how many coin rolls?
I wonder about the years you’ve seen,
and the places you’ve been.
What are the chances you’ve spent
your whole existence
in this city,
this state or
even this country?
Has your feathered tail traveled overseas
in the pocket of a tourist or a soldier
off to any of the wars
(or possibly all of them) since Wilson presided?
Might you have been carried by James Dean
as a child walking to the store
to buy some penny candy?
Might you have been given as a reward
to a child, or to generations of children?
How many people with no other discernible connection
could be linked simply by their possession of you?
(Or, considering how many of your carriers you’ve likely outlived,
perhaps they’re linked by your possession of them.)
Whose skin have you touched?
What purchases have you helped afford?
What adventures must you have endured
to attain such a weathered face?
How did you bear seeing your utility dry
to the point that a child can’t even use you
to ransom candy from a penny vendor anymore?
Your once proud copper image, now reduced to
biding time in ash trays and couch cushions
until someone seeks you in desperation
(or until you are summoned by the vacuum cleaner).
What are the chances you’d not have found yourself
in the bottom of a river or lake or ocean, and if you have,
what would be the chances you’d find your way back?
How is it you’ve escaped the fate of your poor cousins
mutilated by the souvenir penny grinders?
How many of your brethren born the same year
are liable to thrive (or even exist) these years later?
Is it accomplishment or sorrow, seniority or old age,
you feel as you see all the newer, shinier models
rolling out every year.
And as you hear of other old coins kept by collectors,
valued at thousands of times their face,
do you find yourself green with envy (or just corrosion)?
Or perhaps you just soldier on,
resigned to serve whatever purpose you can,
however seemingly small,
satisfied,
knowing
you’ll probably outlast us all.
Jess tagged me a couple days back, and I’ve been dragging on getting this particular post up and running, but I am getting around to it, finally. I won’t be tagging anyone, but please feel free to visit Jess or Morgen (the originator), who both have lists of folks who’ve responded to the following queries:
1. What’s the scariest movie you’ve ever seen?
If I read this question as “which movie freaked you out to the point that when you got home the night you first saw it, you cringed with every rustling leave or snapping twig as you walked from your car to the front door?” – the answer is The Blair Witch Project.
2. What was your favorite Halloween Costume from childhood?
One year I mocked up a policeman’s uniform (I think I was ten or younger, and yes, I wanted to be a cop when I grew up). It probably wasn’t very convincing, but I think most people at least recognized what it was supposed to be.
3. If you had an unlimited budget, what would your Fantasy Costume be for this Halloween?
Regardless of budget, I’d have to say I was always a little jealous of my sister the year she dressed up as a can of cola – a costume my father made for her out of an old empty caustic soda drum, painted similar to the outside of a Coke can with arm and head holes and the bottom removed so she could walk. I wanted that one badly.
4. When was the last time you went Trick or Treating?
I think when I was eleven, but maybe I was ten. Not entirely sure.
5. What’s your favorite Halloween Candy?
Surprisingly, it was not Candy Corn. To this day, I’m still partial toward the homemade caramel apple. Part of the allure is that snacks like that just aren’t given out on Halloween anymore; the other part of the allure is the fact that, man, I love good caramel apples!
6. Tell us about a scary nightmare you had.
I had a dream once where I woke up with something holding me down in my bed (not a person or discernible form, but more like the the bed had its own gravitational pull) and I was staring up from the bed as a mixture of lights and shadows from outside the window were playing on the ceiling, making different images appear. Then the images stopped changing so much and took on the features of a menacing face that appeared to be pulling away from the ceiling and toward me as I couldn’t move.
I could have sworn I was awake while I was experiencing this, more than in any other dream I’d had. The only discrepancy between the dream and when I awoke was that my bed had just been repositioned in the room a week before and it had been in the old position in my dream.
7. What is your Supernatural Fear?
I don’t know that I have a legitimate supernatural fear.
8. What is your Creepy-Crawly Fear?
I’m not sure I have a good answer for this one, either, but sometimes when I’m half-asleep, I feel like something’s moving on my leg, like a bug or something of that nature. At this point I might experience an brief instant of semi-cognizant panic. Which is weird because when I’m coherent, I don’t really have much of a fear of bugs, spiders, or the like. When I wake, I usually find it’s just a strange reaction to an innocent breeze from the window or a fan.
9. Tell us about a time when you saw a ghost, or heard something go bump in the night.
I can’t recall any times when I really thought that was happening, unless you count the nightmare story from #6.
10. Would you ever stay in a real Haunted House overnight?
Probably. I think curiosity would get the better of me on that one.
11. Are you a traditionalist (just a face) Jack O’Lantern Carver, or do you get really creative with your pumpkins?
I haven’t carved a Jack O’Lantern in many full moons, but when I have, I’m pretty straightforward. I’ve always thought the best effect of a carved pumpkin was that of a sinister looking face.
12. How much do you decorate your home for Halloween?
Can’t say that I do – but then, I’m usually working while it’s going on.
13. What do you want on your Tombstone?
This one sounds a little too big for a simple Halloween meme, which I guess is why so many other have resorted to answers inspired by the old Tombstone Pizza commercials. And I’m not a vampire like Jessica, so the immortality thing doesn’t work for me. Hmmm… how about, “Here lies Howard; he was smart enough to fear the underworld, just not smart enough to let his fears stop him.”
Yeah, I know. It’s weak.
First, an article on how to be an expert on anything, by the only man who would know. (via Cziltang)
Second, the “On Notice Board” generator. (via Matt)
I won’t have time to get to carried away today, but tomorrow may be a different story.
(Trivial Update: My “On Notice Board” lingers below the break.) [Read more →]
Yesterday, I finally went back to the Hair Cuttery to shear my head again. Well, I actually went back on Friday afternoon, but about five minutes after I signed in for a haircut (and, mercifully, prior to having half my head shorn by electric clippers), the power went out. I had places to be, so I left, resigned to come back another time.
As fate would have it, Sunday afternoon was as good a time as any, so that’s when I returned for my haircut. I was greeted by a pleasant, mature woman who led me back to her chair. She proceeded to chop away. About halfway through, I noticed a name tag on the shelf in front of me. I looked in the mirror at my haircutter, noticing she was without her name tag. I asked her if that was her name tag. She replied that it was.
The name on the tag? Any guesses?
If the gist of this story is accurate, we’re closer than I thought we were:
“You can’t be in here protesting,” officer Adkins said, pointing to my Veterans For Peace shirt.
“Well, I’m not protesting, I’m having a cup of coffee,” I returned, thinking that logic would convince Adkins to go back to his earlier duties of guarding against serious terrorists.
Flipping his badge open, he said, “No, not with that shirt. You’re protesting and you have to go.”
… I’m sure I could go back to officers Adkins’ and Ousleys’ fiefdom with a shirt that said, “Nuke all the hajis,” or “Show us your tits,” or any number of truly obscene things and no one would care. Just so it’s not “that shirt” again. (full text)
(via Ales Rarus and Res Ipsa Loquitur)
Apparently Rush Limbaugh is having prescription problems again, this time regarding the possession of a certain performance enhancer not specifically marked for his use. A snippet from the article:
“We believe there may be a second degree misdemeanor violation, which is possession of certain drugs without a prescription, because the bottle does not have his name on it,” Miller said.
A doctor had prescribed the drug, but it was “labeled as being issued to the physician rather than Mr. Limbaugh for privacy purposes,” Roy Black, Limbaugh’s attorney, said in a statement.
Privacy, huh – so how’d that work out?
(via Steve Silver, who wonders whether this violates Rush’s plea agreement.)
I got a Left-Handers Calender for Christmas last year which I’ve been using more as the year goes on. It’s a fountain of lefty trivia, with a snippet of southpaw-related info facing each week’s calendar page, as well as notations on each date coinciding with the birthday of a noteworthy lefty. For instance, this week’s birthdays were:
In contemplating why lefties like me feel compelled to cling to these mostly meaningless bits of data, I can only imagine the tendency might have been born of a sense of persecution.
I’m used to being singled out, even by my own family, for my peculiarity; only my father and I share the trait, and he was essentially forced to write righty as a child (back when schools still frowned on such incarnations of evil). Bless him though, because he continued to nurture his gift while the teachers weren’t looking.
Apparently, there is such a thing as a blog ring for left-handed folks, which I find heartening for some reason. I may have to join now. I’m sure it’s got to do with the compulsive reaction I always have when I first notice someone else using the left hand – almost giddy, really, and I can’t quite rationalize it.
I wrote about the recognition factor previously. I asked readers to tell me if they were lefty, but only two commenters turned up as lefties (well, two commenters and one commenter’s wife). Which is no disrespect, because the two lefty respondents were definitely worthy of the affliction, and both of them made just a little more sense to me once I found out.
Of course, I’ve got a few more readers now, so maybe I should cast the net again – see what I can catch. Anyone else?
