There's an unfortunate tendency on the internet lately.*
*To be fair, there's an argument to be made that the internet is made up entirely of unfortunate tendencies, but this one stands out at the moment.
I refer of course to the unfortunate groundswell of vaguely interesting ideas being described as 'Life Hacks'
At this point any even moderately interesting new use of... let's say a dust pan for examples' sake... is getting tossed out in some endless parade of clickbait articles titled something along the lines of 'Genius Life Hacks That Will CHANGE YOUR WORLD!'
At first this was moderately amusing turn of phrase, but at this point one thing needs to be made abundantly clear to the earnest young bloggers out there...
YOU ARE NOT 'HACKING'. YOU HAVE NOT MAGICALLY UNRAVELED THE BASE CODE OF THE UNIVERSE IN ORDER TO RE-WRITE IT YOUR WHIM. YOU STUMBLED ON A WAY TO HELP LADIES PEE STANDING UP.
YOU ARE NOT MAGIC NOW.
That needed to be said.
The 42nd Vizsla - Because there were already 41 Vizslas registered here.
Showing posts with label Vizsla = Knowledge. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Vizsla = Knowledge. Show all posts
Saturday, December 5, 2015
Saturday, January 17, 2015
Be Sexier Now!
Hello Gentlemen, I'm here to announce an incredible opportunity for you
We here at the Vizsla have done the research for you, and thoughtfully provide this handy chart of things that you can do right now to make yourself more sexually attractive. Keep in mind these findings are all supported by actual statistics, and in no way are just pulled out of anyone's butt. No sir.
BATHE - 13.6% Sexier
It's true. It urns out that research supports that not looking filthy and smelling like the inside of a jockstrap actually increases your sexual desirability.*
*With the exception of a 2.5% swing percentage of the population who are into that sort of thing. It's not about judging.
LEARNING TO PLAY THE BANJO - 7.2% Sexier
Data clearly proves that a man who can play the Banjo is 7.2% sexier than lesser men. This is science talking, people. Simply holding a Banjo will increase a man's sexiness by 2.8%. This bump disappears however if, upon being asked to play the aforementioned Banjo, said man simply breaks down into tears* and runs away.
*With the exception of a 2.5% swing percentage of the population who are into that sort of thing. It's not about judging.
KNOWING A LOT ABOUT DOCTOR WHO - 4.1% Sexier.
This is science talking, people. Science.
LIFTING WEIGHTS A LOT AND GETTING REALLY BUFF - .6% Sexier
See. Just .6%. Now, doesn't that justify your decision in middle school to stay home reading comic books instead of joining the football team? You bet your ass it does. Hey, Mr. 1% Body fat - Do you have a complete near-mint run of Sandman issues 1-75? No. No, I didn't think so.
RESCUING A DROWNING BEAR - 46% Sexier.
First, Check out this news item. Now, empirically if we look at Adam we can see - objectively- that he isn't particularly attractive, per-se. HOWEVER.... THE MAN IS RESCUE SWIMMING A FREAKING 400 LB BLACK BEAR OUT OF DANGER.
Adam clearly wins. I'm just going under the assumption that there was a violent scrum of folk waiting to pleasure him the second he got back onto the beach, and that he therefore joins Canadian Astronaut Chris Hadfield and Curator of Mammals Kristofer Helgen in the 'Tonight, When You Make Love to Your Woman, She Will Be Thinking of Me' club*
*Would it be wrong to get that printed on a T-shirt and send one to each of the three Gentlemen? Would anyone else buy one?
Thanks you. We hope this information has been helpful.
We here at the Vizsla have done the research for you, and thoughtfully provide this handy chart of things that you can do right now to make yourself more sexually attractive. Keep in mind these findings are all supported by actual statistics, and in no way are just pulled out of anyone's butt. No sir.
BATHE - 13.6% Sexier
It's true. It urns out that research supports that not looking filthy and smelling like the inside of a jockstrap actually increases your sexual desirability.*
*With the exception of a 2.5% swing percentage of the population who are into that sort of thing. It's not about judging.
LEARNING TO PLAY THE BANJO - 7.2% Sexier
Data clearly proves that a man who can play the Banjo is 7.2% sexier than lesser men. This is science talking, people. Simply holding a Banjo will increase a man's sexiness by 2.8%. This bump disappears however if, upon being asked to play the aforementioned Banjo, said man simply breaks down into tears* and runs away.
*With the exception of a 2.5% swing percentage of the population who are into that sort of thing. It's not about judging.
KNOWING A LOT ABOUT DOCTOR WHO - 4.1% Sexier.
This is science talking, people. Science.
LIFTING WEIGHTS A LOT AND GETTING REALLY BUFF - .6% Sexier
See. Just .6%. Now, doesn't that justify your decision in middle school to stay home reading comic books instead of joining the football team? You bet your ass it does. Hey, Mr. 1% Body fat - Do you have a complete near-mint run of Sandman issues 1-75? No. No, I didn't think so.
RESCUING A DROWNING BEAR - 46% Sexier.
First, Check out this news item. Now, empirically if we look at Adam we can see - objectively- that he isn't particularly attractive, per-se. HOWEVER.... THE MAN IS RESCUE SWIMMING A FREAKING 400 LB BLACK BEAR OUT OF DANGER.
Adam clearly wins. I'm just going under the assumption that there was a violent scrum of folk waiting to pleasure him the second he got back onto the beach, and that he therefore joins Canadian Astronaut Chris Hadfield and Curator of Mammals Kristofer Helgen in the 'Tonight, When You Make Love to Your Woman, She Will Be Thinking of Me' club*
*Would it be wrong to get that printed on a T-shirt and send one to each of the three Gentlemen? Would anyone else buy one?
Thanks you. We hope this information has been helpful.
Thursday, January 1, 2015
DIY Cop Porn
In case you've been living in a yurt for the last year or so, in the US we've been having what could be described as a 'spirited' national discussion about the Police.
This is nothing new, and is a problem almost all societies have had to deal with.
The quote Quis custodiet ipsos custodes? dates back to the poet Juvenal in the 1st century and roughly translates to 'Who Watches the Watchmen'*
*He was actually more concerned with making sure that his wife wasn't banging the guy who's job it was to make sure his wife wasn't banging anyone, but the point still stands. Plus he indirectly gave us Alan Moore's The Watchmen, so he's more than earned the shout out.
In any case, one of the solutions proposed in the US to address the problem is the usage of bodycams; which police officers can wear and film everything they do so that later on the public can be shown the footage so that they can see that yes, the good citizen in question was in fact actually attacking the officer at the time and has only themselves to blame for getting shot.*
*I might be revealing my personal bias on a couple of national cases there...
This is all well and good in theory, and most of the cops I know are down with the idea. There are however a couple of bugs to be worked out of the system.
Namely, one particular case this past summer highlighted a giant, throbbing* hitch in the system. Namely, the officer in question accidentally turned his camera on before going to use the bathroom and then happened to catch a suspect immediately afterward.**
*If the officer in question is to be believed.
**I think it was Ohio, Urination, and Assault. In that order. Not 100% certain on the first and last items.
Yes. The bodycam footage consisted of a minute or so of the camera watching the 'little officer' while he relieved himself, before moving on to show the arrest.
The Good Citizen's lawyer made the argument that in order to present the evidence they would have to show the entire footage in a public court in front of a jury, as the law prohibited any editing of the bodycam footage.
Two things are obvious here.
First - The defense lawyer was clearly just trying to use the threat of broadcasting 'Wang-cam' to anyone who cared to see it in the hope that the officer would be too embarrassed and the case would get dropped.
Second - The correct response from the officer should clearly have been, 'Go for it. Here's the address where the jury can send me thank-you notes.'
Sadly I am unable to tell you what the ultimate outcome of the whole affair was, as I've been unable to find any information about it online.
On the plus side, we can add 'Cop accidentally films himself Urinating' to the list of things in my search history that are going to raise an eyebrow somewhere at some point.
But the larger point here - isn't all of that footage available to the public under the freedom of information act?
And if so, wouldn't the cagey move be for the Police Department to just accept that and make it work for them? They could start cross-referencing all the footage under things like 'Misdemeanor Theft - 8"- Veiny and Uncut.
With the money from ads on the downloads they'd never have to worry about funding again.
I'm just saying.
This is nothing new, and is a problem almost all societies have had to deal with.
- Pretentious reference alert coming -
*He was actually more concerned with making sure that his wife wasn't banging the guy who's job it was to make sure his wife wasn't banging anyone, but the point still stands. Plus he indirectly gave us Alan Moore's The Watchmen, so he's more than earned the shout out.
-Pretentious moment over. Please resume normal service -
In any case, one of the solutions proposed in the US to address the problem is the usage of bodycams; which police officers can wear and film everything they do so that later on the public can be shown the footage so that they can see that yes, the good citizen in question was in fact actually attacking the officer at the time and has only themselves to blame for getting shot.*
*I might be revealing my personal bias on a couple of national cases there...
This is all well and good in theory, and most of the cops I know are down with the idea. There are however a couple of bugs to be worked out of the system.
Namely, one particular case this past summer highlighted a giant, throbbing* hitch in the system. Namely, the officer in question accidentally turned his camera on before going to use the bathroom and then happened to catch a suspect immediately afterward.**
*If the officer in question is to be believed.
**I think it was Ohio, Urination, and Assault. In that order. Not 100% certain on the first and last items.
Yes. The bodycam footage consisted of a minute or so of the camera watching the 'little officer' while he relieved himself, before moving on to show the arrest.
The Good Citizen's lawyer made the argument that in order to present the evidence they would have to show the entire footage in a public court in front of a jury, as the law prohibited any editing of the bodycam footage.
Two things are obvious here.
First - The defense lawyer was clearly just trying to use the threat of broadcasting 'Wang-cam' to anyone who cared to see it in the hope that the officer would be too embarrassed and the case would get dropped.
Second - The correct response from the officer should clearly have been, 'Go for it. Here's the address where the jury can send me thank-you notes.'
Sadly I am unable to tell you what the ultimate outcome of the whole affair was, as I've been unable to find any information about it online.
On the plus side, we can add 'Cop accidentally films himself Urinating' to the list of things in my search history that are going to raise an eyebrow somewhere at some point.
But the larger point here - isn't all of that footage available to the public under the freedom of information act?
And if so, wouldn't the cagey move be for the Police Department to just accept that and make it work for them? They could start cross-referencing all the footage under things like 'Misdemeanor Theft - 8"- Veiny and Uncut.
With the money from ads on the downloads they'd never have to worry about funding again.
I'm just saying.
Friday, December 12, 2014
#NoMoreFreakingGates
A little while ago our little town was embroiled in a frankly ridiculous bit of scandal that actually made it so far as getting a segment on The Daily Show.
I speak of course... of #pointergate
The quick backstory (as that scandal itself isn't really what I'm here to talk about today)-
I speak of course... of #pointergate
The quick backstory (as that scandal itself isn't really what I'm here to talk about today)-
Once upon a time
There was a good and beautiful (probably) new Mayor of The City
For reasons that aren't particularly important here
she ran afoul of Mean Mr. Police Union Steward*
One day, while the Mayor was skipping through a meadow
looking for photo ops at get out the vote events
prior to the midterm elections
She came across Mr. African-American-Vote-Turnout-Volunteer
(Who admittedly has a bit of a checkered past,
but seems to be trying to turn his life around)
This!
This was the photo op our good and beautiful
(probably) mayor was looking for!
And so they had their picture taken,
pointing at each other in that cheesy
'Hey, we're having a picture taken together!' way
Mean Mr. Police Steward saw this
and knew that this was his opportunity
So he used his magic mirror and called his best friend
Mr. Local News Station So Pathetically Stupid
That It Defies Belief
and said to him, 'Look!'
Our new Mayor makes the dreaded 'Gang Sign'
to a man clearly guilty of being outdoors while not white.
"Spread the news of the vile 'Gang Sign' so that all can see
that New Mayor supports Gangs
and not The Good and Beautiful (occasionally) Mr. Police Department
And so Mr. Local News Station spread the word far and wide,
showing all the dreaded 'Gang Sign'
And all who saw the photo looked at it for a moment an said,
"Um... they're just pointing at each other.
I have pictures of me doing that with my grandmother..."
And Mr. News Station took to the air and said,
"Nu-uh. Totes Gang Sign.
Plus, we never said it was 'gang sign',
we only said Mr. Police Department said that
and besides it's totes not racist
because we're just reporting and look -
totes Gang Sign!"
The Mr. News Station took to the air and said that 8 more times,
because Mr. News Station is a Fucking Idiot.
And the whole thing became known as 'Pointergate' because we as a society are also kind of stupid and think that just adding the suffix 'Gate' on the end of anything makes it mean 'scandal'
It doesn't.
'Watergate' was called 'Watergate' because that's the name of the Freaking Hotel, not because it was a scandal about 'Water' in some way. If you give a quick glance to the wikipedia page dedicated to the subject it's readily apparent how completely out of control the whole thing has gotten.**
Come up with your own name for new scandals people. It's about standards
*Now, normally I am 100% pro-Cop. Make no mistake about that. But in this circumstance it seems pretty clear that the Union Steward was attempting to use a deliberately misleading smear campaign for political points and that is not OK. Cops are held to higher standard because they are supposed to be better than that.
**And don't even get me started on the little sub-human trash perpetuating Gamergate. Mostly because I'm afraid of what they might do to my online information. There is, thankfully, very little they could do to my Credit Score that I haven't already done myself. Which in this case I'm going to call a win.
Thursday, October 2, 2014
Hey, Ancient Greeks, Who's the Real Victim Here
I was thinking the other day about Prometheus.*
*The Greek Legendary figure, not the vaguely disappointing movie that sadly failed to have proper Aliens in it.
For those who were never deeply unpopular 12 year old boys - and feel free to be all smug about it now - Prometheus was a Titan.*
*The superhuman creatures who came before the Greek gods, not the vaguely disappointing football team from Tennessee.**
**That's American Football - Which again can be loosely described to the rest of the world as playing rugby while dressed up as a robot.
The main crux of the myth of Prometheus is that he stole fire from the Gods and gave it to Mankind, thus enabling us to become an independent thinking species. It's actually pretty analogous to the myth of the Garden of Eden, in that in both cases the God in question wanted to keep mankind ignorant for their own good and someone else intervened, gave mankind knowledge, and was punished for it. This is an interesting statement on the long held view in some religious circles that all knowledge is inherently dangerous and therefore evil. See, it didn't just start with the FOX network.
Where was I...
Oh. Right. Punishment.
So, Prometheus did us a solid by giving us the gift of Fire, and for doing so he was punished by the Gods. Specifically, he was chained to a mountain in the Caucuses and every morning an Eagle* flew in and tore out his liver and ate it. Every night his liver grew back. Lather, Rinse, Repeat.
*His name was Ethon, apparently
Now, the immediate response to this is of course - Ow. That sounds painful. Both the tearing out AND regrowing.
But I think that both we and the Greeks are overlooking the real victim here.
The real victim is clearly Ethon.
Think of the poor guy. Every single day he gets up, spreads his wings, maybe has a nice cup of eagle coffee and says to himself, 'Self, today's going to be an awesome* day.' Then he flies out over the Caucuses, glorifying in the morning sun. He swoops. He soars. He... looks down and sees Prometheus. Again.
*Yes, Ethon is voiced by Chris Pratt in my mind.
Here's a rundown of Ethon's internal monologue each morning.
*The Greek Legendary figure, not the vaguely disappointing movie that sadly failed to have proper Aliens in it.
For those who were never deeply unpopular 12 year old boys - and feel free to be all smug about it now - Prometheus was a Titan.*
*The superhuman creatures who came before the Greek gods, not the vaguely disappointing football team from Tennessee.**
**That's American Football - Which again can be loosely described to the rest of the world as playing rugby while dressed up as a robot.
The main crux of the myth of Prometheus is that he stole fire from the Gods and gave it to Mankind, thus enabling us to become an independent thinking species. It's actually pretty analogous to the myth of the Garden of Eden, in that in both cases the God in question wanted to keep mankind ignorant for their own good and someone else intervened, gave mankind knowledge, and was punished for it. This is an interesting statement on the long held view in some religious circles that all knowledge is inherently dangerous and therefore evil. See, it didn't just start with the FOX network.
Where was I...
Oh. Right. Punishment.
So, Prometheus did us a solid by giving us the gift of Fire, and for doing so he was punished by the Gods. Specifically, he was chained to a mountain in the Caucuses and every morning an Eagle* flew in and tore out his liver and ate it. Every night his liver grew back. Lather, Rinse, Repeat.
*His name was Ethon, apparently
Now, the immediate response to this is of course - Ow. That sounds painful. Both the tearing out AND regrowing.
But I think that both we and the Greeks are overlooking the real victim here.
The real victim is clearly Ethon.
Think of the poor guy. Every single day he gets up, spreads his wings, maybe has a nice cup of eagle coffee and says to himself, 'Self, today's going to be an awesome* day.' Then he flies out over the Caucuses, glorifying in the morning sun. He swoops. He soars. He... looks down and sees Prometheus. Again.
*Yes, Ethon is voiced by Chris Pratt in my mind.
Here's a rundown of Ethon's internal monologue each morning.
ETHON
Self, Today's going to be an awesome day!
Man. What a great nights sleep. I feel like a million bucks!
I sure do love the way the morning sun shines on my Aerie!
What a great morning. Everything is awesome!
Hey, I should totally put that Tegan and Sarah song on my iPod...
Man, it feels awesome to fly through these beautiful mountains
I wonder if there are salmon in this part of the world?
I'd love a salmon. That sounds yummy.
Hey, what's that down there on that roc...
Oh you have GOT to by F**KING kidding me.
AGAIN?????
How many times??? How many???
No. I'm just not doing it.
F*** You, rock guy, and F*** your liver too.
Your...delicious...liver...
NO. No, I'm just not going to do it.
Maybe one more pass over that valley...
You know... Just to make sure he's still there...
Yup... still there....
Jesus H. Not Going To Be Born For 4 Thousand Years Christ.
Fine.
LAST TIME!
Over and over again. Every day. You think your job is repetitive, think of poor Ethon.
Then, a bit later on, Hercules rescued Prometheus. You know how he did it?
HE FREAKIN' KILLED ETHON, THAT'S HOW!
It could not be clearer who the real victim is in this story, and it ain't the guy chained to the rock who was perfectly aware of the consequences of his actions, oh no.
We're sorry Ethon.
We're so sorry.
Sunday, September 14, 2014
Vizlsa Flashback - An Important Foreword, followed by some Stuff About Bananas
First published on 9-11-13, hence all the references to the date. I reprint it here today for two reasons -
1. Sunday is the day I do reprints of earlier columns
2. I'm mildly concerned that the fact that I went ahead with my usual frivolity on 9-11 this week might have been misconstrued as being disrespectful, and I already explained my reasoning for doing so last year
so...
I gave a lot of thought, quite honestly, to not publishing a column today, the date being what it is.
Let me explain why.
The primary method of spreading the word about the doggerel I post here is via Facebook (and a bit through my side gig at WhatCulture. My friends of Facebook fall broadly (with a few exceptions) into one of two camps. Firefighters or Improvisational Comedians.
A lot of people blogging tend to take days such as this as an opportunity to discuss the event in some way, or to share their own experiences, or to - generally speaking - get real about the whole issue. And that's great. There's a lot of good stuff out there along those lines.
But that is not what I do. The closest I ever have or ever will (probably) get to that sort of thing is the time I pretended to think that 90s icon Morrissey was the elected leader of Egypt. (And to be honest, in hindsight even that has felt too close to places I don't want to go)
The other option - equally valid - is to simply suspend business on the day in question as a gesture of remembrance and respect. That's the way I was seriously considering going. I can easily see how just caring on with frivolous crap could be construed as disrespectful to a significant percentage of people.
But here's the thing- and this is just my personal opinion here - I really think that when someone gives their life so that you can continue living yours, the most important thing that you can do to respect that is to actually continue living yours.
So that's the way I ultimately came down on the issue. Hence the following frivolity about Bananas. I totally understand if you choose to come back to it another day or even skip it entirely. This is me carrying on with doing what I do as my way of saying thank you to the people who sacrificed so that I would be able to do.
Foreword over
Last night I woke up in the middle of the night with that cramp thing that occasionally happens where your calf muscle suddenly and without warning tears itself off of your leg and runs screeching around the room.
Me being me, I immediately began listing in my head the things that I could have done to prevent this, thus managing to make this a scathing indictment of my character flaws as opposed to merely a deficiency of water or Potassium.
The easiest thing to do to ward these sorts of things off, or so I have been told, is to eat more bananas or drink less wine. And since the latter is clearly crazy talk, let's take this moment to celebrate our bananas.
Um... that didn't come out exactly right...
- Bumping up your Potassium level.
Potassium (number 19 on the periodic table with the Atomic Symbol K (for which you can blame the Romans. Sort of) is an important element in our physiology as it assists in the transmission of signals through the nervous system. Not having enough of it can cause all sorts of health problems. Of course, having way too much of it can kill you, so maybe stop after the first couple bananas
- Replacing futuristic weapons factories
I like Bananas. Bananas are good.
- Sex Ed.
Seriously, this is a time honored classic when it comes to teaching your young man the correct way to put on a prophylactic. You can also use a cucumber, but only if you want to give your young man lifelong feelings of inadequacy.
- Comic pratfalls.
It's a classic for a reason, people.
1. Sunday is the day I do reprints of earlier columns
2. I'm mildly concerned that the fact that I went ahead with my usual frivolity on 9-11 this week might have been misconstrued as being disrespectful, and I already explained my reasoning for doing so last year
so...
First the Foreword (by definition)
I gave a lot of thought, quite honestly, to not publishing a column today, the date being what it is.
Let me explain why.
The primary method of spreading the word about the doggerel I post here is via Facebook (and a bit through my side gig at WhatCulture. My friends of Facebook fall broadly (with a few exceptions) into one of two camps. Firefighters or Improvisational Comedians.
A lot of people blogging tend to take days such as this as an opportunity to discuss the event in some way, or to share their own experiences, or to - generally speaking - get real about the whole issue. And that's great. There's a lot of good stuff out there along those lines.
But that is not what I do. The closest I ever have or ever will (probably) get to that sort of thing is the time I pretended to think that 90s icon Morrissey was the elected leader of Egypt. (And to be honest, in hindsight even that has felt too close to places I don't want to go)
The other option - equally valid - is to simply suspend business on the day in question as a gesture of remembrance and respect. That's the way I was seriously considering going. I can easily see how just caring on with frivolous crap could be construed as disrespectful to a significant percentage of people.
But here's the thing- and this is just my personal opinion here - I really think that when someone gives their life so that you can continue living yours, the most important thing that you can do to respect that is to actually continue living yours.
So that's the way I ultimately came down on the issue. Hence the following frivolity about Bananas. I totally understand if you choose to come back to it another day or even skip it entirely. This is me carrying on with doing what I do as my way of saying thank you to the people who sacrificed so that I would be able to do.
Foreword over
Some Stuff About Bananas
Last night I woke up in the middle of the night with that cramp thing that occasionally happens where your calf muscle suddenly and without warning tears itself off of your leg and runs screeching around the room.
Me being me, I immediately began listing in my head the things that I could have done to prevent this, thus managing to make this a scathing indictment of my character flaws as opposed to merely a deficiency of water or Potassium.
The easiest thing to do to ward these sorts of things off, or so I have been told, is to eat more bananas or drink less wine. And since the latter is clearly crazy talk, let's take this moment to celebrate our bananas.
Um... that didn't come out exactly right...
Some Things That Bananas are good for:
- Bumping up your Potassium level.
Potassium (number 19 on the periodic table with the Atomic Symbol K (for which you can blame the Romans. Sort of) is an important element in our physiology as it assists in the transmission of signals through the nervous system. Not having enough of it can cause all sorts of health problems. Of course, having way too much of it can kill you, so maybe stop after the first couple bananas
- Replacing futuristic weapons factories
I like Bananas. Bananas are good.
- Sex Ed.
Seriously, this is a time honored classic when it comes to teaching your young man the correct way to put on a prophylactic. You can also use a cucumber, but only if you want to give your young man lifelong feelings of inadequacy.
- Comic pratfalls.
It's a classic for a reason, people.
Sunday, July 13, 2014
Vizsla Flashback - Let's Compare Our Things!
No, not like that.
I was thinking earlier - there's quite a bit of confusion when discussing 'Things' simply because no one has taken the time to really sit down and set the record straight - honestly assessing the pros and cons, strengths and weaknesses of each 'Thing' in its own right and then comparing and contrasting.
And so, once again - you're welcome, Universe. Here is-
So there you have it. The Vizsla describes every thing.
Honestly, I give and I give people.
I was thinking earlier - there's quite a bit of confusion when discussing 'Things' simply because no one has taken the time to really sit down and set the record straight - honestly assessing the pros and cons, strengths and weaknesses of each 'Thing' in its own right and then comparing and contrasting.
And so, once again - you're welcome, Universe. Here is-
The Comprehensive Vizsla's Guide to Things
1st Edition
Thing, The -
Founding
member of the Fantastic Four - as published by Marvel Comics Group, The
Thing is a large humanoid who appears to be made entirely out of orange
rock who wears nothing but blue shorts. (which raises all sorts of
other questions regarding his orange rocks, but we'll leave that one
alone for the moment.)
The
Thing is a man named Ben Grimm (except for those occasions when he
wasn't. For example, Ms. Marvel became a female thing (easy,
Shriner...) for awhile. I honestly don't know what ever happened with
that storyline.) Ben was an astronaut on the most improbably crewed
mission into space ever which was bombarded with the specific kind of
cosmic radiation that makes ironic alterations to your genetic code
based on your deep seated personality characteristics. As happens.
Contrary
to his frightening appearance, The Thing is frequently kind-hearted,
although gruff, and makes a valuable and considerate teammate. Most of
the time.
Desirability as a social companion - 8/10
Desirability as a mate - Depends entirely on the shorts issue
Scary factor - 4/10
Thing, The -
Not
to be confused with the comic book character, The Thing (or The Thing
From Another World, to use his (her?) full name) is a shapeshifting
alien with a curious penchant for corpse mutilation in the interest of
biological study. Functionally non-verbal as a mushy, blobby, oozy
thing, it tends to only speak in the style and manner of whatever person
it's pretending to be at the time. Which I suppose is either a plus or
a minus depending on how attractive or interesting you find the person
it's pretending to be at that moment.
Not a huge fan of red hot coat hangers
Desirability as a social companion - 1/10
Desirability
as a mate - depends on how quick you can be and how OK you are with
other people being in the room to prevent it from... you know..
mutilating you. Unless that's what you're into. It's not about
judging.
Scary Factor - 9/10
Thing, (no article)
Helpful
guest (or possibly employee) of the Addams Family, Thing is a
disembodied hand that lives in a small wooden box and scuttles around
the house preforming small domestic tasks like delivering letters and
occasional dusting.
Not
a great deal of use in heavy lifting tasks, Thing always wanders about
the place completely naked. as most hands tend to do, actually.
Desirability as a social companion - 10/10 (unless he creeps you out)
Desirability as a mate - .... No, Too easy.
Oh Come on - No, I'm not going to do it.
Stop
being such a baby and just say it. - No, I am absolutely not going to
go for the handjob joke here. just let it go and move on.
Fine. Whatever -
Scary Factor - For the Hand - 3/10. For your obsessive insistence on going for the low hanging fruit, joke-wise - 9/10
Hee-Hee -
...- What??
You said 'Low Hanging Fruit' :) -
- Oh for the love of GOD, seriously? Let's just move on.
Thing 1
This
smallish blue haired imp is full of mischief, and has been known to
cause considerable damage to the housekeeping of suburban homes when Mom
is away. Prone to causing frosting stains, Thing 1 is essentially
benevolent, or at the very least harmless. Probably good for a fun
afternoon. Most commonly sighted in the company of Thing 2
Wears a fetching red onesie.
Desirability as a social companion - 5/10. Probably OK in small doses.
Desirability as a mate - I'm strangely uncomfortable considering it. Besides which, he's probably monogamous with Thing 2.
Scary Factor - either 2/10 or 10/10 - depending on your level of obsessive compulsiveness regarding household upkeep.
Thing 2
See above
So there you have it. The Vizsla describes every thing.
Honestly, I give and I give people.
Sunday, July 6, 2014
Vizsla Flashback - What I Know About Independance Day
It was an incredibly crappy and lazily scripted movie released in
1996, directed by Roland Emmerich - A man who appears to love nothing
more than frantically pleasuring himself while watching computer
generated simulations of national monuments being destroyed in a variety
of ways.
"Oh... Oh God.. Yeah... There... Shoot the laser right theeeeeeeeeeere...."
In
other terms - Independence Day is another name for the 4th of July, the
day on which America commemorates to adoption of the Declaration of
Independence* by shooting off a large number of fireworks.
*Although
it's a reasonable guess that not one American in a thousand could
actually tell you that that's specifically what's being commemorated.
Nor could they probably spell 'commemorated'.
As
we all know, fireworks date back to the Han dynasty in China (more or
less 200 BC) and were traditionally used to ensure good fortune by
frightening away ghosts and spirits.
Which
is why we fire them off on the 4th of July - to ensure that zombie
Thomas Jefferson doesn't descend on you and eat your children in the
night.
That's what we have Antonin Scalia for.
You're welcome, America. Please carry on frightening away ghosts and refusing to learn the metric system.
Sunday, June 8, 2014
Vizsla Flashback - Are There Only 16 Of Us Now?
Internet fashionability is a funny thing. (And on a related note, I'll happily take my turn at being fashionable now, thanks)
One of the things currently floating around in the aether, mass replicating itself is a series of variations on the Myers-Briggs Test results.*
*Which is a pretty strange thing to be meme-ing when you think about it.
And so not only are there people out there casually mentioning that they're INFP or BNSF or whatever, there is also a 'thing' wherein people map those Myers-Briggs Types onto the cast of popular TV shows/animals/etc.
In a sense it's really just the next progression from Survey Monkey and 'Which Character from Gilligan's Island are you?' quizzes*
*Lovie Howell, since you asked
But perhaps I should take this from the beginning.
The Myers-Briggs test (for those who have not had the pleasure) is a system for sorting general personality characteristics based on 4 opposition pairs.
1st - Are you (I)ntroverted or (E)xtroverted (this is pretty self-explanitory and I think most people have a pretty good sense of where they sit on this scale.)
2nd - Are you (S)ensing or i(N)tuitive - Because only 2 questions in and they've already run out of new letters to use, which seems like a lack of forward planning to me. Oversimplifying, this basically means - do you look strictly at the details or do you interpret things.
3rd - Are you (T)hinking or (F)eeling - which to oversimplify even more horribly means - do you make decisions with your brain or your heart
4th - Are you more prone to (J)udging or (P)erceiving. Or to continue oversimplifying - how 'down' are you with things being left open ended or unresolved.
If you accept that everyone falls broadly into one of the two categories in each question, then you can set up a Gregor Mendel* style 4x4 grid and plot out all the various combinations (there are 16 possible variations)
*Google him. You know you want to. One hint - 'Peas'
This is all well and good and has given countless HR departments endless joy running folk through the testing procedure. You get your results on a scale, so it isn't just a question of 'am I a T or an F, but exactly where on the continuum between the two you fall. Which allowed me to spend several days after taking the test to comment on the extent of my P-ness. Never. Stopped. Being. Funny.
However, lately I've noticed this 4x4 grid showing up mapped onto all sorts of whoo-ha. Which Downton Abbey character is your Myers-Briggs type, Which Animal is your Myers-Briggs type. Which commemorative wang of the founding fathers is your Myers-Briggs type, etc. etc.
The net result of this is that we've kind of forgotten about the whole sliding scale nature of the thing (and the implicit P-ness therein) and we seem to have decreed that everyone in the world is exactly one of these 16 personalities - no exceptions, no variations. You're either Maggie Smith or a meerkat, end of story.
And that, as I've mentioned before, is why I'm not a huge fan of memes in general. They seem like they allow you to be creative, but they always end up being limiting.
One of the things currently floating around in the aether, mass replicating itself is a series of variations on the Myers-Briggs Test results.*
*Which is a pretty strange thing to be meme-ing when you think about it.
And so not only are there people out there casually mentioning that they're INFP or BNSF or whatever, there is also a 'thing' wherein people map those Myers-Briggs Types onto the cast of popular TV shows/animals/etc.
In a sense it's really just the next progression from Survey Monkey and 'Which Character from Gilligan's Island are you?' quizzes*
*Lovie Howell, since you asked
But perhaps I should take this from the beginning.
The Myers-Briggs test (for those who have not had the pleasure) is a system for sorting general personality characteristics based on 4 opposition pairs.
1st - Are you (I)ntroverted or (E)xtroverted (this is pretty self-explanitory and I think most people have a pretty good sense of where they sit on this scale.)
2nd - Are you (S)ensing or i(N)tuitive - Because only 2 questions in and they've already run out of new letters to use, which seems like a lack of forward planning to me. Oversimplifying, this basically means - do you look strictly at the details or do you interpret things.
3rd - Are you (T)hinking or (F)eeling - which to oversimplify even more horribly means - do you make decisions with your brain or your heart
4th - Are you more prone to (J)udging or (P)erceiving. Or to continue oversimplifying - how 'down' are you with things being left open ended or unresolved.
Now that I've given aneurysms to anyone with any actual psychological training,
I'll get to my point.
If you accept that everyone falls broadly into one of the two categories in each question, then you can set up a Gregor Mendel* style 4x4 grid and plot out all the various combinations (there are 16 possible variations)
*Google him. You know you want to. One hint - 'Peas'
This is all well and good and has given countless HR departments endless joy running folk through the testing procedure. You get your results on a scale, so it isn't just a question of 'am I a T or an F, but exactly where on the continuum between the two you fall. Which allowed me to spend several days after taking the test to comment on the extent of my P-ness. Never. Stopped. Being. Funny.
However, lately I've noticed this 4x4 grid showing up mapped onto all sorts of whoo-ha. Which Downton Abbey character is your Myers-Briggs type, Which Animal is your Myers-Briggs type. Which commemorative wang of the founding fathers is your Myers-Briggs type, etc. etc.
The net result of this is that we've kind of forgotten about the whole sliding scale nature of the thing (and the implicit P-ness therein) and we seem to have decreed that everyone in the world is exactly one of these 16 personalities - no exceptions, no variations. You're either Maggie Smith or a meerkat, end of story.
And that, as I've mentioned before, is why I'm not a huge fan of memes in general. They seem like they allow you to be creative, but they always end up being limiting.
Tuesday, April 8, 2014
Well, that's one way to keep the numbers down...
As I often mention, I get far too much enjoyment out of trolling the message boards on extreme right-wing 'news' sites and pointing out factual and logical errors in their various ramblings*
* I know, fish in a barrel. But still.
Today's notable entry involved a long and barely coherent diatribe about how Obama was clearly a Fascist, Socialist, Communist Dictator* because he'd issued more executive orders than any other President in history, which obviously shows that he was a tyrant.
*In the right wing, fox-news viewing world all of these terms are completely interchangeable and can be loosely defined as 'Words that we don't know what they mean'.
In the real world, for those who are curious, he's actually issued 168 of them, putting him somewhere in the middle of the spectrum as far as Presidents go. George H. W., for the sake of comparison, issued 166, although that was just in one term so it's not exactly an apples to apples comparison. F.D.R apparently issued over 3,000 of them, but he did have a depression and a World War to deal with, so I'm willing to concede that they may have been justified. Further research required.
I should come clean and admit that I didn't know any of this off the top of my head, I did a thorough and exhaustive review of the issue involving a three second Google search and a quick glance at the first website that came up. Which still puts me ahead of the commentators at OneNewsNow, I might add.
Further review of the list, because I'm curious about this sort of thing, led me to the discovery that the record for least number of Executive Orders, coming in at a firm '0' is held by William Henry Harrison, our nations 9th President.
Before giving him any resounding accolades for this however, we should remember that William Henry also holds the records for two other things - Longest Inaugural address and shortest term in office. The two things are related.
What happened was this; William Henry Harrison was, prior to Reagan* the oldest President elected to office. His opposition played on this, and William Henry was eager to not appear in any way elderly or decrepit. So in the parade to his inaugural address he refused to wear a jacket and rode on horseback, in order to look younger and sprier. Unfortunately, it was freezing cold and sleeting on that particular day. He followed this by giving an inaugural address just shy of two hours long, also in the freezing sleet.
*381 Executive orders, for the record
He followed this by collapsing with pneumonia almost immediately upon taking office and dying after spending a mere 32 days as President, roughly 30 of them in a coma.
So, yes. He is a shining example of not riding roughshod over the will of congress by using executive orders.
He is also a poster boy for wearing a coat and having a speech editor.
The moral of the story - sure, it's possible to break a record. But it's not always your best plan.
* I know, fish in a barrel. But still.
Today's notable entry involved a long and barely coherent diatribe about how Obama was clearly a Fascist, Socialist, Communist Dictator* because he'd issued more executive orders than any other President in history, which obviously shows that he was a tyrant.
*In the right wing, fox-news viewing world all of these terms are completely interchangeable and can be loosely defined as 'Words that we don't know what they mean'.
In the real world, for those who are curious, he's actually issued 168 of them, putting him somewhere in the middle of the spectrum as far as Presidents go. George H. W., for the sake of comparison, issued 166, although that was just in one term so it's not exactly an apples to apples comparison. F.D.R apparently issued over 3,000 of them, but he did have a depression and a World War to deal with, so I'm willing to concede that they may have been justified. Further research required.
I should come clean and admit that I didn't know any of this off the top of my head, I did a thorough and exhaustive review of the issue involving a three second Google search and a quick glance at the first website that came up. Which still puts me ahead of the commentators at OneNewsNow, I might add.
Further review of the list, because I'm curious about this sort of thing, led me to the discovery that the record for least number of Executive Orders, coming in at a firm '0' is held by William Henry Harrison, our nations 9th President.
Before giving him any resounding accolades for this however, we should remember that William Henry also holds the records for two other things - Longest Inaugural address and shortest term in office. The two things are related.
What happened was this; William Henry Harrison was, prior to Reagan* the oldest President elected to office. His opposition played on this, and William Henry was eager to not appear in any way elderly or decrepit. So in the parade to his inaugural address he refused to wear a jacket and rode on horseback, in order to look younger and sprier. Unfortunately, it was freezing cold and sleeting on that particular day. He followed this by giving an inaugural address just shy of two hours long, also in the freezing sleet.
*381 Executive orders, for the record
He followed this by collapsing with pneumonia almost immediately upon taking office and dying after spending a mere 32 days as President, roughly 30 of them in a coma.
So, yes. He is a shining example of not riding roughshod over the will of congress by using executive orders.
He is also a poster boy for wearing a coat and having a speech editor.
The moral of the story - sure, it's possible to break a record. But it's not always your best plan.
Sunday, April 6, 2014
Vizsla Flashback - Well. That Plan Certainly Ganged Aft Agley, now didn't it.
I don't recall if I've ever mentioned it, but Vizsla's love rearranging furniture.
So the other day, in amongst a fit of trying to get the stupid computer working again (a struggle which I ultimately won, as you will observe) I decided that the obvious approach to the problem was to rearrange the den.
Step one of this plan, for reasons that are far too complicated to go into here, was to clear off the bottom two shelves of a bookshelf on the far side of the room so that I could lovingly display the VHS copies of Doctor Who episodes circa 1963-1989 in broadcast order next to the shelves of the DVD releases of same.*
*Yes, I realize how sad that sounds typed out.
In any case, part of the rationale of clearing off the shelves was that I really do have a hell of a lot of books in the den that don't really need to be there and now live quite happily on a shelf in the basement. See, Doctor Who does fix everything.
So there I was, going through a buttload of P.D. James and Charlaine Harris and god knows what else, when I came across a small copy of Robert Burns' Tam O'Shanter (which as I recall I bought in a W.H. Smiths in Ayr, although I might be mistaken about that.)
Robert Burns, for those who are unfamiliar, was a Scottish poet (and so much more actually, but we'll keep it to the cliffnotes here) who - amongst other things - wrote a poem called, 'To a Mouse, On turning her up in her Nest, with the Plough, November, 1785.'
The title may not immediately ring any bells for you, however it's relatively certain that you've quoted it at some point, as this is the one that contains the bit about 'The Best Laid Plans of Mice and Men...'
The actual quote, second stanza from the end of the poem, runs thus-
Now it's a safe bet that a reasonable percentage of you just said - 'That's not how it goes' or 'I learned it went 'Go Oft Astray' or 'I'm only here for pictures of Markie Post in a bikini. Where are the pictures of Markie Post in a bikini?'
Robert Burns' primary contribution to poetry, literature, and art in general lies in this exact point. He was one of the first - if not the actual first - writers in modern English (ish) to say 'screw all that formal English, I'm going to write in the dialect that people actually speak.' Which is where all that so-called 'Mongrel' Gaelic blend 'Gang aft agley' business comes from. It means more or less 'go oft astray', but no one in the real world would actually ever put it that formally. In 1785 Scotland they would have said 'Gang Aft Agley', and so that's how Robert was Damn Well going to write it, formality and convention be damned. He was tearing down the artificial distinction between 'legitimate' 'highbrow' language and the low-brow 'common' way that actual human beings spoke to one another. If you don't see why this appeals to me, allow me to refer you to Vizsla versus the Myth of High and Low culture, 17 Limericks about Orthography, and several other previous columns.
It's also worth noting that this is the same poem that gave the world (and Russell T. Davies) the phrase 'Tim'rous beastie', Which means that Burns is responsible however indirectly for John Steinback, Eddie Izzard and Tooth and Claw.
The point of the poem, should anyone care is that Robert was out plowing his field, accidentally ran over a mouse hole, thus destroying the tim'rous beastie in questions home, and basically spend a few pages saying, 'wow. Sucks man. You spent all that time building a nice house and somebody just comes along and screws it up for you. Just goes to show, no matter how hard you plan things can still go wrong. That's why it's a mistake to try. Or care about anything.'*
*That last part is merely implied.
All of which is my way of leading up to the revelation that the diet isn't going terribly well.
To bring us all up to speed - Previously on: The 42nd Vizsla - I announced that I was attempting this 30 days with no carbs and no sugar thing despite the many reasons why that was a horrible idea.
Day 1 - All went well.
Day 2 - did pretty well until about 10:30 pm at which point I determined that I could not carry on working on my Halloween costume without a glass of scotch. (In my defense, I was nearly done and the cuffs were kicking my ass.
Day 3 - Was a weekend. Can of Soda on the way to a work event. Large soda at the work event. Large Scotch after the work event (In my defense, it was a kids movie screening. I defy anyone working such an event to not have a largish drink afterwards.
Day 4 - Sunday. Well, the weekend was already shot anyway...
Day 5 - Back on the wagon. Until early evening when we had a chicken with rice hot dish, but it was delicious and I don't regret a thing.
Day 8 - Work Halloween party. Then Halloween. The predictable occurs
Day 9-12 - Who are you to judge me.
And so... I have to decree the great no crab/no sugar event of 2013 to be less than an entire rousing success.
BUT...
I have cut pop intake down to less than a can every other day
I haven't actually had any carbs at work since I started - it turns out the vending machine has almonds.
It actually got me to start working out daily again.
So, all things being equal, it can't be said to be a total failure either.
Now I just have to deal with this guy who just drove a plow through my house...
So the other day, in amongst a fit of trying to get the stupid computer working again (a struggle which I ultimately won, as you will observe) I decided that the obvious approach to the problem was to rearrange the den.
Step one of this plan, for reasons that are far too complicated to go into here, was to clear off the bottom two shelves of a bookshelf on the far side of the room so that I could lovingly display the VHS copies of Doctor Who episodes circa 1963-1989 in broadcast order next to the shelves of the DVD releases of same.*
*Yes, I realize how sad that sounds typed out.
In any case, part of the rationale of clearing off the shelves was that I really do have a hell of a lot of books in the den that don't really need to be there and now live quite happily on a shelf in the basement. See, Doctor Who does fix everything.
So there I was, going through a buttload of P.D. James and Charlaine Harris and god knows what else, when I came across a small copy of Robert Burns' Tam O'Shanter (which as I recall I bought in a W.H. Smiths in Ayr, although I might be mistaken about that.)
Robert Burns, for those who are unfamiliar, was a Scottish poet (and so much more actually, but we'll keep it to the cliffnotes here) who - amongst other things - wrote a poem called, 'To a Mouse, On turning her up in her Nest, with the Plough, November, 1785.'
The title may not immediately ring any bells for you, however it's relatively certain that you've quoted it at some point, as this is the one that contains the bit about 'The Best Laid Plans of Mice and Men...'
The actual quote, second stanza from the end of the poem, runs thus-
But Mousie, thou art no thy-lane
In proving foresight may be vain:
The best laid schemes o' Mice and Men
Gang aft agley,
An' lae'e us nought but grief an' pain,
For promis'd joy
Now it's a safe bet that a reasonable percentage of you just said - 'That's not how it goes' or 'I learned it went 'Go Oft Astray' or 'I'm only here for pictures of Markie Post in a bikini. Where are the pictures of Markie Post in a bikini?'
Robert Burns' primary contribution to poetry, literature, and art in general lies in this exact point. He was one of the first - if not the actual first - writers in modern English (ish) to say 'screw all that formal English, I'm going to write in the dialect that people actually speak.' Which is where all that so-called 'Mongrel' Gaelic blend 'Gang aft agley' business comes from. It means more or less 'go oft astray', but no one in the real world would actually ever put it that formally. In 1785 Scotland they would have said 'Gang Aft Agley', and so that's how Robert was Damn Well going to write it, formality and convention be damned. He was tearing down the artificial distinction between 'legitimate' 'highbrow' language and the low-brow 'common' way that actual human beings spoke to one another. If you don't see why this appeals to me, allow me to refer you to Vizsla versus the Myth of High and Low culture, 17 Limericks about Orthography, and several other previous columns.
It's also worth noting that this is the same poem that gave the world (and Russell T. Davies) the phrase 'Tim'rous beastie', Which means that Burns is responsible however indirectly for John Steinback, Eddie Izzard and Tooth and Claw.
The point of the poem, should anyone care is that Robert was out plowing his field, accidentally ran over a mouse hole, thus destroying the tim'rous beastie in questions home, and basically spend a few pages saying, 'wow. Sucks man. You spent all that time building a nice house and somebody just comes along and screws it up for you. Just goes to show, no matter how hard you plan things can still go wrong. That's why it's a mistake to try. Or care about anything.'*
*That last part is merely implied.
All of which is my way of leading up to the revelation that the diet isn't going terribly well.
To bring us all up to speed - Previously on: The 42nd Vizsla - I announced that I was attempting this 30 days with no carbs and no sugar thing despite the many reasons why that was a horrible idea.
Day 1 - All went well.
Day 2 - did pretty well until about 10:30 pm at which point I determined that I could not carry on working on my Halloween costume without a glass of scotch. (In my defense, I was nearly done and the cuffs were kicking my ass.
Day 3 - Was a weekend. Can of Soda on the way to a work event. Large soda at the work event. Large Scotch after the work event (In my defense, it was a kids movie screening. I defy anyone working such an event to not have a largish drink afterwards.
Day 4 - Sunday. Well, the weekend was already shot anyway...
Day 5 - Back on the wagon. Until early evening when we had a chicken with rice hot dish, but it was delicious and I don't regret a thing.
Day 8 - Work Halloween party. Then Halloween. The predictable occurs
Day 9-12 - Who are you to judge me.
And so... I have to decree the great no crab/no sugar event of 2013 to be less than an entire rousing success.
BUT...
I have cut pop intake down to less than a can every other day
I haven't actually had any carbs at work since I started - it turns out the vending machine has almonds.
It actually got me to start working out daily again.
So, all things being equal, it can't be said to be a total failure either.
Now I just have to deal with this guy who just drove a plow through my house...
Tuesday, March 4, 2014
There's a Name For That Now...
So, as part of Zimbio's continued quest to dominate the planet by undermining our collective image*, I found myself taking a quiz the other day entitled 'Which Fan Group Do You Belong To?'
*Seriously. At this point I have no idea who or what I am. Am I Luna Lovegood? The Color Mauve? A Painful Bowel Lesion?** Thanks to Zimbio, I no longer have any idea.
**Avoid the 'What hurts when I poop?' quiz. I cannot overstate this.
In any case - The quiz, after an intensive session of 13 questions, determined that I belonged in the Fans of Benedict Cumberbatch category, and then went on to make a few references to Sherlock that it thought I might enjoy.
The first point of interest here is that the quiz authors seem to not make a distinction between Fans of Benedict Cumberbatch and fans of the program Sherlock. While it's true that there's a great deal of overlap between the two, there's definitely a distinction. But that's not the thing that really grabbed my attention.
What really grabbed my attention was that halfway through the description it referred to the Benedict Cumberbatch fan base as 'Cumberbitches' which, while cute, is actually disliked by Benjamin himself. He's gone on record a few times now as asking his fan base to please not refer to them thus because he feels like it's demeaning to them - which is really a surprisingly well adjusted and healthy attitude to hear from a celebrity, so points to him there.
It all begs the broader question of why we feel the need to have one media-friendly buzzword to identify whichever TV Show/Book/Film Franchise we like best. The obvious answer is 'To allow us to make hashtags about it', but I think in the broader sense we have to blame Star Trek*.
*In this as in so many other things.
It should be pointed out before we get any further into this that the word 'fan' itself is problematic. An abbreviation of 'fanatic', it already carried a vague undertone of 'unseemly enthusiasm' well before Gene Roddenberry's devotes came on the scene. Once people began to be aware that there was a reasonably notable group of people who seemed really worked up about this Saturday Morning adventure series it was only a matter of time before they had to come up with a term to refer to them. And so, the term 'Trekkies' essentially came into being as a way for others to discuss them. Because this is essentially a diminutive form of the word it came to be seen as insulting and a countermovement rose up from within the fan base to rebrand themselves as 'Trekkers'. An amusing but largely insignificant power struggle thereafter took place as the two factions both attempted to present themselves as 'the REAL face of Star Trek fandom', but for the most part the rest of the world carried on happily not caring much either way.
The real lesson learned from this was that if you were a devoted fan of a program it was vitally important to get ahead of the ball and come up with your own name, and thus maintain what we can loosely call 'brand integrity'. This was a lesson that the fans of The X-Files picked up and ran with, christening themselves 'X-Philes' on the newly existent internet almost as soon as the first episode of The Adventures of Brisco County Junior had finished.*
*It was the lead in show on Friday nights during the first season. It starred Bruce Campbell and was an almost complete bomb, despite being reasonably amusing. Vizsla=knowledge.
Of course things spiraled out of control, as these things tend to do, and now we have Whovians*, Bronies, Thunderheads, the aforementioned (if frowned upon) Cumberbitches and no end cute and Twitter-ready group identifiers. Not to mention the murkier and more trouble subgroupings where you find your Yiffers and others even more troubling.
*Fans of Doctor Who found the entirely ingenious and dignified way of avoiding the whole 90s fad for creating fan-group names by the simple expedient of their program not existing at the time. Russel T. Davies put an end to that of course, but we had a good run while it lasted.
Of course, what the Zimbio quiz and other internet message sniping fail to recognize is that these days nobody IS a fan of just one genre program. One is just as likely to simultaneously be a Trekkie(er) AND a Whovian and a Cumberbatch enthusiast and whatever the hardcore Downton Abbey fans refer to themselves as while they're at ComiCon*
*Abbites? The DA? Public Television Supporters?
So your typical genre TV enthusiast these days isn't a single group name so much as a recipe. 'I'm Babylon/Battlestar/Midwife/Who with a dash of FaceOff'* It's so much more interesting when it's this overcomplicated, don't you think?
*The SyFy reality show, not the stupid Nicholas Cage film
*Seriously. At this point I have no idea who or what I am. Am I Luna Lovegood? The Color Mauve? A Painful Bowel Lesion?** Thanks to Zimbio, I no longer have any idea.
**Avoid the 'What hurts when I poop?' quiz. I cannot overstate this.
In any case - The quiz, after an intensive session of 13 questions, determined that I belonged in the Fans of Benedict Cumberbatch category, and then went on to make a few references to Sherlock that it thought I might enjoy.
The first point of interest here is that the quiz authors seem to not make a distinction between Fans of Benedict Cumberbatch and fans of the program Sherlock. While it's true that there's a great deal of overlap between the two, there's definitely a distinction. But that's not the thing that really grabbed my attention.
What really grabbed my attention was that halfway through the description it referred to the Benedict Cumberbatch fan base as 'Cumberbitches' which, while cute, is actually disliked by Benjamin himself. He's gone on record a few times now as asking his fan base to please not refer to them thus because he feels like it's demeaning to them - which is really a surprisingly well adjusted and healthy attitude to hear from a celebrity, so points to him there.
It all begs the broader question of why we feel the need to have one media-friendly buzzword to identify whichever TV Show/Book/Film Franchise we like best. The obvious answer is 'To allow us to make hashtags about it', but I think in the broader sense we have to blame Star Trek*.
*In this as in so many other things.
It should be pointed out before we get any further into this that the word 'fan' itself is problematic. An abbreviation of 'fanatic', it already carried a vague undertone of 'unseemly enthusiasm' well before Gene Roddenberry's devotes came on the scene. Once people began to be aware that there was a reasonably notable group of people who seemed really worked up about this Saturday Morning adventure series it was only a matter of time before they had to come up with a term to refer to them. And so, the term 'Trekkies' essentially came into being as a way for others to discuss them. Because this is essentially a diminutive form of the word it came to be seen as insulting and a countermovement rose up from within the fan base to rebrand themselves as 'Trekkers'. An amusing but largely insignificant power struggle thereafter took place as the two factions both attempted to present themselves as 'the REAL face of Star Trek fandom', but for the most part the rest of the world carried on happily not caring much either way.
The real lesson learned from this was that if you were a devoted fan of a program it was vitally important to get ahead of the ball and come up with your own name, and thus maintain what we can loosely call 'brand integrity'. This was a lesson that the fans of The X-Files picked up and ran with, christening themselves 'X-Philes' on the newly existent internet almost as soon as the first episode of The Adventures of Brisco County Junior had finished.*
*It was the lead in show on Friday nights during the first season. It starred Bruce Campbell and was an almost complete bomb, despite being reasonably amusing. Vizsla=knowledge.
Of course things spiraled out of control, as these things tend to do, and now we have Whovians*, Bronies, Thunderheads, the aforementioned (if frowned upon) Cumberbitches and no end cute and Twitter-ready group identifiers. Not to mention the murkier and more trouble subgroupings where you find your Yiffers and others even more troubling.
*Fans of Doctor Who found the entirely ingenious and dignified way of avoiding the whole 90s fad for creating fan-group names by the simple expedient of their program not existing at the time. Russel T. Davies put an end to that of course, but we had a good run while it lasted.
Of course, what the Zimbio quiz and other internet message sniping fail to recognize is that these days nobody IS a fan of just one genre program. One is just as likely to simultaneously be a Trekkie(er) AND a Whovian and a Cumberbatch enthusiast and whatever the hardcore Downton Abbey fans refer to themselves as while they're at ComiCon*
*Abbites? The DA? Public Television Supporters?
So your typical genre TV enthusiast these days isn't a single group name so much as a recipe. 'I'm Babylon/Battlestar/Midwife/Who with a dash of FaceOff'* It's so much more interesting when it's this overcomplicated, don't you think?
*The SyFy reality show, not the stupid Nicholas Cage film
Sunday, March 2, 2014
Vizlsa Flashback - Your Less Quotable Livestock
Today's flashback takes us back to the heady days of mid September, when we still believed that the oncoming winter might one day end...
Just so we're on the same page going in - there may be some tough talk about Norway coming.
So, a few years back I was visiting my cousin in Denver and her family and was talking to her son* who was at the time 1 believe two years old.
*For those who care about the specifics of such things, that would make him my first cousin, once removed. Yes, I'm sure. Go look it up. Vizsla = Knowledge.
We were have a deep and thought provoking discussion on the sounds that various animals make, as one does at fashionable dinner parties. He had expressed some strong viewpoints on how the Lion goes. (Spoiler alert - 'Roar'). Then we covered Snake (hiss), Hyenas (just an excuse to laugh really loudly) and then - because I was caught up in the general theme of 'Critters of the Veldt' I asked what noise the Hippo made.
This was followed by an awkward silence as all parties involved realized that none of us had the faintest idea what noise the Hippo made. Finally the boy was forced to admit that he did not know and asked what the answer was. Because I didn't want to appear uninformed, and because I was the one who'd brought the stupid question up in the first place I was forced to punt.
And so I responded 'Hippos don't make noise. Hippos are very quiet.'* He absorbed this new information with awed amazement and in fact repeated it back to me at regular intervals for the rest of the evening.
*This is of course a lie. The noise a hippo actually makes is the sound of them stomping the everlasting piss out of you for little to no reason, because it turns out that hippos are actually bad ass sons of bitches who are only prevented from ripping your spine out and beating you to death with it by the lack of opposable thumbs. Yeah, those Hippos are one mean motha-f... <SHUT YO MOUTH!> Just talkin' bout Hippos. <AND WE CAN DIG IT!>
The point I was getting to before the above footnote got out of control is that there exists a definite subgroup of the animal kingdom of all those animals who sadly do not have a commonly associated sound that one can share with preschoolers.
For some of them it's simply that they have no capacity to make cute noises. Rabbits, for example, have no vocal cords. This means that anytime you actually hear a rabbit making noise it means that something extraordinarily unpleasant is happening to said rabbit, and it will shortly cease being a rabbit with any material concerns.
Deer aren't known as big talkers either, and while I don't actually know about the status of their vocal cords, I suspect this might be Natures way of preventing our forests from being just one long screaming refrain of 'HOLY SH*T, THEY SHOT STEVE!!! THEY F***ING SHOT STEVE!!!'*
*Deer swear a lot. True fact.
Where this is all going - Norway.
In my traipsing around the internet (well, OK, Facebook.) my attention was directed by Helpful Friend Claudia (Q to her peeps) to this video.
Yes, the good people of Norway are directing their attention the the timeless question of what noise exactly does a Fox make.*
*The obvious answer to America - The sound of grotesquely irresponsible journalism
Now, I want to say right off that I really, REALLY wish that the Fox did in fact make the sound 'Hatte Hatte Hatte Ho. Also, every music video ever made EVER should include a CG fox performing scat (the music style, not the poo. Try to stay with me.)
However, the video in question also made me have to once again acknowledge the existence of the Furries and their even more troubling subgroup - the Yiffers. No, I'm not going to explain them, you'll have to Google them. But be certain your image search is turned off.
Apparently the comedy duo in question has been besieged with offers for record deals based on this effort, which to be fair is pretty funny.
See, now this is what happens when a significant portion of your country eats reindeer.
Your Less Quotable Livestock
Just so we're on the same page going in - there may be some tough talk about Norway coming.
So, a few years back I was visiting my cousin in Denver and her family and was talking to her son* who was at the time 1 believe two years old.
*For those who care about the specifics of such things, that would make him my first cousin, once removed. Yes, I'm sure. Go look it up. Vizsla = Knowledge.
We were have a deep and thought provoking discussion on the sounds that various animals make, as one does at fashionable dinner parties. He had expressed some strong viewpoints on how the Lion goes. (Spoiler alert - 'Roar'). Then we covered Snake (hiss), Hyenas (just an excuse to laugh really loudly) and then - because I was caught up in the general theme of 'Critters of the Veldt' I asked what noise the Hippo made.
This was followed by an awkward silence as all parties involved realized that none of us had the faintest idea what noise the Hippo made. Finally the boy was forced to admit that he did not know and asked what the answer was. Because I didn't want to appear uninformed, and because I was the one who'd brought the stupid question up in the first place I was forced to punt.
And so I responded 'Hippos don't make noise. Hippos are very quiet.'* He absorbed this new information with awed amazement and in fact repeated it back to me at regular intervals for the rest of the evening.
*This is of course a lie. The noise a hippo actually makes is the sound of them stomping the everlasting piss out of you for little to no reason, because it turns out that hippos are actually bad ass sons of bitches who are only prevented from ripping your spine out and beating you to death with it by the lack of opposable thumbs. Yeah, those Hippos are one mean motha-f... <SHUT YO MOUTH!> Just talkin' bout Hippos. <AND WE CAN DIG IT!>
The point I was getting to before the above footnote got out of control is that there exists a definite subgroup of the animal kingdom of all those animals who sadly do not have a commonly associated sound that one can share with preschoolers.
For some of them it's simply that they have no capacity to make cute noises. Rabbits, for example, have no vocal cords. This means that anytime you actually hear a rabbit making noise it means that something extraordinarily unpleasant is happening to said rabbit, and it will shortly cease being a rabbit with any material concerns.
Deer aren't known as big talkers either, and while I don't actually know about the status of their vocal cords, I suspect this might be Natures way of preventing our forests from being just one long screaming refrain of 'HOLY SH*T, THEY SHOT STEVE!!! THEY F***ING SHOT STEVE!!!'*
*Deer swear a lot. True fact.
Where this is all going - Norway.
In my traipsing around the internet (well, OK, Facebook.) my attention was directed by Helpful Friend Claudia (Q to her peeps) to this video.
Yes, the good people of Norway are directing their attention the the timeless question of what noise exactly does a Fox make.*
*The obvious answer to America - The sound of grotesquely irresponsible journalism
Now, I want to say right off that I really, REALLY wish that the Fox did in fact make the sound 'Hatte Hatte Hatte Ho. Also, every music video ever made EVER should include a CG fox performing scat (the music style, not the poo. Try to stay with me.)
However, the video in question also made me have to once again acknowledge the existence of the Furries and their even more troubling subgroup - the Yiffers. No, I'm not going to explain them, you'll have to Google them. But be certain your image search is turned off.
Apparently the comedy duo in question has been besieged with offers for record deals based on this effort, which to be fair is pretty funny.
See, now this is what happens when a significant portion of your country eats reindeer.
Sunday, February 9, 2014
Vizsla Flashback - Yeah... That's Not Exactly What That Means...
*No, I am not going within 5,000 miles of discussing that one, thanks.
During the commentary on the verdict which we are absolutely not discussing, one observer mentioned that the verdict was a real 'Pandora's Box' and we would have to see what it did for future prosecution.
Obviously, the most important thing to observe here is that the observer in question clearly completely missed the point of the story of Pandora's Box if they think that that was what it was about.
For those who were never deeply unpopular 12 year old boys who read a lot of Greek mythology, I'll explain.
Pandora was the first woman on Earth (according to Greek Mythology, don't get all huffy Young Earthers) and was given pretty much the whole package by the Gods - Looks, creativity, brilliance - She was basically the Felicia Day of pre-history.
But then Prometheus (the mythological figure, not the vaguely disappointing film) stole fire from the Gods and gave it the mankind because he thought it was fundamentally unfair that the Gods could help mankind out but chose not to do so.
(At this point you are probably asking - 'If Pandora was the first woman in the world, where did all these people that Prometheus gave fire to spring up from?' To this I'll respond, 'And who exactly did Adam and Eve's kids marry again?')
Anyway. The Greek Gods were pissed about the whole fire-theft thing, and so to punish Prometheus and the world in general they took a couple steps that might broadly be described as 'over-reacting'.
First they did a bunch of unpleasant stuff to Prometheus which is interesting but not relevant to the story at hand, and then they gave Pandora to Prometheus' brother Jim (ok, his name was Epimitheus, but Jim is funnier) and said to her basically, 'Hey Pandora, here's your new husband Jim. And as a wedding present here's a box.* But we should warn you - inside it is a lot of ... But we've already said too much. Seriously, just don't ever, ever open it, because it's really bad. And awesome. In it's terrible badness. Seriously, don't ever open it.'
Two Immediate reactions - 1: If you're a Greek God you get to start sentences with conjunctions whenever you damn well want to, and 2: Worst. Wedding present. Ever.
*probably actually a clay jar, but 'Pandora's clay jar' doesn't have the same ring to it.
So naturally, Pandora eventually gave in to her curiosity, opened the Box (jar), and all the evil in the world escaped* and could never be put back in the box. The end, way to ruin it for everyone, Panny.
*Except 'Hope', interestingly enough, whose inclusion on the list of 'all the evils in the world' says something interesting about your ancient Greeks.
What I'm getting at here is this - While these days we just use the phrase 'Pandora's Box' to refer to any non-reversible process that's probably going to have some negative consequences, that is not the point of the story.
The Point of the story is that if you give in to curiosity when you know the outcome will be bad then you damn well have to live with the consequences. And agree with the verdict or not, I'm fairly sure that the Zimmerman jurors were not just kinda trying it to see what would happen.
If you want to discuss non-reversible processes, just say 'non-reversible process' or how about the time honored 'Can't un-ring that bell.' Or if you get off on thermodynamics, 'I'm sorry, but that process clearly generated entropy* and therefore cannot by cyclical in nature'.
I can guarantee that if you say that last one you'll have a lot more time to read Greek Mythology.
*A significant portion of the readership just observed that Newton's second law of thermodynamics is that Entropy Increases. You know you you are and why you did so.
In other popular expressions that we all need to stop saying - 'Perfect Storm'.
Look people, it referred to one particular set of weather events. If you want to describe a confluence, just learn the word 'confluence' already. You could even go so far to use the word 'Gestalt' if you like, but get ready for a lot of blank looks.
Tuesday, January 7, 2014
Medical Degree Schmidical Degree
I'm not at all certain what I did in the night two nights ago*, but I woke up yesterday morning with the worst crick in my neck ever experienced by anyone in the history of the planet
*Current theory - Narcoleptic crimefighting while dressed as a Narwhal
The really strange thing is, this neck-crick in located in a location no sane neck crick would possibly allow itself to be located in. (Between T1 and T2 for those spine enthusiasts among you) This has, as you might imagine, left me somewhat befuddled as to what exactly is going on to cause such pain in said location.
Because I'd rather make stuff up than do any actual research, here's the current list of theories as to what ails me-
1 - Xyphoid process, after years of longing for freedom, is attempting to tunnel it's way out through my back on the theory that that route might be less guarded.
-Arguments for theory - Allows me to use the words 'Xyphoid process'
-Arguments against theory - No discernible sign of tunnelling through lungs. Xyphoid process still clearly visible in correct location
2 - My T1 is currently engaged in a fearsome battle with T1000. Fate of the future hangs in balance.
-Arguments for theory - Sounds awesome.
-Arguments against theory -Little reason for robots from the future to attack that specific vertebrae, unless spynet took offense to that post about smart TVs from a few days back.
3 - Beginning stages of growth of enormous leathery bat-like wings. In which case I will be having a pointed conversation with one or both of my parents RE: Familial background and will immediately be resubmitting my application to the X-Men.
-Arguments for theory -It's the one I want most to be true
-Arguments against theory -Most mutations manifest themselves at the onset of puberty (see: Kitty Pryde). Which was more years ago than I feel comfortable mentioning.
4 - Voodoo doll. Somewhere. Perhaps with that guy in the Temple of Doom.
-Arguments for theory -It IS the traditional place to stab a voodoo doll.
-Arguments against theory -I wouldn't recognize a shankara stone if I was relieving myself on one. Which actually might explain how I pissed the Temple of Doom guy off in the first place, I suppose...
Further information to follow as it comes to light.
*Current theory - Narcoleptic crimefighting while dressed as a Narwhal
The really strange thing is, this neck-crick in located in a location no sane neck crick would possibly allow itself to be located in. (Between T1 and T2 for those spine enthusiasts among you) This has, as you might imagine, left me somewhat befuddled as to what exactly is going on to cause such pain in said location.
Because I'd rather make stuff up than do any actual research, here's the current list of theories as to what ails me-
1 - Xyphoid process, after years of longing for freedom, is attempting to tunnel it's way out through my back on the theory that that route might be less guarded.
-Arguments for theory - Allows me to use the words 'Xyphoid process'
-Arguments against theory - No discernible sign of tunnelling through lungs. Xyphoid process still clearly visible in correct location
2 - My T1 is currently engaged in a fearsome battle with T1000. Fate of the future hangs in balance.
-Arguments for theory - Sounds awesome.
-Arguments against theory -Little reason for robots from the future to attack that specific vertebrae, unless spynet took offense to that post about smart TVs from a few days back.
3 - Beginning stages of growth of enormous leathery bat-like wings. In which case I will be having a pointed conversation with one or both of my parents RE: Familial background and will immediately be resubmitting my application to the X-Men.
-Arguments for theory -It's the one I want most to be true
-Arguments against theory -Most mutations manifest themselves at the onset of puberty (see: Kitty Pryde). Which was more years ago than I feel comfortable mentioning.
4 - Voodoo doll. Somewhere. Perhaps with that guy in the Temple of Doom.
-Arguments for theory -It IS the traditional place to stab a voodoo doll.
-Arguments against theory -I wouldn't recognize a shankara stone if I was relieving myself on one. Which actually might explain how I pissed the Temple of Doom guy off in the first place, I suppose...
Further information to follow as it comes to light.
Friday, November 15, 2013
Are there only 16 of us now?
Internet fashionability is a funny thing. (And on a related note, I'll happily take my turn at being fashionable now, thanks)
One of the things currently floating around in the aether, mass replicating itself is variations on the Myers Briggs Test results.*
*Which is a pretty strange thing to be meme-ing when you think about it.
And so not only are there people out there casually mentioning that they're INFP or BNSF or whatever, there is also a 'thing' wherein people map those Myers-Briggs Types onto the cast of popular TV shows/animals/etc.
In a sense it's really just the next progression from Survey Monkey and 'Which Character from Gilligan's Island are you?' quizzes*
*Lovie Howell, since you asked
But perhaps I should take this from the beginning.
The Myers-Briggs test (for those who have not had the pleasure) is a system for sorting general personality characteristics based on 4 opposition pairs.
1st - Are you (I)ntroverted or (E)xtroverted (this is pretty self-explanitory and I think most people have a pretty good sense of where they sit on this scale
2nd - Are you (S)ensing or i(N)tuitive - Because only 2 questions in and they've already run out of new letters to use, which seems like a lack of forward planning to me. Oversimplifying, this basically means - do you look strictly at the details or do you interpret things.
3rd - Are you (T)hinking or (F)eeling - which to oversimplify even more horribly means - do you make decisions with your brain or your heart
4th - Are you more prone to (J)udging or (P)erceiving. Or to continue oversimplifying - how 'down' are you with things being left open ended or unresolved.
If you accept that everyone falls broadly into one of the two categories in each question, then you can set up a Gregor Mendel* style 4X4 grid and plot out all the various combinations (there are 16 possible variations)
*Google him. You know you want to. One hint - 'Peas'
This is all well and good and has given countless HR departments endless joy running folk through the testing procedure. You get your results on a scale, so it isn't just a question of 'am I T or F, but exactly where on the continuum between the two you fall. Which allowed me to spend several days after taking the test to comment on the extent of my P-ness. Never. Stopped. Being. Funny.
However, lately I've noticed this 4x4 grid showing up mapped onto all sorts of whoo-ha. Which Downton Abbey character is your Myers-Briggs type, Which Animal is your Myers-Briggs type. Which commemorative wang of the founding fathers is your Myers-Briggs type, etc. etc.
The net result of this is that we've kind of forgotten about the whole sliding scale nature of the thing (and the implicit P-ness therein) and we seem to have decreed that everyone in the world is exactly one of these 16 personalities - no exceptions, no variations. You're either Maggie Smith or a meerkat, end of story.
And that, as I've mentioned before, is why I'm not a huge fan of memes in general. They seem like they allow you to be creative, but they always end up being limiting.
One of the things currently floating around in the aether, mass replicating itself is variations on the Myers Briggs Test results.*
*Which is a pretty strange thing to be meme-ing when you think about it.
And so not only are there people out there casually mentioning that they're INFP or BNSF or whatever, there is also a 'thing' wherein people map those Myers-Briggs Types onto the cast of popular TV shows/animals/etc.
In a sense it's really just the next progression from Survey Monkey and 'Which Character from Gilligan's Island are you?' quizzes*
*Lovie Howell, since you asked
But perhaps I should take this from the beginning.
The Myers-Briggs test (for those who have not had the pleasure) is a system for sorting general personality characteristics based on 4 opposition pairs.
1st - Are you (I)ntroverted or (E)xtroverted (this is pretty self-explanitory and I think most people have a pretty good sense of where they sit on this scale
2nd - Are you (S)ensing or i(N)tuitive - Because only 2 questions in and they've already run out of new letters to use, which seems like a lack of forward planning to me. Oversimplifying, this basically means - do you look strictly at the details or do you interpret things.
3rd - Are you (T)hinking or (F)eeling - which to oversimplify even more horribly means - do you make decisions with your brain or your heart
4th - Are you more prone to (J)udging or (P)erceiving. Or to continue oversimplifying - how 'down' are you with things being left open ended or unresolved.
Now that I've given aneurysms to anyone with any actual psychological training,
I'll get to my point.
If you accept that everyone falls broadly into one of the two categories in each question, then you can set up a Gregor Mendel* style 4X4 grid and plot out all the various combinations (there are 16 possible variations)
*Google him. You know you want to. One hint - 'Peas'
This is all well and good and has given countless HR departments endless joy running folk through the testing procedure. You get your results on a scale, so it isn't just a question of 'am I T or F, but exactly where on the continuum between the two you fall. Which allowed me to spend several days after taking the test to comment on the extent of my P-ness. Never. Stopped. Being. Funny.
However, lately I've noticed this 4x4 grid showing up mapped onto all sorts of whoo-ha. Which Downton Abbey character is your Myers-Briggs type, Which Animal is your Myers-Briggs type. Which commemorative wang of the founding fathers is your Myers-Briggs type, etc. etc.
The net result of this is that we've kind of forgotten about the whole sliding scale nature of the thing (and the implicit P-ness therein) and we seem to have decreed that everyone in the world is exactly one of these 16 personalities - no exceptions, no variations. You're either Maggie Smith or a meerkat, end of story.
And that, as I've mentioned before, is why I'm not a huge fan of memes in general. They seem like they allow you to be creative, but they always end up being limiting.
Tuesday, November 12, 2013
I am Curious (George)
Let's take a moment to talk about monkeys.
Cartoon Monkeys, obviously.
*For starters, and because I am physiologically incapable of not showing off by throwing this sort of thing out there - the title reference is to a Swedish film from 1967 called 'I am Curious (Yellow)' which sadly does not at any point feature a man in a Big Yellow Hat, but WAS once described by Roger Ebert as 'If you life movies about flaccid phallus's, this is the movie for you.'
Now it is a little known and rarely noted fact that I actually work at public television, but do not have any children. The combination of these two facts means that I'm aware of all the kids shows out there, but rarely if ever actually watch any of them. This means that until very recently my sum total of thoughts about our cartoon block was boiled down into two facts
1: The Kratt brothers are terrifying.
2: The people that animate Caillou piss me off because they don't draw in the background all the way to the edge of the screen, which is just irritating. Isn't the fact that the kid clearly has cancer enough for him to deal with without his world just stopping all around him?
In any case...
I attended an event recently dressed as the aforementioned Man in the Big Yellow Hat for reasons that aren't terribly relevant here and who are you to judge me anyway. Watching the Curious George video at this event, and reflecting back on the Curious George books that I remember from when I was young, I was struck by one though.
Holy Crap, The Man in the Big Yellow Hat totally abducted Curious George.
The book (the first one before anybody knew it was going to be a series) mentions the aforementioned Man (itBYH) going on a safari and finding George, then deciding to bring him home with him where George could be (as titled) 'curious' about things and get into wacky misadventures.
At no point does the book mention or depict George's parents, frantically swinging from vine to vine putting up 'Have you seen me' flyers, nor does it go into details of how he convinced George to get into his windowless panel van.
And so years go by, George lives with the Man having adventures and all that, clearly having a fatherly affection for the guy (This is called Stockholm Syndrome*, people). And here's a point worth noting - along with his actual name (it's 'Ted', for those interested in the Curious George Arcana) another thing that never gets mentioned is 'Ted's personal life. Because he apparently doesn't have one. At no point is there even an inkling of 'Mrs Ted' (or, as seems more likely once you start looking at it, 'Ted's boyfriend.)
*Amusingly, there is a whole swathe of people out there who refer to the phenomenon (developing feelings of loyalty or attraction to your kidnapper as a way of minimizing your sense of dis empowerment) as 'Helsinki Syndrome' solely because it was referred to (completely incorrectly) by that name in the movie 'Die Hard'. Which is, if nothing else, an object lesson in checking your sources.
The most insightful moment as regards 'Ted' actually comes in the occasional glimpses into his closet (insert cheap joke here). In an attempt to make an amusing inside joke about the way his iconic yellow outfit has changed in minor ways over the years, the cartoonists regularly show him to have a closet full of the exact same yellow suits and hats, all with minor variances to depict the slightly different ways he's been drawn over the years.
I think you'll agree that based on the evidence the answer is clear.
1: Monkey theft
2: repeated wearing of the identical outfit with only minor variances.
3: little to no apparent human inter-relationship and a tendency toward behavior repetition.
The Man in the Big Yellow Hat clearly is a high functioning Aspergers patient.
This does not, however, excuse kidnapping.
Cartoon Monkeys, obviously.
*For starters, and because I am physiologically incapable of not showing off by throwing this sort of thing out there - the title reference is to a Swedish film from 1967 called 'I am Curious (Yellow)' which sadly does not at any point feature a man in a Big Yellow Hat, but WAS once described by Roger Ebert as 'If you life movies about flaccid phallus's, this is the movie for you.'
Now it is a little known and rarely noted fact that I actually work at public television, but do not have any children. The combination of these two facts means that I'm aware of all the kids shows out there, but rarely if ever actually watch any of them. This means that until very recently my sum total of thoughts about our cartoon block was boiled down into two facts
1: The Kratt brothers are terrifying.
2: The people that animate Caillou piss me off because they don't draw in the background all the way to the edge of the screen, which is just irritating. Isn't the fact that the kid clearly has cancer enough for him to deal with without his world just stopping all around him?
In any case...
I attended an event recently dressed as the aforementioned Man in the Big Yellow Hat for reasons that aren't terribly relevant here and who are you to judge me anyway. Watching the Curious George video at this event, and reflecting back on the Curious George books that I remember from when I was young, I was struck by one though.
Holy Crap, The Man in the Big Yellow Hat totally abducted Curious George.
The book (the first one before anybody knew it was going to be a series) mentions the aforementioned Man (itBYH) going on a safari and finding George, then deciding to bring him home with him where George could be (as titled) 'curious' about things and get into wacky misadventures.
At no point does the book mention or depict George's parents, frantically swinging from vine to vine putting up 'Have you seen me' flyers, nor does it go into details of how he convinced George to get into his windowless panel van.
And so years go by, George lives with the Man having adventures and all that, clearly having a fatherly affection for the guy (This is called Stockholm Syndrome*, people). And here's a point worth noting - along with his actual name (it's 'Ted', for those interested in the Curious George Arcana) another thing that never gets mentioned is 'Ted's personal life. Because he apparently doesn't have one. At no point is there even an inkling of 'Mrs Ted' (or, as seems more likely once you start looking at it, 'Ted's boyfriend.)
*Amusingly, there is a whole swathe of people out there who refer to the phenomenon (developing feelings of loyalty or attraction to your kidnapper as a way of minimizing your sense of dis empowerment) as 'Helsinki Syndrome' solely because it was referred to (completely incorrectly) by that name in the movie 'Die Hard'. Which is, if nothing else, an object lesson in checking your sources.
The most insightful moment as regards 'Ted' actually comes in the occasional glimpses into his closet (insert cheap joke here). In an attempt to make an amusing inside joke about the way his iconic yellow outfit has changed in minor ways over the years, the cartoonists regularly show him to have a closet full of the exact same yellow suits and hats, all with minor variances to depict the slightly different ways he's been drawn over the years.
I think you'll agree that based on the evidence the answer is clear.
1: Monkey theft
2: repeated wearing of the identical outfit with only minor variances.
3: little to no apparent human inter-relationship and a tendency toward behavior repetition.
The Man in the Big Yellow Hat clearly is a high functioning Aspergers patient.
This does not, however, excuse kidnapping.
Don't change my routine.
Monday, November 4, 2013
Well. That Plan Certainly Ganged Aft Agley, now didn't it.
I don't recall if I've ever mentioned it, but Vizsla's love rearranging furniture.
So the other day, in amongst a fit of trying to get the stupid computer working again (a struggle which I ultimately won, as you will observe) I decided that the obvious approach to the problem was to rearrange the den.
Step one of this plan, for reasons that are far too complicated to go into here, was to clear off the bottom two shelves of a bookshelf on the far side of the room so that I could lovingly display the VHS copies of Doctor Who episodes circa 1963-1989 in broadcast order next to the shelves of the DVD releases of same.*
*Yes, I realize how sad that sounds typed out.
In any case, part of the rationale of clearing off the shelves was that I really do have a hell of a lot of books in the den that don't really need to be there and now live quite happily on a shelf in the basement. See, Doctor Who does fix everything.
So there I was, going through a buttload of P.D. James and Charlaine Harris and god knows what else, when I came across a small copy of Robert Burns' Tam O'Shanter (which as I recall I bought in a W.H. Smiths in Ayr, although I might be mistaken about that.)
Robert Burns, for those who are unfamiliar, was a Scottish poet (and so much more actually, but we'll keep it to the cliffnotes here) who - amongst other things - wrote a poem called, 'To a Mouse, On turning her up in her Nest, with the Plough, November, 1785.'
The title may not immediately ring any bells for you, however it's relatively certain that you've quoted it at some point, as this is the one that contains the bit about 'The Best Laid Plans of Mice and Men...'
The actual quote, second stanza from the end of the poem, runs thus-
Now it's a safe bet that a reasonable percentage of you just said - 'That's not how it goes' or 'I learned it went 'Go Oft Astray' or 'I'm only here for pictures of Markie Post in a bikini. Where are the pictures of Markie Post in a bikini?'
Robert Burns' primary contribution to poetry, literature, and art in general lies in this exact point. He was one of the first - if not the actual first - writers in modern English (ish) to say 'screw all that formal English, I'm going to write in the dialect that people actually speak.' Which is where all that so-called 'Mongrel' Gaelic blend 'Gang aft agley' business comes from. It means more or less 'go oft astray', but no one in the real world would actually ever put it that formally. In 1785 Scotland they would have said 'Gang Aft Agley', and so that's how Robert was Damn Well going to write it, formality and convention be damned. He was tearing down the artificial distinction between 'legitimate' 'highbrow' language and the low-brow 'common' way that actual human beings spoke to one another. If you don't see why this appeals to me, allow me to refer you to Vizsla versus the Myth of High and Low culture, 17 Limericks about Orthography, and several other previous columns.
It's also worth noting that this is the same poem that gave the world (and Russell T. Davies) the phrase 'Tim'rous beastie', Which means that Burns is responsible however indirectly for John Steinback, Eddie Izzard and Tooth and Claw.
The point of the poem, should anyone care is that Robert was out plowing his field, accidentally ran over a mouse hole, thus destroying the tim'rous beastie in questions home, and basically spend a few pages saying, 'wow. Sucks man. You spent all that time building a nice house and somebody just comes along and screws it up for you. Just goes to show, no matter how hard you plan things can still go wrong. That's why it's a mistake to try. Or care about anything.'*
*That last part is merely implied.
All of which is my way of leading up to the revelation that the diet isn't going terribly well.
To bring us all up to speed - Previously on: The 42nd Vizsla - I announced that I was attempting this 30 days with no carbs and no sugar thing despite the many reasons why that was a horrible idea.
Day 1 - All went well.
Day 2 - did pretty well until about 10:30 pm at which point I determined that I could not carry on working on my Halloween costume without a glass of scotch. (In my defense, I was nearly done and the cuffs were kicking my ass.
Day 3 - Was a weekend. Can of Soda on the way to a work event. Large soda at the work event. Large Scotch after the work event (In my defense, it was a kids movie screening. I defy anyone working such an event to not have a largish drink afterwards.
Day 4 - Sunday. Well, the weekend was already shot anyway...
Day 5 - Back on the wagon. Until early evening when we had a chicken with rice hot dish, but it was delicious and I don't regret a thing.
Day 8 - Work Halloween party. Then Halloween. The predictable occurs
Day 9-12 - Who are you to judge me.
And so... I have to decree the great no crab/no sugar event of 2013 to be less than an entire rousing success.
BUT...
I have cut pop intake down to less than a can every other day
I haven't actually had any carbs at work since I started - it turns out the vending machine has almonds.
It actually got me to start working out daily again.
So, all things being equal, it can't be said to be a total failure either.
Now I just have to deal with this guy who just drove a plow through my house...
So the other day, in amongst a fit of trying to get the stupid computer working again (a struggle which I ultimately won, as you will observe) I decided that the obvious approach to the problem was to rearrange the den.
Step one of this plan, for reasons that are far too complicated to go into here, was to clear off the bottom two shelves of a bookshelf on the far side of the room so that I could lovingly display the VHS copies of Doctor Who episodes circa 1963-1989 in broadcast order next to the shelves of the DVD releases of same.*
*Yes, I realize how sad that sounds typed out.
In any case, part of the rationale of clearing off the shelves was that I really do have a hell of a lot of books in the den that don't really need to be there and now live quite happily on a shelf in the basement. See, Doctor Who does fix everything.
So there I was, going through a buttload of P.D. James and Charlaine Harris and god knows what else, when I came across a small copy of Robert Burns' Tam O'Shanter (which as I recall I bought in a W.H. Smiths in Ayr, although I might be mistaken about that.)
Robert Burns, for those who are unfamiliar, was a Scottish poet (and so much more actually, but we'll keep it to the cliffnotes here) who - amongst other things - wrote a poem called, 'To a Mouse, On turning her up in her Nest, with the Plough, November, 1785.'
The title may not immediately ring any bells for you, however it's relatively certain that you've quoted it at some point, as this is the one that contains the bit about 'The Best Laid Plans of Mice and Men...'
The actual quote, second stanza from the end of the poem, runs thus-
But Mousie, thou art no thy-lane
In proving foresight may be vain:
The best laid schemes o' Mice and Men
Gang aft agley,
An' lae'e us nought but grief an' pain,
For promis'd joy
Now it's a safe bet that a reasonable percentage of you just said - 'That's not how it goes' or 'I learned it went 'Go Oft Astray' or 'I'm only here for pictures of Markie Post in a bikini. Where are the pictures of Markie Post in a bikini?'
Robert Burns' primary contribution to poetry, literature, and art in general lies in this exact point. He was one of the first - if not the actual first - writers in modern English (ish) to say 'screw all that formal English, I'm going to write in the dialect that people actually speak.' Which is where all that so-called 'Mongrel' Gaelic blend 'Gang aft agley' business comes from. It means more or less 'go oft astray', but no one in the real world would actually ever put it that formally. In 1785 Scotland they would have said 'Gang Aft Agley', and so that's how Robert was Damn Well going to write it, formality and convention be damned. He was tearing down the artificial distinction between 'legitimate' 'highbrow' language and the low-brow 'common' way that actual human beings spoke to one another. If you don't see why this appeals to me, allow me to refer you to Vizsla versus the Myth of High and Low culture, 17 Limericks about Orthography, and several other previous columns.
It's also worth noting that this is the same poem that gave the world (and Russell T. Davies) the phrase 'Tim'rous beastie', Which means that Burns is responsible however indirectly for John Steinback, Eddie Izzard and Tooth and Claw.
The point of the poem, should anyone care is that Robert was out plowing his field, accidentally ran over a mouse hole, thus destroying the tim'rous beastie in questions home, and basically spend a few pages saying, 'wow. Sucks man. You spent all that time building a nice house and somebody just comes along and screws it up for you. Just goes to show, no matter how hard you plan things can still go wrong. That's why it's a mistake to try. Or care about anything.'*
*That last part is merely implied.
All of which is my way of leading up to the revelation that the diet isn't going terribly well.
To bring us all up to speed - Previously on: The 42nd Vizsla - I announced that I was attempting this 30 days with no carbs and no sugar thing despite the many reasons why that was a horrible idea.
Day 1 - All went well.
Day 2 - did pretty well until about 10:30 pm at which point I determined that I could not carry on working on my Halloween costume without a glass of scotch. (In my defense, I was nearly done and the cuffs were kicking my ass.
Day 3 - Was a weekend. Can of Soda on the way to a work event. Large soda at the work event. Large Scotch after the work event (In my defense, it was a kids movie screening. I defy anyone working such an event to not have a largish drink afterwards.
Day 4 - Sunday. Well, the weekend was already shot anyway...
Day 5 - Back on the wagon. Until early evening when we had a chicken with rice hot dish, but it was delicious and I don't regret a thing.
Day 8 - Work Halloween party. Then Halloween. The predictable occurs
Day 9-12 - Who are you to judge me.
And so... I have to decree the great no crab/no sugar event of 2013 to be less than an entire rousing success.
BUT...
I have cut pop intake down to less than a can every other day
I haven't actually had any carbs at work since I started - it turns out the vending machine has almonds.
It actually got me to start working out daily again.
So, all things being equal, it can't be said to be a total failure either.
Now I just have to deal with this guy who just drove a plow through my house...
Sunday, October 27, 2013
Vizsla Flashback - The Elephant Seal thing is probably going to have a negative impact on tourism...
Back on the Halcyon days of July 12th, I posted the following in response to the previous days discussion (17 Limericks about Orthography)
Enjoy--
The Elephant Seal thing is probably going to have a negative impact on tourism...
The original intention for today was to do 17 orthographic thoughts about Limerick (The City), but I soon discovered that I didn't really have 17 orthographically themed thoughts about Limerick (The City) outside of the fact that in Irish it's name is Luimneach, and thanks to The Lord of the Rings everything written out in Irish looks like it's supposed to be sung by magical elves.
Enjoy--
The Elephant Seal thing is probably going to have a negative impact on tourism...
The original intention for today was to do 17 orthographic thoughts about Limerick (The City), but I soon discovered that I didn't really have 17 orthographically themed thoughts about Limerick (The City) outside of the fact that in Irish it's name is Luimneach, and thanks to The Lord of the Rings everything written out in Irish looks like it's supposed to be sung by magical elves.
"Poguuuuuue MaHONE.....Ta lourahlourahlourah!"
*It's also apparently in the province of Munster, which is just neat
What I did however discover in my admittedly sparce research, is that the center portion of the city is actually an Island (the river cuts around it on either side) which is now known as Kings Island.
But originally it was called Inis an Ghaill Duibh (insert singing elves here) which translates to 'The Dark Haired Foreigner's Island', which I'm choosing to interpret as evidence that at some point around 812 AD the island was visited by the Second Doctor.
The point that I'm trying to circle in on here - Before we started thinking about the naming of things as a formalized process, people just called things by whatever reference that they had on hand and everyone else was sort of ok with it. And so you ended up with place names along the lines of 'The smallish hill next to that mean ladies house', or 'The beach where Joe got raped by that Elephant Seal'
Which reminds me a time a few years ago where someone was trying to publish a map of Olde London Towne circa the time of the Great Fire (That would be September 1666 for those Americans in the audience who might be forgiven for never having heard of the event as it didn't happen to us so why would we bother knowing about it.)
The problem that they ran into while putting the map together is that there were a number of streets whose names were a little more on the 'colorful' side than we modern folk are used to seeing. 'Shithouse Street' being one of the tamer examples that they actually were able to get away with printing.
In the Continental US things are a little different. We don't have a thousand odd years of living here to have gotten used to the old names just sticking around. Place names in the US are typically a zesty mixture of ridiculously optimistic praise selected by settlers who were just happy to have finally freakin' arrived at the damn place ( 'Eden Prairie', 'Golden Valley', 'New Hope', etc.), and adopted titles from the Athapaskan of Algonquin names for the region ('Shakopee', 'Keewatin', et al., which by and large probably are along the lines of 'the smallish hill by that mean woman's house', but since we don't speak the languages in question we simply don't notice. That said, Shakopee could equally well be Ojibwe for 'Look at me, I'm a stupid pale moron who like to eat butt' and they just told the settlers it was someone's name as some sort of elaborate practical joke. In fact, I kind of hope it does, now that I think of it.)
Look out for those elephant seals
-Vizsla Out
What I did however discover in my admittedly sparce research, is that the center portion of the city is actually an Island (the river cuts around it on either side) which is now known as Kings Island.
But originally it was called Inis an Ghaill Duibh (insert singing elves here) which translates to 'The Dark Haired Foreigner's Island', which I'm choosing to interpret as evidence that at some point around 812 AD the island was visited by the Second Doctor.
The point that I'm trying to circle in on here - Before we started thinking about the naming of things as a formalized process, people just called things by whatever reference that they had on hand and everyone else was sort of ok with it. And so you ended up with place names along the lines of 'The smallish hill next to that mean ladies house', or 'The beach where Joe got raped by that Elephant Seal'
Which reminds me a time a few years ago where someone was trying to publish a map of Olde London Towne circa the time of the Great Fire (That would be September 1666 for those Americans in the audience who might be forgiven for never having heard of the event as it didn't happen to us so why would we bother knowing about it.)
The problem that they ran into while putting the map together is that there were a number of streets whose names were a little more on the 'colorful' side than we modern folk are used to seeing. 'Shithouse Street' being one of the tamer examples that they actually were able to get away with printing.
In the Continental US things are a little different. We don't have a thousand odd years of living here to have gotten used to the old names just sticking around. Place names in the US are typically a zesty mixture of ridiculously optimistic praise selected by settlers who were just happy to have finally freakin' arrived at the damn place ( 'Eden Prairie', 'Golden Valley', 'New Hope', etc.), and adopted titles from the Athapaskan of Algonquin names for the region ('Shakopee', 'Keewatin', et al., which by and large probably are along the lines of 'the smallish hill by that mean woman's house', but since we don't speak the languages in question we simply don't notice. That said, Shakopee could equally well be Ojibwe for 'Look at me, I'm a stupid pale moron who like to eat butt' and they just told the settlers it was someone's name as some sort of elaborate practical joke. In fact, I kind of hope it does, now that I think of it.)
Look out for those elephant seals
-Vizsla Out
Saturday, September 21, 2013
It's called an Interjection. Now go wash your mouth out with soap
It's bothered me for a long time now that they no longer teach kids Interjections in US schools.
Apparently at some point along the route from New Math to No Child Left Behind and on to Common Core we decided that we didn't really have time to go over all the parts of speech. So these days we pretty much just go over your Nouns and your Verbs, maybe taking an adjective in along the way if we have some free time.
Which means that all over the country kids are dropping the F-bomb and having no idea how they would diagram the sentence if asked to do so.
A helpful overview of our friend the Interjection can be found here.
Damnit, It's about standards.
And yes - children of today - we really did use to get shots in the behind. The 70s were a strange and frightening place.
Apparently at some point along the route from New Math to No Child Left Behind and on to Common Core we decided that we didn't really have time to go over all the parts of speech. So these days we pretty much just go over your Nouns and your Verbs, maybe taking an adjective in along the way if we have some free time.
Which means that all over the country kids are dropping the F-bomb and having no idea how they would diagram the sentence if asked to do so.
A helpful overview of our friend the Interjection can be found here.
Damnit, It's about standards.
And yes - children of today - we really did use to get shots in the behind. The 70s were a strange and frightening place.
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