Ephemera

If so, check out this gallery, drawn from this book. If that doesn't change your mind, at least try to outdo those, so the rest of us can have a really good laugh behind your back.

Posted by Hitch at 08:51 AM | Permalink

(Although, I'm pretty sure no one looks at this page. So it won't do much.)

Posted by Hitch at 11:56 AM | Permalink

Posted by Hitch at 01:43 PM | Permalink

... bring on the "Underwear perverts!"

Boing Boing: Marvel Comics: stealing our language

Posted by Hitch at 12:54 PM | Permalink

I'll start off by admitting that I took this completely out of context.

Yeah, that clears everything up.

This is from a forun discussing Bigfoot. The subject is the Patterson-Gimlin film. (Famous bit of film of a purported sasquatch walking along a creek bed next to some woods). The matter being discussed in this particular thread was whether or not the figure in the film bared it's teeth at a particular point. Some think they see them, others don't, and some think they're just an artifact of lighting or film grain. Someone posted this as clarification for their point of view.

I think I know why people are still debating this film 37 years after the fact.

Posted by Hitch at 12:41 PM | Permalink

Macon Telegraph | 01/05/2006 | When it comes to tree recycling, sometimes less is more

Some folks apparently don't understand the concept of recycling.

Otherwise, Laura Jackson and other Macon Public Works employees wouldn't spend a chunk of their post-Christmas work days wrestling with Christmas trees.

Jackson was at Central City Park on Wednesday morning stripping strings of lights from trees that had been discarded - still partially decorated.

and

Those wanting to discard an old artificial tree should simply put it in the garbage. They aren't recycled, White said.

I would ask, "what are these people thinking?" But I know that they just aren't. I'm not sure they're capable of it, and I'm sure they don't want to. Physical laziness is bad enough, but when you're too lazy to even think about what you're doing...

...that's sad.

Posted by Hitch at 12:27 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Macon Telegraph | 01/02/2006 | No bead-tossing allowed

"Atlanta residents, unaccustomed to such unrestricted activities, might have suffered a degree of mental trauma should someone glimpse a partially unclad female form."

What about the mental trauma of being denied the opportunity to glimpse a partially unclad female form?

Posted by Hitch at 10:45 PM | Permalink

Moderator: We're here today to debate the hot new topic, evolution versus Intelligent Des---

(Scientist pulls out baseball bat.)

Moderator: Hey, what are you doing?

(Scientist breaks Intelligent Design advocate's kneecap.)

Intelligent Design advocate: YEAAARRRRGGGHHHH! YOU BROKE MY KNEECAP!

Scientist: Perhaps it only appears that I broke your kneecap. Certainly, all the evidence points to the hypothesis I broke your kneecap. For example, your kneecap is broken; it appears to be a fresh wound; and I am holding a baseball bat, which is spattered with your blood. However, a mere preponderance of evidence doesn't mean anything. Perhaps your kneecap was designed that way. Certainly, there are some features of the current situation that are inexplicable according to the "naturalistic" explanation you have just advanced, such as the exact contours of the excruciating pain that you are experiencing right now.

Intelligent Design advocate: AAAAH! THE PAIN!

Scientist: Frankly, I personally find it completely implausible that the random actions of a scientist such as myself could cause pain of this particular kind. I have no precise explanation for why I find this hypothesis implausible --- it just is. Your knee must have been designed that way!

Intelligent Design advocate: YOU BASTARD! YOU KNOW YOU DID IT!

Scientist: I surely do not. How can we know anything for certain? Frankly, I think we should expose people to all points of view. Furthermore, you should really re-examine whether your hypothesis is scientific at all: the breaking of your kneecap happened in the past, so we can't rewind and run it over again, like a laboratory experiment. Even if we could, it wouldn't prove that I broke your kneecap the previous time. Plus, let's not even get into the fact that the entire universe might have just popped into existence right before I said this sentence, with all the evidence of my alleged kneecap-breaking already pre-formed.

Intelligent Design advocate: That's a load of bullpoop sophistry! Get me a doctor and a lawyer, not necessarily in that order, and we'll see how that plays in court!

Scientist (turning to audience): And so we see, ladies and gentlemen, when push comes to shove, advocates of Intelligent Design do not actually believe any of the arguments that they profess to believe. When it comes to matters that hit home, they prefer evidence, the scientific method, testable hypotheses, and naturalistic explanations. In fact, they strongly privilege naturalistic explanations over supernatural hocus-pocus or metaphysical wankery. It is only within the reality-distortion field of their ideological crusade that they give credence to the flimsy, ridiculous arguments which we so commonly see on display. I must confess, it kind of felt good, for once, to be the one spouting free-form bullshit; it's so terribly easy and relaxing, compared to marshaling rigorous arguments backed up by empirical evidence. But I fear that if I were to continue, then it would be habit-forming, and bad for my soul. Therefore, I bid you adieu.

----------------

(I stole this. I hope Rizz forgives me -- it's too good not to share.)

Posted by Hitch at 07:09 PM | Permalink

I had one of those seriously not fun evenings on the computer last night. I’m still not sure, but I may have paid the price for practicing unsafe computing. It was majorly pooched and may have been the result of viral interactions.

Basically, I didn’t have Explorer. Not Internet Explorer – I don’t use that – Windows Explorer. I had to figure out how to do anything without that. It took me a few minutes to figure out how to limp around and get it to do enough that I could work on fixing it.

The Windows Recovery System worked every bit as well as you would expect from Microsoft… It made things much worse, without improving the situation at all. After attempting to use that to correct the problem, I had no display at all. But I could tell from the sound that it still wasn’t working correctly. That added another 60 – 90 minutes as I figured out how to undo what it did.

To make a boring story shorter, I eventually got Explorer back and things mostly seem to be working. So far two programs have required quick and painless re-installs in the aftermath of this. I have no idea how many more things like that I’ll find before things are 100%. But if Murphy has anything to say about it, I’ll have brand new problems before I find and correct all of the ones I currently have.

Posted by Hitch at 08:48 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

I get bored with desktop wallpapers pretty quickly. I change mine a lot. I frequently gank images off Earth Science Picture of the Day to use as my wallpaper. I like landscapes. So... I've been playing a game for several hours and when I finally shut that down to do something else, I look at my desktop. My first thought... "It's still daylight?" I don't know why I expected the jpeg to change, just seemed like it should.

Posted by Hitch at 12:41 AM | Permalink

Okay, you’re a guy. That means you hate playing dress-up. But somebody wants you to go to a Halloween party. How do you get away with not wearing a costume? The answer, the generic, universal costume for guys who hate costumes -- namely a plain black suit, white dress shirt, black tie, and shiny black shoes. How is that a costume? Accessories.

Start with a pair of black Ray-Ban Wayfarer sunglasses and a fedora – you’re a Blues Brother.

Okay, lose the fedora and change the style of sunglasses a bit and you’re a Man in Black.

Really update the sunglasses to something modern and add an earpiece and suddenly you’re an Agent from the Matrix.

And now you can add a pair of blue latex gloves and you’re an Alliance Operative from Firefly.

I’m sure with a little thought even more variations are possible. But it’s easy to see that ordinary clothes can qualify as at least four different costumes.

Posted by Hitch at 12:33 PM | Permalink

I drink coffee black... no sugar. But when I see something like this...

... I'm really happy about that.

How to make good coffee?

Posted by Hitch at 08:38 AM | Permalink

In case you haven't heard, scriptwriters for reality TV shows want to join the Writers Guild of America.

Go back and read that again, if you don't see the significance.

Scriptwriters...

... for reality TV shows.

An oxymoron to be sure, but one that's been obvious to anyone with a brain for years. Which doesn't include (and forgive me for pointing out a painful truth) anyone who watches and enjoys that crap.

In case you think I'm making this up (it's actually the writers of your favorite reality show that are making stuff up), here's a link. Reality TV Extra

Posted by Hitch at 09:37 AM | Permalink

I hate it when people post about their dreams as if they have any significance whatsoever, so that’s exactly what I’m going to do today. I had a particularly vivid and amusing dream this morning just as I was waking up.

It started with hair. Perhaps unsurprisingly, I’ve dreamt about hair not infrequently in the past four years. (For those of you who don’t know that’s how long it’s been since I shaved my head.) As is typical of hair dreams I suddenly find myself with a full head of hair. It seems I’d been away for a long weekend and after five days of not shaving; I had a full head of glossy black hair down to my shoulders. Never mind that I had a growth of hair that would probably take two years rather than five days, it was thick and full in areas that my hair wasn’t thick or full for years before shaving my head, and I never had black hair in the first place. The odd part was it was hanging in my face, so I pulled it back into a ponytail and when I looked in a mirror to check it, it was now blond. (I never had blond hair either.) I experimented by letting it out – black, and pulling it back again – blond. At this point I realized it was a dream.

So I did what made perfect sense in the dream, I went to find the friends that I was on vacation with to show them what I could do in my dream. They were totally unimpressed. Being creatures of dream themselves they were impervious to the illogic of such a thing. It made perfect sense to them for my hair to change color. My obsession with it did concern them, however. They suggested it might be best if we went back to the motel.

Arriving at the motel, I was severely disappointed in myself for dreaming such a ratty little place for us to stay. It was cheap and tiny looking. Our rooms were on the second floor. There was bare a concrete walkway outside with a rusting metal railing and a wall of doors on the other side. No windows, just doors -- door after door with virtually no space between them. The rooms couldn’t be more than six feet wide.

I resignedly entered my room to discover a large, airy, well-furnished living room quite impossibly large for the space apparent from the outside. Sofa, love seat, multiple chairs, bookcases, an entertainment center, and a darkened hallway opposite the door I just came in. I walked to the hallway and turn on a light to discover an equally impressive bedroom.

At that point I was overcome with an immediate need to urinate. This is not unusual in my dreams – my real world bladder will make itself felt in my dream state. Typically, I’ll find myself struggling with ridiculous obstacles to a basic biological function. Most often my dreams will not include an utter lack of appropriate facilities. So, with some trepidation, I opened the door that would logically lead to the bathroom. I expected, at best, a tiny, wholly inadequate motel type bathroom – or more likely, nothing at all. Instead I found once again and large fully functional room like one would expect in a large luxurious home.

That necessity taken care of, I decided to explore a bit more. I’d noticed one other door that I couldn’t figure out what it would be for. I opened it and, at first, thought I’d found a small utility closet. Fumbling for a light switch I discovered yet another impossibly large room. This was like a semi-furnished unfinished basement rec room. I was puzzling over both why such a thing would exist as part of a cheesy motel suite and how they’d managed to cram such a thing in the space available when I became aware that there was someone in the next room.

I headed out to be greeted by a large black man in a uniform standing in the doorway. He started asking me about “the money.” He said it just that way. I could hear the quote marks. This didn’t make sense. There was no “the money” in this dream. Thinking about it, I realized that it was $50,000 and it was from some completely different dream. I started trying to explain that to him, but he was even less capable of comprehending that he was a character in a dream than my friends who’d so utterly failed to grasp the dream-like quality of my color-changing hair. I was about to get frustrated with him when I woke up.

Posted by Hitch at 02:40 PM | Permalink | Comments (6)

I found this in the trivia section of the IMDB.

Before Christopher Nolan took over, director Darren Aronofsky was attached to make a Batman movie based on the graphic novel "Batman: Year One" and have the author Frank Miller write the screenplay. By 2003 there was a first draft screenplay with story boards, which are properties of AOL Time Warner. Warner's decision for not producing the film is unknown, but based on the details that have since leaked out, it would probably have to do with the screenplay, which strayed a considerable amount from the source material, making Alfred an African-American mechanic named "Big Al," the Batmobile being a suped-up Lncoln Towncar, and Bruce Wayne being homeless, among other things. This is all detailed in David Hughes' book "Tales from Development Hell."

We liked Sin City and a lot of the credit for that apparently belongs to Frank Miller, but why does he write stuff like this? Or Dark Knight Strikes Again? Has he decided he hates superheroes even more than Garth Ennis? Or is he just determined to crap all over anything he didn't create himself? Whatever the case is, please don't let him near Batman -- ever again.

Posted by Hitch at 09:59 PM | Permalink

I just read the absurd assertion that Be Cool is one of the worst movies ever made.

Hogwash! In the annals of bad movie making Be Cool barely scratches the surface, let alone plumbs the depths. But, I can understand someone being quite disappointed in Be Cool if they really liked Get Shorty and were expecting to see another movie of that caliber. There are a few things you have to realize before going to see a movie like Be Cool to put it in perspective:

Sequels always suck. (Yes – there are a few exceptions to this, but few enough that it still works as a rule of thumb. (And this rule goes double for prequels, but that’s another matter.))

F. Gary Gray is no Barry Sonnenfeld.

Harvey Keitel is no Gene Hackman.

Uma Thurman is no Rene Russo.

Cedric the Entertainer is no Delroy Lindo.

The Rock is no James Gandolfini.

Danny DeVito is, in fact, Danny DeVito. (But he’s barely in Be Cool.)

Robert Pastorelli may, or may not, have been David Paymer, but who cares?

Andre Benjamin, Vince Vaughn, and Christina Milian do not equal Dennis Farina, Miguel Sandoval, and Bette Midler.

And most importantly…

John Travolta is no John Travolta. (That is, he’s well on his way to becoming the John Travolta of Look Who’s Talking again as opposed to John Travolta of Pulp Fiction.)

All this considered, I went in expecting to see a horrible movie. I just wanted to see how bad it really was. I was pleasantly surprised. Bits of the movie were quite enjoyable and none was overly offensive.

Perspective is everthing.

Posted by Hitch at 10:43 AM | Permalink | Comments (3)

nail warning

I think someone was feeling a little punchy by the time they got around to the "supplemental warning."

Posted by Hitch at 12:10 AM | Permalink

...it's becoming too politically touchy of subject.

I came across this article today: Scientist decries moral audacity of environmentalists linking tsunami and global warming

My favorite paragraph:

In his new book, State of Fear, Michael Crichton repeatedly demonstrates that global warming ambulance-chasers often assume things to be true that simply are not. The book centers around a lawsuit by pacific islanders because of sea level rise; their case falls apart when the facts disclose that sea levels were actually falling in the region in question. Life imitates fiction. Michael Crichton should sue environmentalists who blame the massive death toll from the Indian Ocean's tragic tsunamis on sea level rise for plagiarism."

BTW: I'm midway through the book. It's pretty good. But, then again, I like Critchon's writing. I even enjoy the bad ones.

Posted by Hitch at 08:15 PM | Permalink

"Whenever I watch TV and see those poor starving kids all over the world, I can't help but cry. I mean I'd love to be skinny like that but not with all those flies and death and stuff."
— Mariah Carey

I wish I could believe someone was putting words in her mouth.

Posted by Hitch at 11:32 AM | Permalink

Listen up, people. It's just a cheezy Tim Burton holiday movie, it's not a freakin' lifestyle!

Posted by Hitch at 09:36 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

I dreamed the other night that I had hair. It's weird. I don't miss my hair. I shaved it off for a reason after carefully considering it. Okay, I was sick and running a fever at the time I did it and my judgment was somewhat impaired. So I had much more difficulty than if I'd planned it out properly. But, it was something I was thinking about doing -- with a clear mind -- for some time before then. It's just I was running a fever and sweating constantly, so it seemed a good time to take the plunge.

Anyway, I occasionally dream of hair. Usually, I've been too busy to shave for several days (in the dream) and my hair has grown back faster that is rationally possible. This will present problems like locating a comb, or, as was the case the other day, a ponytail holder. Yes, in no more than a week, my hair had grown so long that I needed to pull it back in a ponytail. That would not surprise people who've known me long enough. Before I did away with hair completely, I used to frequently wear it quite long.

It's amazing how thick and full my hair is in these dreams. It was never really that good in real life. Which is amusing when I think back on the complements I would get on my hair. (Women will say any stupid thing when flirting.) If I tried to grow it out now, it would be incredibly thin and sparse on top. The main reason I shave my head is, I feel that bald is a much better look than a comb-over.

I don't miss my hair. It was never that good. So, it's odd that I have these dreams.

Posted by Hitch at 02:18 PM | Permalink

A few weeks ago I was eating at Cracker Barrel (a countrified casual dining restaurant). I was drinking unsweetened tea. (Note of explanation for non-southerners: In Georgia, and several surrounding states, the default procedure for making iced tea involves dissolving copious amounts of sugar into the tea between the brewing and cooling process. This makes for a very bizarre, and to most members of the civilized world, undrinkable concoction. So, when ordering tea, to avoid this horror, one must specify that you would like your tea "unsweetened." They just assume you plan to dump large quantities of artificial sweetener in to "fix" it.) Anyway, my glass had become empty (nothing mysterious, I'd just drunk my tea). This is unusual, because they're normally quite good about keeping the drinks topped off. My waitress must have been busy at another table. I looked around to see if I could catch her eye and let her know that I'd like a refill. One of the other servers spotted me and correctly deduced the situation. She came up and asked me what I was drinking. I told her and she stepped into the kitchen and returned a moment later with a pitcher to refill my glass. That's when the trouble started.

The waitress who had been serving me came up as soon as the other server had left and informed me that I had the wrong kind of tea. Since the other server had specifically asked what I was drinking immediately before filling my glass, I found that hard to believe. I tasted the tea and informed the waitress that everything was fine.

"But the pitcher was the wrong color." (They use clear pitchers for the unsweetened tea and amber colored ones for the nasty brown sugar water.)

"It's fine, trust me."

In a display of almost supernatural alertness, a manager was immediately at the table to ask what the problem was. I tried to assure him that there was no problem but the waitress pulled him aside and the two consulted privately in hushed tones.

The manager then looked up and spotted the extremely helpful, polite, and accurate server who'd seen to my needs by bringing exactly the right beverage to refill my glass.

He rushed over to have a brief, quiet, but extremely animated conversation with her. Which led to the helpful server coming to my table to apologize for giving me exactly what I'd asked for. Apparently, I was supposed to have been highly distressed by my drink being poured out of the wrong color pitcher. It was obvious the apology was much more for the manager's benefit than my own, so I gave up and accepted her apology.

Same restaurant, different day, different server.

I'd gone in one Tuesday about 2:30 to 3:00 in the afternoon. Looking at the menu I saw a list of daily lunch specials, a different item each day of the week. The Tuesday meatloaf looked interesting, but I noticed the lunch specials were available from 11 AM until they run out.

My waitress comes over and I decide to ask first, "Is the meatloaf still available?'

"Meatloaf?"

"Yes, the daily lunch special -- do you still have it?" I said, pointing at the menu.

"Oh that. That's only available on Tuesday."

"And that would be why I'm asking."

Blank stare.

"… because this is Tuesday."

"Oh my! That's why people keep asking for it. I've been telling them we don't have any. How embarrassing."

"So, I can assume your refusal to serve it so far means there IS some available?'

"Oh yes! Please don't laugh at me."

Naturally, I was unable to comply with that last request.

Posted by Hitch at 12:55 PM | Permalink

A friend of mine went to see Troy last week. He now regrets that decision. He's a history and Greek mythology buff and was quite annoyed at the things they changed for the movie. From what I've heard, most other people aren't even aware that anything was changed. I wouldn't be surprised if most people weren't aware that it's not a new story.

Which got me thinking (and that's always dangerous)…

Maybe it's time for Titanic II: The Second Voyage. I can see it now… A couple days after the first movie ends, a salvage crew manages to bring the Titanic back to the surface and tow it to port for repairs. As the time approaches to re-launch it the controversy builds. Most people are afraid to sail on her. Others are saying it's a bad idea to even try and they should have never re-built the ship. But, as the hero points out, "If we don't sail this ship again… THE ICEBERGS WIN!!!"

I could sell this… and that's what scares me.

Posted by khitch at 09:56 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

BBC NEWS | Americas | Diners chew over $1,000 omelette

I'm tempted to say "only in America" but it seems the only one to have bought this so far (at least at the time the article was written) is British. Picky details like that notwithstanding, I'm sure it elevates our image in the rest of the world to see such extravagant items on our menus.

It's good to know that whole world hunger thing has finally been solved.

(Okay, someone help me out here. I'm sure the French or Japanese can challenge or beat this. Find me some examples of even more wastefully overpriced cuisine somewhere else in the world.)

Posted by khitch at 01:40 PM | Permalink

It has a light side
It has a dark side
It binds the universe together

I say that first line to kids these days (and by "kids" I mean late teens to early 20s -- yes, I'm an old fart) and they just smile and nod. But looking into their eyes I see the same lack on comprehension that is their permanent state it seems. "You don't know what I mean do you?"

"Yeah. Uh… no. Not really."

So then I tell them the rest of it, and the very brightest of them get it. Others I have to draw a picture and explain all the details. Finally at some point the light comes on. They experience the shining revelation that there was a point to my seemingly random and illogical comment.

Suddenly, they wake up out of their stupefied existence and embrace a whole new, wide world of subtlety and nuance. They stop taking everything and face value and question what they hear and strive to understand the deeper meaning of human speech.

No. I'm lying. They just go back to nodding and smiling whenever they hear something they don't understand. They're pretty sure it supposed to be a joke, so they laugh. They think it makes them seem clever, but they don't realize they the dumbest thing you can do is laugh at a joke you don't get.

They ask a question and get "42" as the answer. It doesn't make any sense. They have no idea why the person would say that. They nod and laugh. But their eyes give them away. The clue light stays off. Suddenly they've become the punch line.

But, I'm not just talking about dumb kids -- the ones who'll have a hard time mastering the most important phrase of their life: "You want fries with that?" But, supposedly smart, well educated students -- this generations the brightest and the best.

When I was in High School, I was an average student. My math classes by year were Algebra I, Geometry, Algebra II, and Trigonometry. That's as far as I got. Not because I was dumb -- because I was average. Today, I hear students taking AP (advanced placement) Calculus II in high school. That should be a second year college course by the standards I went to school under. But ask them to do simple math. "Okay, six times eight, plus seven, what's that?"

Tell them "42." They'll believe you. When you laugh, they'll pull out a calculator and still get it wrong. But somehow they're passing math classes I never got to. How is this possible?

I weep for the future. Not the future to come, but the one I'm living in now. This is the 21st century. I was brought up to expect flying cars and personal jet packs. But, no, I was reading the wrong books. I should have paid more attention to H. G. Wells. I'm living in a society that's rapidly being taken over by Morlocks.

PS: Bizarre synchronicity. The blogging software I use for this throws up random quotes at the bottom on the page. When I previewed this the first time, the quote I got was: "The future is not something we enter. The future is something we create."—Leonard Sweet

We have to do better.

Posted by khitch at 11:14 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

:blush:

Yahoo! News - Police: Woman Tried to Pass Fake $1M Bill

Some people would probably read this as a stupid criminal story, I think it's just a stupid 'person' story. She probably sincerely believed she had a one million dollar bill. Futhermore, I have no doubt she expected to get $998,325 in change back out of the till at Wal-mart. Wal-mart for chrissakes! If I'm going on a shopping spree with a million dollars, I think I could find someplace better than Wal-mart to spend it. Sheesh.

Oh well, this is the land of, "I'm gonna buy me a double-wide and move to Alabama."

Posted by khitch at 11:42 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

I lost a contact lens yesterday. I don't know how. It just… vanished. I had taken my lenses out and thrown them away Monday night. Then yesterday, I put a new pair in. First the right -- no problem, then the left. Then I looked around and something wasn't right. I could see fine out of my left eye, but the right was like I didn't have a lens in. I checked. I didn't. It didn't make sense that it had come out. I would have noticed. But it definitely wasn't in my eye. I couldn't find anywhere that it had fallen out. I just had to get another one and put it in. I have no idea where that first lens went.

Posted by khitch at 09:32 PM | Permalink

(This is not my own story. It may be true, but it didn't happen to me. It just works better to tell it in first person. And Jimmy probably wasn't Jimmy's real name.)

Some of the members of the resident's association in my neighborhood want to put speed bumps in the streets. It's a quiet area and kids like to play in the street. They don't want any children getting hurt. I can understand that, but speed bumps are a nuisance, they can damage cars, and we need to teach kids not to play in traffic -- not make traffic safer for kids to play in.

When I was a kid, we played in the street all the time. But we knew to get out of the way when a car was coming. I never knew any kid to get run over by a car.

Jimmy did fall out a tree on his head and kill himself. We climbed trees all the time. Our parents didn't start a petition to cut down all the trees. They knew as well as the kids did that Jimmy was a little bit stupid and clumsy. Our parents just took their kids aside and explained to us that we had to be more careful and think about what we were doing so we didn't end up like Jimmy.

Now everyone, especially Jimmy's parents, were upset by what happened, but everyone, including Jimmy's parents, knew that it was probably inevitable. My generation grew up a little bit smarter on average… a little bit better at taking care of ourselves… just generally a little bit better -- all because of what happened to Jimmy.

And not just because Jimmy wasn't a part of it anymore.

Posted by khitch at 11:32 AM | Permalink

Here's a screen capture of last week's episode of Star Trek: Enterprise. On the left is what was shown on UPN in America, on the right is how the same scene appeared in Canada. Makes me real damn proud. :doze:

WrongCountry (NSFATV)

(Not Safe For American Television)

Posted by khitch at 11:07 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Yahoo! News - Report: Atkins Had Heart Disease History

I'm not going to editorialize too much on this. I just now heard about it and read the article. I would have thought something like this would have come out much sooner. Read the article, decide what you want to believe, and you can post comments here, on the BBS, or discuss it in chat. (If anyone's in there.)

Posted by khitch at 02:56 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

First, read this.

To pointlessly recap the above article, Kathy Cox, the Georgia State Superintendent of Schools has proposed changes to the biology curriculum to remove all references to evolution and replace them with "biological changes over time." This is to avoid raising the ire of any cranio-rectally inverted constituents who get worked up over the dreaded E-word. She went on to offer some support of teaching a theory of "intelligent design." This, of course, is just another way of saying "creation science." (A term so widely regarded as bogus by anyone with an ounce of common sense that I think there are -- or should be -- laws requiring it to be quoted whenever used. Of course, in this context quotes mean, "this is a lie." Like when a dry cleaner advertises, "The 'best' shirt in town.") I'm so glad our elected officials are working so hard to guarantee that no student has much of a chance to get a decent education.

On a completely different note, my mind wandered while driving home today. I got thinking about all the things we just understand and what it's like to not understand them. For example, when I was very young and naïve I didn't realize how radio stations worked. I don't clearly recall how old I was when I figured it out, but I do remember being quite disappointed and feeling rather cheated when I learned they just played records. Up until that point, I'd assumed the musicians were there at the station playing the music. Anyone can play records. What a rip off.

Posted by khitch at 10:15 PM | Permalink

Posted by khitch at 11:36 AM | Permalink

Tonight, for reasons unknown, my psyche threw up a memory of a truly annoying sign I saw in a fast food place a couple years ago. As I recall, the wording of the sign was something like, "If we don't offer to up-size your meal at the time of order, the up-size is free." It's bad enough that they always bug you with that, but now they had a posted policy that they were going to do so every time you ordered. Only if they failed to annoy you, would you get the reward. Oh, thanks a lot!

A friend sent me this picture tonight. I thought I share it with you. I don't want to be the only one who had to look at this.

And finally: a classic link to one of the web's all-time great shockwave flash video series.
Radiskull & Devil Doll
(Yes, that's about as good as flash videos get.)

Posted by khitch at 10:55 PM | Permalink

... regardless of where they choose to live.

Ananova - Toxic concerns over Free Willy burial

Are we really more concerned with what may be in the body of Keiko than the chemical nightmares undoubtedly within the bodies of most human dead movie stars?

Posted by khitch at 09:29 AM | Permalink

local6.com - News - Man Jumps In Lions' Pit, Pretends To Bullfight

I have two problems with this article. First I don't think the police should have interfered. (Unless, of course, they were concerned that the man may not have been good for the lion's diet.) And secondly, I think it's a sign that you've led a very bad life when God tells you to do something like this. He must be out to get you.

Posted by khitch at 11:23 PM | Permalink

I got thinking about scrapbooking the other day. I really don't get it. Why are there whole stores devoted to this activity? I think everyone messes around with scrapbooks a bit as a kid. Either because someone convinces them that it's a fun hobby, or a teacher assigns it as a school project. It seems like it will be fun or interesting until you actually do it. The enthusiasm last long enough for you to gather a big box of stuff to be organized into a scrapbook and maybe long enough to fill maybe a dozen pages. Then you realize the tedium of what you're doing and set it aside (if you started doing it for fun) or slap together just enough to meet the minimum requirements of the assignment (if doing it for school).

The thing is, the effort of finding, organizing, and assembling a scrapbook pretty much guarantees that you'll lose any interest in the subject by the time you get it done. Unless it's something like a scrapbook chronicling the life of your child, or something like that, in which case you'll still be interested in the subject, but really hate the scrapbooking process. And when you look back on it, you ask yourself something like, "Didn't he do anything between the ages of 3 and 10?"

If you are actually single-minded, or masochistic, enough to actually finish a scrapbook, it's totally useless. You, by virtue of all the time and effort you put in, have no need or desire to look at it yourself, you know everything that's in it. And, trust me on this, no one else will ever enjoy sitting down and looking through it. They may do it to be polite, but they will resent you for putting them through it. They may not say anything, but you're being very cruel by putting them through it.

Save your money. Do something better with your time. Everyone will thank you. Maybe not out loud, but in our hearts we'll think of you as a better person. Oh, and the one thing we want to do less than looking through your scrapbook is hearing you talk about it. I thought it was time someone pointed this out.

What's that? How is a weblog not just an electronic scrapbook? Don't go there.

Posted by khitch at 10:43 AM | Permalink

When and where I grew up there was a locally produced Sunday morning kid's show called Freddie Fudd Reads the Funnies. The show consisted of the main character, Freddie Fudd, a strange middle-aged paperboy (shorts, suspenders, striped t-shirt, and Jughead hat), who after wobbling embarrassingly around the neighborhood on his bicycle, would climb into his tree house, which, strangely enough, seemed to contain a television studio, with his last paper and read the Sunday comics to the viewers. This is probably the exact opposite of educational, unless the subject is copyright infringement. But there wasn't generally a large concern with educational television in those days.

In the time-honored tradition of all children's television everywhere, Freddie had a puppet sidekick. In his case it was Pete the Pelican. I have no idea why a pelican. It doesn't really tie into the paperboy theme, and they aren't exactly indigenous to the Great Plains.

This was also back in the days when the sponsor directly impinged n the content of the shows they advertised on. So, Mr. Fudd and his erstwhile waterfowl companion would blatantly plug the local fast-food chain that paid their salaries during the show.

Freddie would explain that the pelican had a great deal of difficultly holding his cup while drinking. But that didn't have to be a problem because the restaurant was an innovator in the area of providing covers for drinks to avoid the problem of spills. He would advise the children watching to follow his example when visiting the establishment and tells the servers, "For Pete's sake, put a lid on it."

I truly wish I was making this up.

Posted by khitch at 03:44 PM | Permalink

I got an interesting piece of junk e-mail today:

To: khitch@randomletters.com Subject: Dear Administration From: xxxxxxxxxx@yahoo.com

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Administration

Posted by khitch at 07:51 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

I finished reading The Fortress of Solitude by Jonathan Lethem last night. I don't really know what to make of it. It was a good read. It took me a while to get through it, but that was mostly because I've been distracted. I just haven't had as much time to read as I'd like. I believe it's a fairly accurate portrayal of growing up about the same time I did, but in a very different place. I couldn't relate to some of it, but that's part of what made it worth reading for me.

Driving home tonight along a road I don't use as much as some others, I noticed a tattoo parlor I hadn't seen before. It seems like every time I drive someplace different I see a new tattoo parlor. That's not really surprising. I see a lot of tattoos and people must be getting them someplace. I almost think I'm seeing too many tattoos. Some don't look very well thought out. I can't imagine the people still liking them a couple years from now, let alone for the rest of their lives. Makes me think that a growing industry a few years down the road will be tattoo removal services. Doctors should probably look into cheap, safe, effective, relatively painless removal techniques. They're liable to do booming business once people take a good look at what they have on their bodies.

The other thing I saw today that seems like a bad idea is peanut butter taffy. That's nothing new. You see it every year at Halloween. Grey-tan slugs of nearly inedible sticky-sweetness wrapped in black or orange waxed paper. I can't believe anyone actually likes this stuff, but people seem to always buy it to hand out as Halloween candy. It's pretty much the only time you see it, and I don't think anyone's happy to get it. I think people buy it because they don't want to give anything good away, but then they have to figure out what to do with any they have left over. Why do people buy this stuff? And why is it even made?

Posted by khitch at 09:04 PM | Permalink

I had an annoying, frustrating day today. I hate spending too much money when I don't want to, and not feeling like I got a fair shake when all is said and done. The thing is, I couldn't really avoid it. I needed new tires for my car. It seems like there's an unwritten rule that if anyone works on your car, even if they're dealing straight with you, they have to make you feel like you're getting screwed over. So I'm just pissed and grumpy and probably will be for a couple days.

The car does ride better.

Posted by khitch at 10:50 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

ICv2 News - Fox News Threatened to Sue The Simpsons

"Hey, Martha, when did Fox News Network hire a cartoon to read the news?"

Posted by khitch at 12:21 PM | Permalink

An article from the paper here this morning: The Macon Telegraph | 10/23/2003 | Midstate hit hard by HOPE plans.

The thought occurred to me while reading this article this morning that perhaps this isn't really about the students. I can't help but wonder if the real opposition to stricter requirements for this scholarship isn't an effort to benefit the schools. If 75% of the freshman class receiving state funds are marginally qualified, one might be forgiven for speculating that the schools are simply admitting students in order to get their slice of the state's education budget. Are the schools serving the needs of the students, or are the students serving the desires of the school?

Posted by khitch at 08:38 AM | Permalink

I was just reminded of something I saw about 25 years ago.

I was visiting Busch Gardens in Tampa, Florida. They had steel cables stretched tight over the walkways with monkeys on them. The monkeys were attached to the cables by collars and a length of chain. The chain was attached to the cable by a ring so it would slide freely. The monkey could run back and forth across the cable above the heads of the (presumably) delighted crowds. For the most part people just glanced up and hoped the monkey had good bowel control.

Anyway, there was one monkey who caught my attention. It was a cruel little spider monkey. It enjoyed upsetting the crowds below. It would run out to the middle of the cable and sway back and forth a couple times, then drop off the cable. It would dangle by its collar a couple feet below the cable 20 or 30 feet above the ground. Out of reach to anyone, it would flail its arms and legs about wildly, convincing the crowd that it was sure to die before any rescue could be mounted. Once there were enough shocked and distressed onlookers, it would casually reach up, grab the chain and pull itself back up onto the cable. After looking around at all the people watching it and chattering in a way that I felt certain was monkey laughter, it would scamper off to one of the trees that cable was attached to.

It would periodically repeat its performance in an effort to traumatize a new set of tourist.

Evil, mean-spirited little beast -- trying to ruin happy families' vacations… it was my favorite monkey in the whole park. :D

Posted by khitch at 12:13 PM | Permalink

There are no shortcuts. If the roads are crowded with too many cars trying to go the same way along the same road, it only means enough of them have tried all the alternates and realized the traffic jam is still the best bet. That's the way it works, we just have to deal with it.

Posted by Hitch at 04:03 PM | Permalink