This will probably be the most ironic article you will ever read.
Me, giving others advice on how to bullshit your way through writing a comedy article on something you know absolutely nothing about. It's like your ugly friend giving you tips on how to keep creepy guys from hitting on you. "Thanks for the help, sista. I'll just hang out with you."
Like I said, the most ironic article ever.
Because I'm usually the ugly friend.
Anyways, allow me to walk you through this atrocity.
Step One: Pick a Topic
The point of this article is to help you write an article you know nothing about, so let's assume by now that you've exhausted all of your pointless knowledge on articles you've already written; including that ever-popular one that lists all of the reasons why Wheatley is awesome in Portal 2.
My advice for choosing an unfamiliar topic, is to choose one that you think will generate a fair amount of traffic. It's pointless to work on an article for longer than you normally would if no one's going to read it. Chances are no one will read it anyway, but why subtract from zero when you can just as easily add. Also, choose something that you can think of a few puns for. No one will respect you for puns, but if it's all you have... Well, if you're having fun, that's all that counts. *grin*
Step Two: Do Some Research
Yes, research. Don't expect to just start writing and all of this info will just "flow". This isn't 2196, there is no Google-brain interface you can download crap to just by thinking about it. I will still teach you how to "bullshit" an article, but you must know the basics on your topic before you start or your readers (even the stupid ones) will see right through you.
Just do a quick skim through Wikipedia and the like. Seriously, if you're already so far into this project that you're reading my ridiculous (and likely completely unhelpful) guide, you can spend a few more moments skimming one more webpage. Put down that burrito. Good stuff. Now we're getting somewhere. While you're at it do a few sit-ups, you could use them. Self-improvement. Think about it.
Step Three: Get Into It
Here's the most important part. Get into the mind of someone who is really into your topic. If you're already a writer of sorts, you should already know how to do this. Although it is easier to "write what you know", you can't always do that. If I did that, all I would have is several short stories about navigational frustration, using proper grammar, burning grilled cheese sandwiches, and the benefits of talking to one's self.
My point is, if you're writing about Barbara Streisand in her "Memories" era, you should get into the mindset of a 55 year old gay man. Think like your subject matter experts. Be the article. Once you do this, you're set. Set like a vet on a jet using a Gillette after you get a pet that's wet and you forget your debt and fret. Like poetry, that. Let the bullshitting begin.
Step Four: Write Good
Yeah.
Writing comedy is very difficult. Writing comedy about something foreign is even more so. For every one line someone chuckles at, there are ninety thousand others that people smirk and think "I see what they were going for there. I'm sure it was funny in their head, but it just didn't really translate. I think they need to focus their energies on something more like that last line about confusing the hand soap and the hand lotion. That was slightly humourous." Well, or something along those lines. One person's funny is another person's confused eyebrow raise.
If I could give one tip for writing comedy, it would be this. Be very specific. I wish I could give you a new example, but that is a recipe for disappointment. However, I will refer you to a sentence from earlier. I wrote a sentence that referred to the character of Wheatley from the video game Portal 2. Now I didn't have to mention that fictional example of an article, but using a specific instance of something (real or not) is much more effective than saying "Yeah, you've written stuff before. It was about stuff you knew information about. Try something else." I know absolutely nothing about Portal 2, or any video games for that matter. Case in point.
If you aren't sure you can be funny. Just switch your intent. Write a serious article. Perhaps you will impart some of your actual wisdom upon people with your killer intelligence and talent for communication.
Like me.
Oh, who am I kidding...
Maybe I should just tell a dick joke.
I don't know any.
Saturday, June 18, 2011
Friday, June 17, 2011
Art Photography: A Guide for Aesthetic Conceptualists
Sometimes when taking pictures, I'll get a single photo that catches the light just right or frames the subject in an interesting perspective and I'll say to myself, "Golly, that's quite a sublime still photograph. It could perhaps represent something deeper than what I had originally intended but need to explore further in the photo-editing phase." As much as that might be underpants-twistingly silly, I still thoroughly enjoy those one-in-one-hundred-and-twelve photographs that really stand out as "artsy".
However, after I get all giddy about a picture, I realize that "art" is in the eye of the beholder (or in the eye of the "artist" but the term "artist" is also in the eye of the beholder, so now I feel like I'm trapped in a Russian nesting doll situation of personal labels, but that's beside the point). Somehow, art has become one of those things that has been popularized as "something that everyone can do" (which I whole-heartedly disagree with, but that's something I'll tackle another day, preferably while drinking and sucking on Costco-sized Pixie stix). I'm not sure who gets to decide what qualifies as art, so we've kind of just been running on an honours system, haven't we? There's a picture of a sad child with a hole in its T-shirt. Art. There's a picture of a bug taken with a macro lens. Art. There's a picture of a man holding an up-side-down burning cross wearing only a clown wig over his junk. Art. There's a exhibition of 99 photographs of soap-on-a-rope. Art. Who gets to freaking decide?
What made my photo "art"? Was it? I thought it was kind of interesting to look at. I took it with my nice camera. But just because I liked it, doesn't mean anybody else would. What if no one else liked it? Does that mean I can't consider it art any more? Then I had to sit down because I could feel the vein in my neck throbbing and the balls of my feet were going numb. This was way too much anxiety for a photograph I took of my dog looking contemplative (not easy, by the way; she's like the Groucho Marx of the animal kingdom).
Someone once said, "Buying a Nikon doesn't make you a photographer. It makes you a Nikon owner." As a Canon owner, I completely agree. I joke, but the essential message is true. You also need an eye. A good eye, and one that can see beyond the lens and the mechanics of light, lens, click. I'm not saying I have this, but I enjoy photography and I would like to keep it as soap-on-a-rope free as I possibly can. If we work together, I believe we can achieve this.
Here are some basic categories of what has come to be known as "art" photography. This won't be a instructional guide but an informative or suggestive guide. A photographer's eye cannot be taught, so I'll just give you the goods on the styles and you can decide which one you "see", if any at all. Good lord... The pretentious part of me is winking and smoking a large Cuban cigar at that last sentence, while the down-to-earth part of me wants to jump off of a plateau into a pile of mutant scorpions.
Nature
This is a very basic category; plants, animals, landscapes, etc. Anyone can take a nature photograph. I think the point to taking "art" nature photographs is to find something unique that gives the viewer a new perspective on that particular form of nature. Standing on a road and taking a picture of a mountain does not take any skill whatsoever. Showing nature in a new "light", if you'll pardon the photography pun, is something that takes practice. Nature photography can be considered either very easy (I mean it's right there, just put down your X-Box controller and go outside, find a leaf and click), or very challenging (everything near me is so boring, I'd need to drive four hours into the mountains or fly to Timbuktu to get any interesting nature). I think you can turn anything boring into something interesting through the lens of a camera, you just need determination, patience, and talent. The talent might be more difficult to conjure up though, but that's where the patience comes in (and a little bit of magic in some cases).
Example of a good nature art photograph. I did not take this.
Example of a bad nature art photograph. I took this. I think the rock looks like a face.
Portrait
As much as I enjoy portrait photography, I've found that there really isn't any middle ground to their quality. They either look like really bad High School graduation photos taken of some kid with a lip twitch and painful constipation, or they look like they could be in Vanity Fair. Anything else doesn't qualify as portrait photography (yes, people that take their own self-portraits for their Facebook profiles, I'm talking to you). OK, I suppose photos that are taken as headshots can be somewhat considered portrait art, but that's walking a very fine line (and usually depends on the attractiveness of the subject, it's the painful truth). My advice for portrait photography is to find someone attractive, just use one bright key light and shine it on their face from the side, do their hair all edgy-like, pop some strange coloured contact lenses on them, and shoot it in sepia. That, or find your own creative style. Either way will work.
Example of a good portrait art photograph. I'm starting to feel very insecure.
Example of a bad portrait art photograph. This is me. I call this one "Don't mess with me, because I'm in medium contrast grainy black & white."
Fashion
Fashion photography can be very fun as there are no limits to the creativity that exists in fashion. You just need to find someone who owns or even designs some interesting articles of clothing. If you don't, don't fret! Slap some sunglasses on your model and then it doesn't matter what they're wearing. Just have your subject lean against a building and you're set. If you happen to have a higher budget, then you should go all out. Make sure your final design includes plenty of shiny clear plastic, asymmetrical lines, jagged edges, half-zipped zippers, holes placed in borderline pornographic areas, and some kind of biodegradable materials like bread, soil, or animal tears. Once you have an extraordinary outfit, the photograph almost takes itself. The more effort you put into the clothing, the less effort goes into the photography and vice versa. Simple math.
Example of a good fashion art photograph. The weight of the hat broke her ankle.
Example of a bad fashion art photograph. Another one of mine. It may not be perfect, but it has what the critics like to call "badassery". Model credit: Micah Henry (I'm sure he doesn't mind...)
Still Life
Taking photos of random inanimate objects can be kind of boring. That's why this subject requires a particularly creative mind in order to find the beauty, the originality, or the strangeness in everyday life. Use your wildest imagination. Shoot the underside of a coffee table. Shoot a rainbow in black and white. Shoot your shoes so they look like they're chasing eachother. Be dangerous! Go crazy! Stack things that don't normally get stacked together!
Example of a good still life art photograph. Who still uses a Walkman? Exactly!
Example of a bad still life art photograph. This is my mom's lighthouse lamp. I'm not sure what you were expecting out of this caption. It's a lighthouse lamp.
Abstract/Surreal
This is my favourite. Not only because it's where you find the most utterly f***ed up photographs ever, but also because the whole "genre" is a lie. There really is no way to categorize this type of art, so they cram it all under "abstract" or "surreal". That's what makes it so awesome. A red wine stain shaped like heart on a coffee stain shaped like a skull on a white carpet? Abstract! Several paring knives stuck into a tomato with "the man" written on the side of it? Surreal! Sure, some people need to be reminded of what these terms actually mean, but who are we to argue with their art-making ways? Anyway, go nuts. Just make sure you have an intent, or people will call you out on your lack of talent. Or they won't. This isn't very good advice, is it?
Example of a good abstract/surreal art photograph. That looks uncomfortable.
Example of a bad abstract/surreal art photograph. I like to tell people that this was supposed to turn out this way, but in actuality, I just accidentally left the shutter open too long.
I think it says something about my talent that all of the "bad" examples of art photography in this guide were taken by me, and none of the good ones. I'll work on that. To conclude, I suggest just taking as many photos as you can. Some of them won't suck. Take those good-ish ones and give them clever titles like "Water as an Existential Loophole" or "My Consciousness in Fava Beans" or "Deliberation!". Then print them and frame them. You're as good as gold. Maybe not gold, but at least a nickel-chromium alloy.
However, after I get all giddy about a picture, I realize that "art" is in the eye of the beholder (or in the eye of the "artist" but the term "artist" is also in the eye of the beholder, so now I feel like I'm trapped in a Russian nesting doll situation of personal labels, but that's beside the point). Somehow, art has become one of those things that has been popularized as "something that everyone can do" (which I whole-heartedly disagree with, but that's something I'll tackle another day, preferably while drinking and sucking on Costco-sized Pixie stix). I'm not sure who gets to decide what qualifies as art, so we've kind of just been running on an honours system, haven't we? There's a picture of a sad child with a hole in its T-shirt. Art. There's a picture of a bug taken with a macro lens. Art. There's a picture of a man holding an up-side-down burning cross wearing only a clown wig over his junk. Art. There's a exhibition of 99 photographs of soap-on-a-rope. Art. Who gets to freaking decide?
What made my photo "art"? Was it? I thought it was kind of interesting to look at. I took it with my nice camera. But just because I liked it, doesn't mean anybody else would. What if no one else liked it? Does that mean I can't consider it art any more? Then I had to sit down because I could feel the vein in my neck throbbing and the balls of my feet were going numb. This was way too much anxiety for a photograph I took of my dog looking contemplative (not easy, by the way; she's like the Groucho Marx of the animal kingdom).
Someone once said, "Buying a Nikon doesn't make you a photographer. It makes you a Nikon owner." As a Canon owner, I completely agree. I joke, but the essential message is true. You also need an eye. A good eye, and one that can see beyond the lens and the mechanics of light, lens, click. I'm not saying I have this, but I enjoy photography and I would like to keep it as soap-on-a-rope free as I possibly can. If we work together, I believe we can achieve this.
Here are some basic categories of what has come to be known as "art" photography. This won't be a instructional guide but an informative or suggestive guide. A photographer's eye cannot be taught, so I'll just give you the goods on the styles and you can decide which one you "see", if any at all. Good lord... The pretentious part of me is winking and smoking a large Cuban cigar at that last sentence, while the down-to-earth part of me wants to jump off of a plateau into a pile of mutant scorpions.
Nature
This is a very basic category; plants, animals, landscapes, etc. Anyone can take a nature photograph. I think the point to taking "art" nature photographs is to find something unique that gives the viewer a new perspective on that particular form of nature. Standing on a road and taking a picture of a mountain does not take any skill whatsoever. Showing nature in a new "light", if you'll pardon the photography pun, is something that takes practice. Nature photography can be considered either very easy (I mean it's right there, just put down your X-Box controller and go outside, find a leaf and click), or very challenging (everything near me is so boring, I'd need to drive four hours into the mountains or fly to Timbuktu to get any interesting nature). I think you can turn anything boring into something interesting through the lens of a camera, you just need determination, patience, and talent. The talent might be more difficult to conjure up though, but that's where the patience comes in (and a little bit of magic in some cases).
Example of a good nature art photograph. I did not take this.Example of a bad nature art photograph. I took this. I think the rock looks like a face.Portrait
As much as I enjoy portrait photography, I've found that there really isn't any middle ground to their quality. They either look like really bad High School graduation photos taken of some kid with a lip twitch and painful constipation, or they look like they could be in Vanity Fair. Anything else doesn't qualify as portrait photography (yes, people that take their own self-portraits for their Facebook profiles, I'm talking to you). OK, I suppose photos that are taken as headshots can be somewhat considered portrait art, but that's walking a very fine line (and usually depends on the attractiveness of the subject, it's the painful truth). My advice for portrait photography is to find someone attractive, just use one bright key light and shine it on their face from the side, do their hair all edgy-like, pop some strange coloured contact lenses on them, and shoot it in sepia. That, or find your own creative style. Either way will work.
Example of a good portrait art photograph. I'm starting to feel very insecure.Example of a bad portrait art photograph. This is me. I call this one "Don't mess with me, because I'm in medium contrast grainy black & white."Fashion
Fashion photography can be very fun as there are no limits to the creativity that exists in fashion. You just need to find someone who owns or even designs some interesting articles of clothing. If you don't, don't fret! Slap some sunglasses on your model and then it doesn't matter what they're wearing. Just have your subject lean against a building and you're set. If you happen to have a higher budget, then you should go all out. Make sure your final design includes plenty of shiny clear plastic, asymmetrical lines, jagged edges, half-zipped zippers, holes placed in borderline pornographic areas, and some kind of biodegradable materials like bread, soil, or animal tears. Once you have an extraordinary outfit, the photograph almost takes itself. The more effort you put into the clothing, the less effort goes into the photography and vice versa. Simple math.
Example of a good fashion art photograph. The weight of the hat broke her ankle.Example of a bad fashion art photograph. Another one of mine. It may not be perfect, but it has what the critics like to call "badassery". Model credit: Micah Henry (I'm sure he doesn't mind...)Still Life
Taking photos of random inanimate objects can be kind of boring. That's why this subject requires a particularly creative mind in order to find the beauty, the originality, or the strangeness in everyday life. Use your wildest imagination. Shoot the underside of a coffee table. Shoot a rainbow in black and white. Shoot your shoes so they look like they're chasing eachother. Be dangerous! Go crazy! Stack things that don't normally get stacked together!
Example of a good still life art photograph. Who still uses a Walkman? Exactly!Example of a bad still life art photograph. This is my mom's lighthouse lamp. I'm not sure what you were expecting out of this caption. It's a lighthouse lamp.Abstract/Surreal
This is my favourite. Not only because it's where you find the most utterly f***ed up photographs ever, but also because the whole "genre" is a lie. There really is no way to categorize this type of art, so they cram it all under "abstract" or "surreal". That's what makes it so awesome. A red wine stain shaped like heart on a coffee stain shaped like a skull on a white carpet? Abstract! Several paring knives stuck into a tomato with "the man" written on the side of it? Surreal! Sure, some people need to be reminded of what these terms actually mean, but who are we to argue with their art-making ways? Anyway, go nuts. Just make sure you have an intent, or people will call you out on your lack of talent. Or they won't. This isn't very good advice, is it?
Example of a good abstract/surreal art photograph. That looks uncomfortable.Example of a bad abstract/surreal art photograph. I like to tell people that this was supposed to turn out this way, but in actuality, I just accidentally left the shutter open too long.I think it says something about my talent that all of the "bad" examples of art photography in this guide were taken by me, and none of the good ones. I'll work on that. To conclude, I suggest just taking as many photos as you can. Some of them won't suck. Take those good-ish ones and give them clever titles like "Water as an Existential Loophole" or "My Consciousness in Fava Beans" or "Deliberation!". Then print them and frame them. You're as good as gold. Maybe not gold, but at least a nickel-chromium alloy.
Thursday, May 12, 2011
The Day I Realized That I'm a Criminal
That would be today, ladies and gentlemen.
Today, I realized that I am a criminal.
What makes this discovery worse is that I hadn't really thought about it before, even while I was commiting these acts. I would excuse my actions as completely justifiable and moral within my own strange principles. It was only today, as I was commiting an act of bus ticket fraud, that I realized how many things I do are actually prohibited by law. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a moron. I do know that certain things are against the law and I was aware that the things I was doing at the time were borderline wrong-doings, but it was only today that it hit me that these things could actually get me an annoying fine, or even some jail time.
However, I only do these things because I hadn't registered that they were necessarily "illegal" at the time and, thus, kept doing them. One of my evil supervisors at work got mad at me one day because I was doing something wrong (something very trivial) but she had the nerve to say "What's worse is that you had no idea you were doing something wrong at all." I then had to add "How is that worse than me knowing that I was doing it wrong all along but just kept doing it wrong because I felt like being a total ass-hat?" I think the fact that I say things like that to her is the main reason that she doesn't like me all that much.
But that's beside the fact.
Here are my crimes:
Bus Ticket Fraud:
Since I mentioned this earlier, it's a good place to start. Often, I will use one bus ticket to pay for my trip to a certain place. This will then be exchanged for a transfer. Then I just use the same transfer for the return journey as well. If I use the train before a bus, I just keep the stamped ticket for the next morning and put it into the little ticket box anyway. If you do it swiftly and casually enough, the bus drivers can't read the actual date stamp on it. This means I get twice the distance out of one packet of bus tickets. The bus drivers never notice, or if they do notice, they don't care. I think this is fair. Breaking some sort of transit bylaw, sure. But if the drivers don't care, then why should I. Totally fair.
I think what made today different with regards to my fraudulent actions, was that the bus driver actually gave me a weird look. I think this triggered a slight fear in me that he might have realized that I was trying to fool him and he would catch me. He didn't. He just gave me the weird look and let me continue walking. Maybe it had nothing to do with the ticket at all, maybe he just thinks I'm strange. I'm not sure which situation upsets me more...
Today, I realized that I am a criminal.
What makes this discovery worse is that I hadn't really thought about it before, even while I was commiting these acts. I would excuse my actions as completely justifiable and moral within my own strange principles. It was only today, as I was commiting an act of bus ticket fraud, that I realized how many things I do are actually prohibited by law. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a moron. I do know that certain things are against the law and I was aware that the things I was doing at the time were borderline wrong-doings, but it was only today that it hit me that these things could actually get me an annoying fine, or even some jail time.
However, I only do these things because I hadn't registered that they were necessarily "illegal" at the time and, thus, kept doing them. One of my evil supervisors at work got mad at me one day because I was doing something wrong (something very trivial) but she had the nerve to say "What's worse is that you had no idea you were doing something wrong at all." I then had to add "How is that worse than me knowing that I was doing it wrong all along but just kept doing it wrong because I felt like being a total ass-hat?" I think the fact that I say things like that to her is the main reason that she doesn't like me all that much.
But that's beside the fact.
Here are my crimes:
Bus Ticket Fraud:
Since I mentioned this earlier, it's a good place to start. Often, I will use one bus ticket to pay for my trip to a certain place. This will then be exchanged for a transfer. Then I just use the same transfer for the return journey as well. If I use the train before a bus, I just keep the stamped ticket for the next morning and put it into the little ticket box anyway. If you do it swiftly and casually enough, the bus drivers can't read the actual date stamp on it. This means I get twice the distance out of one packet of bus tickets. The bus drivers never notice, or if they do notice, they don't care. I think this is fair. Breaking some sort of transit bylaw, sure. But if the drivers don't care, then why should I. Totally fair.
I think what made today different with regards to my fraudulent actions, was that the bus driver actually gave me a weird look. I think this triggered a slight fear in me that he might have realized that I was trying to fool him and he would catch me. He didn't. He just gave me the weird look and let me continue walking. Maybe it had nothing to do with the ticket at all, maybe he just thinks I'm strange. I'm not sure which situation upsets me more...
Grocery Store Self-Check-Out Fraud:
I'm sure I can't be the only person who thinks that this system is flawed. I enjoy (or used to enjoy, at least) bulk candy from Safeway. More specifically, chocolate-covered jujubes. Now, these happen to be substantially more expensive than the chocolate-covered almonds or the chocolate-covered cashews, for example. It also just so happens that these particular bulk candies look identical. So, I just write the number from the chocolate-covered almonds on the tag for my bag of chocolate-covered jujubes and then go through self-check-out and pay a few dollars less. Self-check-out is really only necessary when you are doing this with bulk items that don't really look the same. Like when I get Jelly Bellies (which are about $2.50 per 100g) but I write the number for salted peanuts on it (which are about $0.69 per 100g), it's best not to give them to a cashier who can then look at a computer and see SALTED PEANUTS come up on the monitor and then have you escorted out of Safeway by the pimply "security guard/LOTTO MAX teller". I justify this type of fraud by saying to myself, "Safeway doesn't need the $3.00 I happen to be stealing for something they've marked up by 912%. I, however, could use this $3.00 on my bus ticket home. Oh, who am I kidding..."
Minor Assault:
This might seem a bit more serious than a bit of fraud, but it's really not. By "minor" I really do mean "minor". Like I've hit and slapped my sister a few times, but that's just normal sibling stuff. Since she has broken my glasses by punching me in the face and knocked one of my baby teeth out in the same manner, I reckon we can call it even. However, there is one incident that was outside the family. I was at a house party with a friend and a bunch of guys that I'd never met before. As the night progressed, some of the guys got quite drunk. One in particular started pulling at my shirt. I told him to stop a few times but he didn't listen, so I slapped him across the face. He just held his face and started laughing drunkenly so it wasn't as satisfying as I had hoped it would be. He was also calling me "princess" the whole night, so I'm pretty sure most of you agree with me that it was totally justified.
Downloading Free Music:
Oh, like you don't do it too. I also stream movies online for free as well. I don't download movies, though. That's where I draw the line. Good job, Jackie; now's the time to get moral. If I like a band enough, I will certainly buy their CD. I do like supporting my favourite artists. But I'll be damned if I'm going to shell out $1.29 for "You're A Superstar" by Love Inc. but that little ditty is most definitely on my iPod. Don't judge me.
J-Walking:
I do this all the time. Sometimes I just dart into traffic because I'm too impatient to wait for a car to actually stop for me. A friend of mine always says that this is how I will die; getting hit by an unsuspecting motor vehicle driver after not seeing me sprint out in front of them. Crosswalks are for cowards.
That's probably not a complete list, but it's all I'm willing to admit to at this time. Also, a few of you may have heard of my penchant for pick-pocketing. I have never done this in a criminal sense though. I usually just take people's phones when they're not paying attention, or their pens. It's really not that exciting. I always give them back.
If you are an officer of the law and you are reading this, I copied this off of a website. If you saw through that blatant lie just now (or you believed the lie but are now adding copyright violation to my list of offences), my lawyer's name is Don Schindle, 403-869-3102.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Gardening: A Guide for the Horticulturally Impaired
For the last several years I have tried my hand at growing my own plant organisms of the "flora" variety using clay pots, potting soil, seeds of a certain type, and armed with my intuition and knowledge of the biological engineering required to produce a successful garden. It was soon after my very first expedition into horticulture that I realized that the whole "intuition and knowledge" thing is fairly important, and it's also something that I lack.
Unfortunately something that I do not lack in the slightest is stubbornness. So, every year I keep trying my hand at growing plants, and every year I realize that i suck massively at it. Why do I keep trying? I don't know. Trust me, if I knew, I wouldn't keep doing it.
So last year I did tomatoes. They struggled hopelessly for the months that I was in charge of their well-being. Frankly, they deserve a vegetation medal just for being able to survive on the irregular waterings they got (pretty much whenever I remembered to do it) and the ridiculous amount of sun that very nearly turned their leaves into something resembling kettle chips. When I went on vacation for abut three weeks and asked a friend to look after them, they thrived! I came back and they were twice the size with actual tomato flowers! Go figure. That's when I realized that it wasn't just bad luck that made me fail at growing plants, it was that I was just generally terrible at gardening.
In the years before that (in which the plants included green beans, carrots, and wildflowers) I had just chocked their utter failure up to the fact that Canada was just an inhospitable climate to grow anything. It couldn't possibly have been me. Not a chance.
In my five or so spring-summers of growing things (or attempting to, at least) I have learned a fair bit about the practice. Not necessarily about how to grow things, but mostly about how not to grow things. Have any of you seen How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days? This guide will kind of be like that. If you haven't seen it. Good on you.
Don't plant a single seed and expect it to grow.
My virgin year of gardening I planted wildflowers, but being the niave gardener that I was, I only planted a single seed in each pot. So I had three pots, each with only one seed. As a result I waited nearly a month for... one tiny sprout in one pot and absolutely nothing in the other two. At that point I just dumped the remaining seeds, which was probably like... 40 into each pot in a last stitch effort to grow something. Mostly a last stitch effort not to feel like a failure at something as simple as germination. Dandelions do it all the freaking time when nobody wants them to, yet I couldn't get a freaking daisy to grow without effing it up! The secret is sheer volume. Simple as that. They don't write on the package that some of the seeds don't work, or that they're dead, or they malfunction, or... What's the proper term for a seed that doesn't grow into a plant?
Unfortunately something that I do not lack in the slightest is stubbornness. So, every year I keep trying my hand at growing plants, and every year I realize that i suck massively at it. Why do I keep trying? I don't know. Trust me, if I knew, I wouldn't keep doing it.
So last year I did tomatoes. They struggled hopelessly for the months that I was in charge of their well-being. Frankly, they deserve a vegetation medal just for being able to survive on the irregular waterings they got (pretty much whenever I remembered to do it) and the ridiculous amount of sun that very nearly turned their leaves into something resembling kettle chips. When I went on vacation for abut three weeks and asked a friend to look after them, they thrived! I came back and they were twice the size with actual tomato flowers! Go figure. That's when I realized that it wasn't just bad luck that made me fail at growing plants, it was that I was just generally terrible at gardening.
In the years before that (in which the plants included green beans, carrots, and wildflowers) I had just chocked their utter failure up to the fact that Canada was just an inhospitable climate to grow anything. It couldn't possibly have been me. Not a chance.
In my five or so spring-summers of growing things (or attempting to, at least) I have learned a fair bit about the practice. Not necessarily about how to grow things, but mostly about how not to grow things. Have any of you seen How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days? This guide will kind of be like that. If you haven't seen it. Good on you.
Don't plant a single seed and expect it to grow.
My virgin year of gardening I planted wildflowers, but being the niave gardener that I was, I only planted a single seed in each pot. So I had three pots, each with only one seed. As a result I waited nearly a month for... one tiny sprout in one pot and absolutely nothing in the other two. At that point I just dumped the remaining seeds, which was probably like... 40 into each pot in a last stitch effort to grow something. Mostly a last stitch effort not to feel like a failure at something as simple as germination. Dandelions do it all the freaking time when nobody wants them to, yet I couldn't get a freaking daisy to grow without effing it up! The secret is sheer volume. Simple as that. They don't write on the package that some of the seeds don't work, or that they're dead, or they malfunction, or... What's the proper term for a seed that doesn't grow into a plant?
Anti-Seed?
Don't underwater them.
Not watering your plants and expecting them to grow is like trying to have a cup of tea by sucking on a dry teabag. Unsuccessful. Water is one of those things that is key for photosynthesis, which is kind of a big deal to plants. However, if you are planning on neglecting your plants (which makes no sense, why would you plant them in the first place?) my recommendation is that you dehydrate them before they sprout and not after. It's a lot more cruel and depressing to let a little plantling shrivel up into a brown twig-like thing with crusty leaves than to let a seed just dry up under a hardened pot of soil. Think about it. Consider their feelings.
Don't overwater them.
This is where things get delicate. It's also the area that I cannot seem to master. I was tired of my plants getting dried up and frantically watering them in order to rescue them from the brink of becoming an interior decoration for pretentious sun-dried-flower connoisseurs. So I decided to just flood them with as much water as would fit in the pot, as frequently as I could. Turns out that just a great way to get your seeds to float to the top of your little garden pond of sadness and get waterlogged. Oh, and if it gets humid outside, the soil will start to mold. Just bad all around (unless you enjoy the smell of baked penicillin).
Don't grow carrots in a neighbourhood that is known to have an abundance of rabbits.
It was like a scene from a freaking Bugs Bunny cartoon. The moment my carrots were of any substantial size (which was, at most, about an inch long), I would wake up to find a quarter of them either gone, or dug up and dumped across my back yard. Thanks rabbits. It only took me an agonizing three months and daily waterings and depressing moments of feeling inadequate should I ever need to grow my own food in case of an apocalypse, to grow those gosh-darn carrots (that still only grew to a couple of centimeters) and then you had to go and eat them all! I'm glad you've been fed, there aren't enough of you in my neighbourhood already. Just watch, the next time I see the carrots you stole from me will be when they're all over the road after your innards have been scraped across the pavement by an SUV.
If it gets really hot, take them out of the direct sunlight.
Like I mentioned earlier, I almost made sun-dried tomatoes while they were still on the plant. The surfaces of the little tomatoes were actually getting sunburnt! I looked it up! I didn't even think they could do that!
I'll stop here because I've once again realized that I am really not the person that should be giving gardening advice to anyone.
I have decided that growing plants is a lot like raising children. If you don't have time to take care of them yourself, give them to someone who does, but preferably don't have them in the first place. Give them lots of water and protect them from sunburns, but they'll still always be happier with the babysitter.
BOOK RECOMMENDATION
Stray by Sheri Joseph
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Taking Public Transit: A Guide for Impatient Germaphobes
This morning I decided to make a list. This list would be of things that we all hate with every fragment of our substance but would complain tirelessly if they were to suddenly disappear. And while I did come up with some other options (corporations, government, traffic cops) I found something that went straight to the top of the list: public transit.
We've all been there. Public transit is never perfect, and never will be. The bus or train is always late, or dirty, or cold, or hot, or filled with pungent, obese vagabonds with crazy beards, three fingers, one shoe, grocery bags full of avocadoes, and penchants for small talk that involve the doors closing too fast on their imaginary friends.
In order to deal with these issues properly (and by "properly" I mean swiftly and tolerably), I have prepared a guide. This guide will deal with the primary complaints that (I feel) are most commonly associated with public transit travel: Time, Atmosphere, and People.
Time
In a regular school week, I spend about 500 minutes riding (or waiting for) city transit. That's approximately 8.5 hours (I'm rounding up for obvious reasons) every week. In more of my shoddy calculating skills (even with a calculator I can bastardize the act of calculation, I'm that good), that means I spend about 270 hours of my life every year on city transit and that's just me going to and from school! If I added in the summer months, working, going out with friends etc. it's more like 750 hours. If you take that number and throw it against the 8760 hours in a year, that means I spend approximately (and again I'm rounding up for obvious reasons) 9% of my year riding or waiting for public transit.
Even with that appallingly depressing number, I don't think it's the total number of hours that people complain about, but the number of minutes that they wouldn't have to spend waiting if the bus was always on time. Think of all of the other things I could be doing in the meantime! Watching ten extra minutes of The Best of Just for Laughs, resewing a button on my coat, petting my cat a couple dozen times, spending several more minutes debating whether or not I should make a lunch, playing peek-a-boo with my idiot dog through the window to the backyard, repeating my mantra about not making anyone cry that day, or even learning a phrase or two in another language. The world would just be a better place if I didn't have to wait for the bus.
Unfortunately for you, I don't have a solution for this one. Time is always going to be an issue with public transit. Unless you decide to become a bus driver, I just don't see a solution. Oh wait, here's one.
Get a car.
Oh and bring something along to help pass the time: an iPod (or other such portable music-playing device), a book, a crossword, a Rubik's Cube. Whatever gets you through the hard bits.
Atmosphere
Whether it's cold, hot, or just dirty, public transit has a reputation for being uncomfortable. My theory is that they want people on and off the train/bus as fast as possible, so if you hate being there... It works out perfectly. However, that doesn't help when you need to be stuck in a bus shelter or a cramped train car for a long period of time, whether you're waiting to get on or off. The best time of the day to travel by train is between 3:30am and 5:30am. It's right after they clean the trains, but right before the early morning rush. If you really hate the C-Train enough that you are willing to use it at these insane hours of the morning, I think it's time that you invest in a vehicle. Also, get some counselling, you obviously have bigger issues...
My advice is to find a seat that doesn't have stains, smudges, spills, crumbs, dirt, mold, gum, rotting food, strange smells, single items of clothing, balled-up newspapers, or abandoned infants already in the seat. That's just asking for trouble, for what you think might be just some crumbs, could be anthrax, and what appears to be an abandoned infant could actually be just a really creepy doll. No one wants to sit near that. My advice?
Look before you sit.
Trains and busses are also severely demented when it comes to their heating and cooling systems. In the summer, when it's insanely hot outside, they decide not to use air conditioning at all even though I know they have it. It's like they think "It's Calgary, I'm not going to turn on the AC, it's just going to get cold outside again in 35 minutes." So you walk from the hellfire that is Calgary in the summer, into a slightly more shady hellfire. In winter, they decide to use the equipment. They overcompensate the heat inside the bus because the temperature outside of it is about -30. In my mind, I associate getting on a bus in the dead of winter as being similar to what it must feel like to be thawed after being cryogenically frozen, only in about two-and-a-half seconds. My advice?
Wear layers.
People
If you haven't run into at least one weird guy on the train who will sit staring at you for a good eight stops, then blurt out how much you remind him of his dead mother/wife/child, then try to ask if you are by any chance related to pretty much anybody he's ever met (Are you Marnie's cousin? Or Sally Burns? No? How about Nathan Patricks? No? Really? Spitting image, I tell ya...), then you're just not doing it right.
Alright, let me cut to the chase. Here are your basic "targets of avoidance".
Avoid anyone who sniffles, coughs, wipes their nose on any article of clothing, or is covered in pustulating boils; unless you wish to catch the plague. Avoid anyone who appears to be holding their breath, they can be unpredictable (most likely, they're either crazy or about to explode in a fit of rage). Avoid children, yeah. Avoid anyone wearing glitter, you don't want that stuff on you, you'll never get it off. Avoid people holding open food or drinks, one quick stop and it's everywhere. Avoid overly happy people, they will want to talk to you, you don't want that. Avoid pretty much anyone that looks like they might be about to rape something, because you can never be safe enough.
How do you avoid them? That's easy enough, just don't sit or stand in their general vicinity. However, if there is only one seat left on the bus/train and it is next to one of these "undesirables", and you choose to stand... It's pretty obvious you're avoiding them. I say screw it, your comfort is more important than their freaky-ass feelings. You'll only have to deal with their insulted glances for 15 minutes, tops. My advice?
Put headphones in your ears, wear sunglasses and a thick coat, do not smile at all. This should keep people at bay. You may also wish to take it one step further and pull a hood up over your head and put your hands in your pockets. Nobody will bother you if you look like a criminal. The best way to beat them, is to become one of them...
BOOK RECOMMENDATION
Cell by Stephen King
We've all been there. Public transit is never perfect, and never will be. The bus or train is always late, or dirty, or cold, or hot, or filled with pungent, obese vagabonds with crazy beards, three fingers, one shoe, grocery bags full of avocadoes, and penchants for small talk that involve the doors closing too fast on their imaginary friends.
In order to deal with these issues properly (and by "properly" I mean swiftly and tolerably), I have prepared a guide. This guide will deal with the primary complaints that (I feel) are most commonly associated with public transit travel: Time, Atmosphere, and People.
Time
In a regular school week, I spend about 500 minutes riding (or waiting for) city transit. That's approximately 8.5 hours (I'm rounding up for obvious reasons) every week. In more of my shoddy calculating skills (even with a calculator I can bastardize the act of calculation, I'm that good), that means I spend about 270 hours of my life every year on city transit and that's just me going to and from school! If I added in the summer months, working, going out with friends etc. it's more like 750 hours. If you take that number and throw it against the 8760 hours in a year, that means I spend approximately (and again I'm rounding up for obvious reasons) 9% of my year riding or waiting for public transit.
Even with that appallingly depressing number, I don't think it's the total number of hours that people complain about, but the number of minutes that they wouldn't have to spend waiting if the bus was always on time. Think of all of the other things I could be doing in the meantime! Watching ten extra minutes of The Best of Just for Laughs, resewing a button on my coat, petting my cat a couple dozen times, spending several more minutes debating whether or not I should make a lunch, playing peek-a-boo with my idiot dog through the window to the backyard, repeating my mantra about not making anyone cry that day, or even learning a phrase or two in another language. The world would just be a better place if I didn't have to wait for the bus.
Unfortunately for you, I don't have a solution for this one. Time is always going to be an issue with public transit. Unless you decide to become a bus driver, I just don't see a solution. Oh wait, here's one.
Get a car.
Oh and bring something along to help pass the time: an iPod (or other such portable music-playing device), a book, a crossword, a Rubik's Cube. Whatever gets you through the hard bits.
Atmosphere
Whether it's cold, hot, or just dirty, public transit has a reputation for being uncomfortable. My theory is that they want people on and off the train/bus as fast as possible, so if you hate being there... It works out perfectly. However, that doesn't help when you need to be stuck in a bus shelter or a cramped train car for a long period of time, whether you're waiting to get on or off. The best time of the day to travel by train is between 3:30am and 5:30am. It's right after they clean the trains, but right before the early morning rush. If you really hate the C-Train enough that you are willing to use it at these insane hours of the morning, I think it's time that you invest in a vehicle. Also, get some counselling, you obviously have bigger issues...
My advice is to find a seat that doesn't have stains, smudges, spills, crumbs, dirt, mold, gum, rotting food, strange smells, single items of clothing, balled-up newspapers, or abandoned infants already in the seat. That's just asking for trouble, for what you think might be just some crumbs, could be anthrax, and what appears to be an abandoned infant could actually be just a really creepy doll. No one wants to sit near that. My advice?
Look before you sit.
Trains and busses are also severely demented when it comes to their heating and cooling systems. In the summer, when it's insanely hot outside, they decide not to use air conditioning at all even though I know they have it. It's like they think "It's Calgary, I'm not going to turn on the AC, it's just going to get cold outside again in 35 minutes." So you walk from the hellfire that is Calgary in the summer, into a slightly more shady hellfire. In winter, they decide to use the equipment. They overcompensate the heat inside the bus because the temperature outside of it is about -30. In my mind, I associate getting on a bus in the dead of winter as being similar to what it must feel like to be thawed after being cryogenically frozen, only in about two-and-a-half seconds. My advice?
Wear layers.
People
If you haven't run into at least one weird guy on the train who will sit staring at you for a good eight stops, then blurt out how much you remind him of his dead mother/wife/child, then try to ask if you are by any chance related to pretty much anybody he's ever met (Are you Marnie's cousin? Or Sally Burns? No? How about Nathan Patricks? No? Really? Spitting image, I tell ya...), then you're just not doing it right.
Alright, let me cut to the chase. Here are your basic "targets of avoidance".
Avoid anyone who sniffles, coughs, wipes their nose on any article of clothing, or is covered in pustulating boils; unless you wish to catch the plague. Avoid anyone who appears to be holding their breath, they can be unpredictable (most likely, they're either crazy or about to explode in a fit of rage). Avoid children, yeah. Avoid anyone wearing glitter, you don't want that stuff on you, you'll never get it off. Avoid people holding open food or drinks, one quick stop and it's everywhere. Avoid overly happy people, they will want to talk to you, you don't want that. Avoid pretty much anyone that looks like they might be about to rape something, because you can never be safe enough.
How do you avoid them? That's easy enough, just don't sit or stand in their general vicinity. However, if there is only one seat left on the bus/train and it is next to one of these "undesirables", and you choose to stand... It's pretty obvious you're avoiding them. I say screw it, your comfort is more important than their freaky-ass feelings. You'll only have to deal with their insulted glances for 15 minutes, tops. My advice?
Put headphones in your ears, wear sunglasses and a thick coat, do not smile at all. This should keep people at bay. You may also wish to take it one step further and pull a hood up over your head and put your hands in your pockets. Nobody will bother you if you look like a criminal. The best way to beat them, is to become one of them...
BOOK RECOMMENDATION
Cell by Stephen King
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Conversations With Myself
Hello darlings.
It's good to be back.
I haven't been gone that long, you say?
I know. I know, but any time away from you seems like an eternity. My heart yearns to tap my fingertips lightly on each key as if I'm sending pure love into cyberspace with every stroke.
That's stupid, cheesey, and slightly pathetic, you say?
Well, you said it, not me. You just don't appreciate the pure poetry that exists within the confines of this blog, and I pity you. I pity you.
I should pity myself, you say?
That's just not very nice of you, and I think I will end this little exchange of unpleasantness before I resort to verbal assault on your moral character (most likely referring to your complete lack of tact and possibly your free-wheeling attitude when it comes to sexual practices).
No retort? Yeah, I thought so.
What I've learned this weekend is that sleep isn't all that important as long as you have enough natural adrenaline to keep you going.
What do I mean, you ask?
Good question (and I'm glad we got past the whole "pity yourself" thing really quickly). This weekend I managed to survive 48 hours with a mere 3 hours of sleep under my belt, but I powered through it. The secret, my friends, is motivation.
What kind of motivation, you ask?
The good kind, my friend, the good kind. The reason I was able to keep my eyes and my limbs functional on 3 hours of sleep for 48 hours is that it was because I was doing something that I love (filmmaking). With pleasure and excitement, comes adrenaline. If I was getting up after 3 hours of sleep to watch sheep graze, I would become the fastest case of spontaneous narcolepsy ever on record.
What's narcolepsy, you ask?
Look it up, lazy ass. Who do you think I am? Your mother?
Why do I have to be so mean, you ask?
I don't know, maybe it's because I have to talk to idiots like you.
You don't actually exist, you say.
That's a very good point...
I'm the most brilliant and creative mind that has ever functioned and anything and everything that I think about lights up like a thousands suns everytime I mention its very name, you say?
That's more like it.
I'm being very pretentious, you say?
That's not really the word you were looking for, but we'll work on that later. You're lucky you have me, man, or you'd be just another one of my idiot personalities.
So I broke my camera this weekend. Unfortunately, this happened the night before the big production day, so I never got to take any still photos. It was probably for the best, as it might have been a distraction.
How do I know it's broken, you ask?
Well, unless a camera is supposed to make a little crunching sound every time the lens extends or retracts, I think it's broken.
Just fix it, you say?
Who do you think I am? R. W. Canon. I can't fix lenses. Can you open up a point-and-shoot, tap out all of the micro-shards of optic lens, melt them down into a little puddle of glass, and pour it back into the camera? Ta-da! Fixed!
I don't have to be so sarcastic, you say?
Actually I do.
No, I don't, you say?
Yes. Yes, I do. I very much do.
Do I realize that I'm still talking to myself, and therefore, I am just mocking myself, you ask?
Yes. Yes, I do. Now.
I would like to apologize to anyone reading this for it's weirdness. I would also like to apologize to those who are now slightly scared of me because they read this. Please don't be. I'm actually a very nice person and I keep my insanities mostly to myself. That's such a lie. I'm sorry.
Why would I lie, you ask?
Because while I never lie about important things, and I value honesty above anything else, I am actually quite a gifted liar.
That's getting pretentious again, you say?
It's not pretentious if it's true. Think about it.
BOOK RECOMMENDATION
Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas by Hunter S. Thompson
It's good to be back.
I haven't been gone that long, you say?
I know. I know, but any time away from you seems like an eternity. My heart yearns to tap my fingertips lightly on each key as if I'm sending pure love into cyberspace with every stroke.
That's stupid, cheesey, and slightly pathetic, you say?
Well, you said it, not me. You just don't appreciate the pure poetry that exists within the confines of this blog, and I pity you. I pity you.
I should pity myself, you say?
That's just not very nice of you, and I think I will end this little exchange of unpleasantness before I resort to verbal assault on your moral character (most likely referring to your complete lack of tact and possibly your free-wheeling attitude when it comes to sexual practices).
No retort? Yeah, I thought so.
What I've learned this weekend is that sleep isn't all that important as long as you have enough natural adrenaline to keep you going.
What do I mean, you ask?
Good question (and I'm glad we got past the whole "pity yourself" thing really quickly). This weekend I managed to survive 48 hours with a mere 3 hours of sleep under my belt, but I powered through it. The secret, my friends, is motivation.
What kind of motivation, you ask?
The good kind, my friend, the good kind. The reason I was able to keep my eyes and my limbs functional on 3 hours of sleep for 48 hours is that it was because I was doing something that I love (filmmaking). With pleasure and excitement, comes adrenaline. If I was getting up after 3 hours of sleep to watch sheep graze, I would become the fastest case of spontaneous narcolepsy ever on record.
What's narcolepsy, you ask?
Look it up, lazy ass. Who do you think I am? Your mother?
Why do I have to be so mean, you ask?
I don't know, maybe it's because I have to talk to idiots like you.
You don't actually exist, you say.
That's a very good point...
I'm the most brilliant and creative mind that has ever functioned and anything and everything that I think about lights up like a thousands suns everytime I mention its very name, you say?
That's more like it.
I'm being very pretentious, you say?
That's not really the word you were looking for, but we'll work on that later. You're lucky you have me, man, or you'd be just another one of my idiot personalities.
So I broke my camera this weekend. Unfortunately, this happened the night before the big production day, so I never got to take any still photos. It was probably for the best, as it might have been a distraction.
How do I know it's broken, you ask?
Well, unless a camera is supposed to make a little crunching sound every time the lens extends or retracts, I think it's broken.
Just fix it, you say?
Who do you think I am? R. W. Canon. I can't fix lenses. Can you open up a point-and-shoot, tap out all of the micro-shards of optic lens, melt them down into a little puddle of glass, and pour it back into the camera? Ta-da! Fixed!
I don't have to be so sarcastic, you say?
Actually I do.
No, I don't, you say?
Yes. Yes, I do. I very much do.
Do I realize that I'm still talking to myself, and therefore, I am just mocking myself, you ask?
Yes. Yes, I do. Now.
I would like to apologize to anyone reading this for it's weirdness. I would also like to apologize to those who are now slightly scared of me because they read this. Please don't be. I'm actually a very nice person and I keep my insanities mostly to myself. That's such a lie. I'm sorry.
Why would I lie, you ask?
Because while I never lie about important things, and I value honesty above anything else, I am actually quite a gifted liar.
That's getting pretentious again, you say?
It's not pretentious if it's true. Think about it.
BOOK RECOMMENDATION
Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas by Hunter S. Thompson
Monday, March 7, 2011
Your Childhood: A Guide for the Maladjusted
I'm sure everyone reading this has, at one time or another, been told they have had a deprived childhood. I'm also sure that it wasn't told to you by a malicious sociopath just trying to hurt your feelings, but by a friend or aquaintance who had learned that you had been lacking something in your precious early youth that society seems to think is essential in the process that is child-rearing (or at least was in the early nineties). Now, don't take their word for it. I'm sure you've turned out just fine. Here is a random selection of said "essentials". I will also assign a trauma level rating to each, measured in therapy hours required to fix the subconscious psychological issues that stem from not having that specific thing in your life when you were a wee tot. Like Pogs.
Riding a Bike: I don't really know why not having ridden a bike (or owned one, I guess) is considered more deprived than not having ridden or used a skateboard, rollerblades, a scooter, or a pogo stick. I suppose bike-riding can pull the "I've been around for nearly two hundred years" card, but that's really no excuse. They all fall under the "alternative modes of transportation that border on unnecessary and do not require the aquisition of a license to operate one" column heading. I say we rise up and start badgering people about rollerblades and pogo sticks as well. It's only fair. So you missed out on a parental unit pushing you on your two-wheeler until you could ride all by yourself without training wheels like some happy Hollywood family. Boo frickin' hoo. I'm sure they bought you ice cream at some point. That's just as effective with a lot less screaming. I rode a bike recreationally for many years in my late single digits to early double digits and the only thing I gained is a few pairs of torn jeans, probably a hundred dollars in bandages, and countless scars. Bikes are not for the uncoordinated.
Trauma Level: One hour. You can tell the therapist that you didn't really need one and aren't bothered by it, then still have time to talk about how you were always picked last in gym class (like that system ever really existed).
Playing Video Games: This is probably more relevant to today's preteens than to my generation, but I find it still applies. I still get weird looks when I say I've never heard of, let alone played, Starcraft (whatever the hell that is). The only thing I ever really played as a child was Duck Hunt and Super Mario Bros. at my grandpa's house when I was 6 on the original NES (like I know what that is...). Seeing as how I was one of the youngest of like... 15 cousins, I never really got to play much. So my experience with video games is watching my cousins shout at a dog that made fun of their obscenely poor water-foul slaughtering skills. However, we have to take into account that some video games are quite violent and, perhaps, people that never really played them as a child are better because of it. I mean, Mario jumps angrily on fungi and spits fireballs at unsuspecting turtle creatures. I know he's Italian and all but... it's unnecessary.
Trauma Level: Two hours to talk about how you never got a turn at the console and now you have self-esteem and assertiveness issues, and one hour to use one of those therapeutic punching bags to let off some steam.
Riding a Bike: I don't really know why not having ridden a bike (or owned one, I guess) is considered more deprived than not having ridden or used a skateboard, rollerblades, a scooter, or a pogo stick. I suppose bike-riding can pull the "I've been around for nearly two hundred years" card, but that's really no excuse. They all fall under the "alternative modes of transportation that border on unnecessary and do not require the aquisition of a license to operate one" column heading. I say we rise up and start badgering people about rollerblades and pogo sticks as well. It's only fair. So you missed out on a parental unit pushing you on your two-wheeler until you could ride all by yourself without training wheels like some happy Hollywood family. Boo frickin' hoo. I'm sure they bought you ice cream at some point. That's just as effective with a lot less screaming. I rode a bike recreationally for many years in my late single digits to early double digits and the only thing I gained is a few pairs of torn jeans, probably a hundred dollars in bandages, and countless scars. Bikes are not for the uncoordinated.
Trauma Level: One hour. You can tell the therapist that you didn't really need one and aren't bothered by it, then still have time to talk about how you were always picked last in gym class (like that system ever really existed).
Playing Video Games: This is probably more relevant to today's preteens than to my generation, but I find it still applies. I still get weird looks when I say I've never heard of, let alone played, Starcraft (whatever the hell that is). The only thing I ever really played as a child was Duck Hunt and Super Mario Bros. at my grandpa's house when I was 6 on the original NES (like I know what that is...). Seeing as how I was one of the youngest of like... 15 cousins, I never really got to play much. So my experience with video games is watching my cousins shout at a dog that made fun of their obscenely poor water-foul slaughtering skills. However, we have to take into account that some video games are quite violent and, perhaps, people that never really played them as a child are better because of it. I mean, Mario jumps angrily on fungi and spits fireballs at unsuspecting turtle creatures. I know he's Italian and all but... it's unnecessary.
Trauma Level: Two hours to talk about how you never got a turn at the console and now you have self-esteem and assertiveness issues, and one hour to use one of those therapeutic punching bags to let off some steam.
"I'm not laughing at you. I'm laughing at the idiot holding the gun like a bouquet of flowers."
Flying a Kite: Unless you're Mary Poppins, chances are you have precious little kite-flying experience. In today's world, the kite is a "toy" that has suffered serious neglect. When I was a kid, I flew a kite. Not often but, let's be honest, once a year is enough to satisfy that little slice of the "stuff to do in the summer to get out of the house" pie chart. Even when I was a kid, not many people did it; and yet, people are scrutinized for never having done it. It's not fair, really. It's like judging people for not having seen Gone With The Wind, when really... Who has?
Trauma Level: None, just go watch Mary Poppins. You'll see what you haven't been missing.
Playing Monopoly: If you haven't done this, what's wrong with you? I think this one is the one I need to back 100%. Not only do you learn how to play nicely with friends; you learn basic strategy, real estate procedures, and money-management and business skills. Not to mention that you get to be a tiny part of a franchise that has been around for a century and has versions based on every decade, every species of animal, and every television series in existence. If you haven't played Monopoly, go play it now. I'll wait.
Trauma Level: Eight hours; one hour to talk about those nightmares you've been having about being molested by Uncle Pennybags for never having played the game, and seven hours to play one game with your therapist. At a leisurely pace of course, we don't want any cases of PTSD.
Sending children to jail since 1936.
Having Seen the Entire Disney Animated Feature Collection: I am guilty of judging people based on their lack of connoisseurship when it comes to the classic Disney animated features. Unless you didn't own a VCR, I just don't think there is an excuse for not having seen The Lion King, Aladdin, or Beauty and the Beast. I really don't. Sorry. What a sad existence you must lead. Not quite getting any James Earl Jones/Mufasa references, not enjoying Angela Lansbury as much as you should, and not experiencing that tingly feeling in high school when you've read the first half of your translated copy of Hamlet and you clue in.
Trauma Level: Seventy hours. Yes, seventy. That is how long it will take you to watch the entire Disney animated feature collection. Not counting Pixar. It's the only cure.
Having a Pet Goldfish: I understand why parents buy their children low-maintenance pets. It's so they can experience and understand what death is before a major human death has a chance to affect them. How depressing. Seriously though, a goldfish is the worst template for death a parent could use. My goldfish (and I had several) lasted, on average, about a week and a half. Goldfish are easier to kill than WWI fighter pilots. I'm sure a good number of children think that by adjusting the thermostat by one degree or by tapping on the door to grandma's bedroom, it will send her to McNally & Sons funeral home faster than you can say Teletubbies.
Trauma Level: None. Thanks to not having a pet goldfish, you dealt with death like a well-adjusted child; not knowing quite what was going on until a few years later and then thought "I probably should have been sadder".
Camping: Who doesn't love a crackling fire, roasting marshmallows, playing a harmonica, hiking through the woods, stringing up your food in a tree at night to avoid bear attacks, mosquito repellant, using outhouses in the middle of the night, minus thirty degree temperatures, and the smell of weed from the next campsite? It is truly a coming-of-age experience. I camped for many, many years. Raised on it, I was. Even with all of it's drawbacks, I thoroughly enjoyed it. I do understand, though, that not every family is as outdoorsy as mine and it's a shame. Nowadays, there are ways to take video games into the wilderness, so there's really no excuse not to. The bears are waiting.
Trauma Level: One night in your backyard with a flashlight, a sleeping bag, a book, and some snacks. It's not the same, but it'll do.
It's OK, I'm sure with the appropriate amount of therapy as prescribed by me, you'll be just fine. Or at least slightly less damaged than you have been. No promises though.
BOOK RECOMMENDATION
Skin and Other Stories by Roald Dahl
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Common Latin Phrases: A Guide for the Ambitious Academic
Everyone strives to be more intelligent. If you don't, stop reading right now, this guide will only make your goal of complete ignorance more difficult to achieve. Stick to your guns, no one likes a quitter. For those of you who do wish to gain a touch more knowledge, keep reading. I would like to touch base with some old latin phrases and see how they're doing, what they've been up to for the last 26 centuries, find out why they've got the legal community wrapped around their gnarly little Roman fingers. Mostly it's so that laymen, like us, can find out what those phrases we've been throwing out during junior high debate tournaments over the years actually mean.
Bona fide: "in good faith"
According to my research (insert flashback of watching The Magic Schoolbus), this phrase is used in contemporary English as a way of asking for someone's credentials, as in "show me your bona fides." Honestly, that sounds like an invitation for exhibitionism, and not the good kind. I think you'll find its more common usage is as a qualification of truth. As in, "Oprah Winfrey is a bona fide rich person", or "Stephen Hawking is a bona fide cripple."
De facto: "by the fact"
This has been deemed synonymous with such other phrases as "for all intents and purposes" or "in fact", but it really means that it is something that is true in practice but not officially established in law. Until the "bro code" was published, it was de facto that you never leave a high five or a fist bump hanging when it is offered to you. Common sense, really. Personally, I think it sounds like a cool Italian last name but, instead, it would be spelled D'Facto. I'm picturing someone in the mafia who eats ravioli out of bullet ridden human skulls.
Pro bono: "for the good"
Boy, has this one been distorted over the years. No longer does it mean "for the good". Now it means "for free". I guess, if you're a nitpicker and you don't enjoy the benefit and general happiness that can result from having friends, you might argue that they can be interpreted as the same thing. I think that is a very materialistic approach to the philosophy, and I will proceed to assume that you are a lawyer. My condolences.
Ad nauseum: "to (the point of) nausea"
While most commonly used as an almost metaphorical hyperbole to describe menial events that have been continuing to the point of nausea, I would prefer to use it in it's more literal sense. Bring it back to it's roots. Such as, "I ate jager bomb jello shots ad nauseum" or "I rode the carousel with my screaming nephew while inhaling a combination of second-hand cigarette smoke and pink cotton candy ad nauseum."
Quid pro quo: "this for that"
Otherwise known among circles of cigar-smoking poker-playing clone husbands of the 1960's as "tit for tat". Translated into a dialect of English most commonly found sung by Elvis Presley's co-stars it becomes "If you'll scratch my back/Then I'll scratch your back/Like two peas in a pack/Let's get rid of our itch together." Politicians have also been found to use this phrase as a strange occupational slang for "bribery".
Deus ex machina: "god out of the machine"
A plot device where a seemingly impossible problem or situation is miraculously solved by some contrived intervention of a new person, force, or object.
*Insert crass and insensitive Bible reference here*
Non sequitur: "it does not follow"
To me, rather than represent a literary device that makes a passage or event humorous due to it's apparent lack of relevance to what came before it, I think it should be yelled during boot camp at every military training base on the continent. Imagine the moral of a group of young soldiers being told they are marching incorrectly by having a lovely latin word shouted at them instead of a sentence that might rhyme with "Gut the shmuck up and get your feet moving, you smother plucking buns of fishes!"
BOOK RECOMMENDATION
American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis
Bona fide: "in good faith"
According to my research (insert flashback of watching The Magic Schoolbus), this phrase is used in contemporary English as a way of asking for someone's credentials, as in "show me your bona fides." Honestly, that sounds like an invitation for exhibitionism, and not the good kind. I think you'll find its more common usage is as a qualification of truth. As in, "Oprah Winfrey is a bona fide rich person", or "Stephen Hawking is a bona fide cripple."
De facto: "by the fact"
This has been deemed synonymous with such other phrases as "for all intents and purposes" or "in fact", but it really means that it is something that is true in practice but not officially established in law. Until the "bro code" was published, it was de facto that you never leave a high five or a fist bump hanging when it is offered to you. Common sense, really. Personally, I think it sounds like a cool Italian last name but, instead, it would be spelled D'Facto. I'm picturing someone in the mafia who eats ravioli out of bullet ridden human skulls.
Pro bono: "for the good"
Boy, has this one been distorted over the years. No longer does it mean "for the good". Now it means "for free". I guess, if you're a nitpicker and you don't enjoy the benefit and general happiness that can result from having friends, you might argue that they can be interpreted as the same thing. I think that is a very materialistic approach to the philosophy, and I will proceed to assume that you are a lawyer. My condolences.
Ad nauseum: "to (the point of) nausea"
While most commonly used as an almost metaphorical hyperbole to describe menial events that have been continuing to the point of nausea, I would prefer to use it in it's more literal sense. Bring it back to it's roots. Such as, "I ate jager bomb jello shots ad nauseum" or "I rode the carousel with my screaming nephew while inhaling a combination of second-hand cigarette smoke and pink cotton candy ad nauseum."
Quid pro quo: "this for that"
Otherwise known among circles of cigar-smoking poker-playing clone husbands of the 1960's as "tit for tat". Translated into a dialect of English most commonly found sung by Elvis Presley's co-stars it becomes "If you'll scratch my back/Then I'll scratch your back/Like two peas in a pack/Let's get rid of our itch together." Politicians have also been found to use this phrase as a strange occupational slang for "bribery".
Deus ex machina: "god out of the machine"
A plot device where a seemingly impossible problem or situation is miraculously solved by some contrived intervention of a new person, force, or object.
*Insert crass and insensitive Bible reference here*
Non sequitur: "it does not follow"
To me, rather than represent a literary device that makes a passage or event humorous due to it's apparent lack of relevance to what came before it, I think it should be yelled during boot camp at every military training base on the continent. Imagine the moral of a group of young soldiers being told they are marching incorrectly by having a lovely latin word shouted at them instead of a sentence that might rhyme with "Gut the shmuck up and get your feet moving, you smother plucking buns of fishes!"
BOOK RECOMMENDATION
American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis
Monday, February 28, 2011
Naming Your Pub: A Guide for Alcoholic Entrepreneurs
Pubs are a great place to mingle. Socializing clearly being the primary function of a pub. If you are interested in owning a socializing establishment like a pub, the most important thing you need to get started is a good name for it. This is of course targeted towards Irish pubs. I mean, they are really the best kind. English pubs have their charms and they make nice meat pies, but they just lack the raw, brogue atmosphere of being in an Irish pub. A feeling that can really only be described by gutteral noises made in the back of your throat after you've experienced a night you most likely don't remember.
So please take note. You can learn a little something about the art that is pub-naming and perhaps your future ventures into the business of owning "socializing" venues just might pay off in the long run. I mean, how can it not? It involves eight different types of Guinness!
The Last Name: Probably the most common of all Irish pub names is the traditional last name. Of course, if you choose to go this route, make sure you Irish it up. Now turning the word "Irish" into a verb is normally something I avoid, however, in this case, I make an exception due to the importance of having an authentically Irish name. Traditionally, just adding an "O" to the beginning of a name would suffice but these are tough economical times. You can't afford to take the risk that your name will not be quite Irish enough to please the typical drunken red-headed bloke with the mutton-chops. He could bring in a lot of business. I suggest taking an already grotesquely Irish name and then adding an "O". Then, for good measure you need a really good adjective to describe this fictional Irish namesake. Your pub needs a name that will make people walk with a significant limp in their right leg just by reading it. It needs to be an adjective of anger, insanity, or just downright grumpiness. Stay away from "Old" or "Mad". Old Murphy's or Mad O'Brien's or (heaven forbid) Mad Old O'Sullivan's are examples of pub names that make people picture green beer and waitresses dressed like this:
So please take note. You can learn a little something about the art that is pub-naming and perhaps your future ventures into the business of owning "socializing" venues just might pay off in the long run. I mean, how can it not? It involves eight different types of Guinness!
The Last Name: Probably the most common of all Irish pub names is the traditional last name. Of course, if you choose to go this route, make sure you Irish it up. Now turning the word "Irish" into a verb is normally something I avoid, however, in this case, I make an exception due to the importance of having an authentically Irish name. Traditionally, just adding an "O" to the beginning of a name would suffice but these are tough economical times. You can't afford to take the risk that your name will not be quite Irish enough to please the typical drunken red-headed bloke with the mutton-chops. He could bring in a lot of business. I suggest taking an already grotesquely Irish name and then adding an "O". Then, for good measure you need a really good adjective to describe this fictional Irish namesake. Your pub needs a name that will make people walk with a significant limp in their right leg just by reading it. It needs to be an adjective of anger, insanity, or just downright grumpiness. Stay away from "Old" or "Mad". Old Murphy's or Mad O'Brien's or (heaven forbid) Mad Old O'Sullivan's are examples of pub names that make people picture green beer and waitresses dressed like this:
Cliche is not what we're going for here. Understood? Also, something like Bashful Maguire's is not acceptable. You don't want people to think you will gladly host family St. Patrick's Day parties with shamrock cupcakes and leprechaun balloons. My official recommendation would be something along the lines of Shifty O'Shea's, Loathsome O'Leary's, or Cantankerous O'Callaghan's. Alliteration is not necessarily required, it's just charming.
The Described Noun: This method is also quite common and one where people tend to get the most creative. You basically just take any noun - and by any noun I mean absolutely ANY noun - and add either an adjective or a verb in front of it. Choosing a verb tends to make things a bit more fun. Some examples are The Idle Cook (in Yorkshire), The Bleeding Wolf (in Cheshire), or The Quiet Woman (in York). These are all quite creative, but the point is to find something strangely unique that you respond to personally that will intrigue people enough to step into your home away from home. There are very few boundaries for this method as there are so many different combinations. Many pubs have favoured using animals as their noun. Lord knows why. I think The Murdered Squirrel or The Diseased Prawn just don't sound like places I want to eat chicken fingers in. If you must pick an animal, I suggest going the jolly route (traditionally avoided by the edgier pub-namers) and choosing something like The Giggling Hampster or The Slap-Happy Tortoise. As far as adjectives/verbs go, the only one I strongly suggest you avoid is "drunken". Far too obvious. People don't need to be told that a pub is a place where living things can get intoxicated. I think they would rather go somewhere with a name that can be misconstrued as an edgy used-book store. Then they can tell their wives where they are and not have to lie. For example, The Happy Medium (in West Sussex) or The Blooming Fuchsia (in Suffolk) sounds more kosher than telling your wife you're in The Drunken Duck (in Cumbria), even though it may slice your manhood in half. Ahh, The Hairy Lemon.
I recommend just finding a favourite old-timey item and giving it a completely obscure verb. I like The Drooling Doorknob, The Fleeing Monocle, or The Wandering Typewriter. I say "old-timey" item because the last thing we need is a pub called The Itching X-Box.
The Blank and Blank: This is my personal favourite. All of the examples I've ever seen of this method seem like the pub owner flipped through a dictionary and chose the first two nouns they came across and said "Yup, looks good to me". So much so that you have pubs called The Cow and Snuffers (in Cardiff) and The Goat and Tricycle (in Bournemouth). I have noticed in my research (and yes, I did some) that it is often a pairing of an animal and then a random noun. Even so, there are so many possibilities, the mind begins to wander. One boundary I can think of is to keep it PG-13. Children still walk the streets. So I guess The Crab and Syphilus is out. I would also stay away from using "dog" or "cow", overused to the extreme. One more thing to avoid: pairing things that may end up sounding like a dish that might be served inside the pub itself. So that rules out names like The Chicken and Toast or The Tuna and Wasabi. In following those rules, I recommend names like The Swordfish and Bookshelf, The Chickadee and Treebark, or The Otter and Dollhouse.
That brings us to the end of this little "guide to". Now go forth, name your pub and remember to send me a free-"socializations"-for-life membership card. To be honest, it's the least you owe me.
BOOK RECOMMENDATION:
Ishmael by Daniel Quinn
Monday, February 21, 2011
The Agitated, Belligerent Senile
So it's reading break. I've spent the last hour or so Googling random words, and I found this site of Weird Ads from the 50's, 60's, and 70's. I found them remarkably entertaining, so I'm blogging about them.
"Can't afford laxatives for your quintuplet sons and they're angry about it? Pick up some Fry's Chocolate today!"
"You won't be able to quit, but don't worry; we've made healthier cigarettes so you can smoke a hell of a lot more of them, with half the guilt."
"Gillette is our name. Decapitating prematurely dextrous babies with pituitary problems is our game."
BOOK RECOMMENDATION:
Lives of the Circus Animals by Christopher Bram
"Tranquilize grandpa before he turns his cane into your next boyfriend."
"Camel Tobacco: Making speed-skating wheezier since 1913."
"Can't afford laxatives for your quintuplet sons and they're angry about it? Pick up some Fry's Chocolate today!"
"You won't be able to quit, but don't worry; we've made healthier cigarettes so you can smoke a hell of a lot more of them, with half the guilt.""Gillette is our name. Decapitating prematurely dextrous babies with pituitary problems is our game."BOOK RECOMMENDATION:
Lives of the Circus Animals by Christopher Bram
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Some Emeralds of Advice... Or Is It Pearls of Wisdom?
Some people think that the best way to remove bobby-pins from ones hair is to take them out with your fingers. I respectfully disagree. I, personally, enjoy brushing my hair and letting them all just fall out. Oh, how satisfying the sound of the clink of the pins against the bathroom counter is. The only downside that I can think of, is it is also an effective way of losing said bobby-pins, which is why I end up buying more on a regular basis. Totally worth it.
New Year's is the most pointless holiday in existence. It is the celebration of a trivial day on a numeric scale of time, with no other meaning than to signify that this cycle has again played itself out in full. Do we celebrate every June 15th that it has been one year since the last June 15th? No. That would be silly. It seems people enjoy celebrating it as it is an excuse to get completely sloshed and stay out until 4:00am. Like anybody really needs an excuse to do that. It's really just an occassion where people think about how a) they didn't really do anything during the past year and b) they are unlikely to do anything during the year to come.
In my opinion, you aren't a true fan of a band until you know all the names of the band members. If you don't know, that means you haven't cared enough to do a simple Wikipedia search, and really... How easy is Wikipedia? If you can turn on a faucet you can search Wikipedia. For example: Marcus, Ben, Winston, and Ted are Mumford & Sons; Chris, Jonny, Will, and Guy are Coldplay; Dave, Carter, Stefan, Boyd, and LeRoi are Dave Matthews Band, etc. Same goes for television shows, you need to be able to name all of the prominent cast members. For example: Hugh Laurie, Robert Sean Leonard, Lisa Edelstein, Omar Epps, Jesse Spencer, Peter Jacobson, and Olivia Wilde are House M.D. and Rowan Atkinson, Tony Robinson, Tim McInnerny, Stephen Fry, and Hugh Laurie are Blackadder.
When playing The Sims (The Sims 3 to be more specific) I recommend playing with one of two methods in mind. If you are striving to have a big family, make one parent have a job that involves leaving the house and one that has a self-employed, work-from-home job. This ensures that at least one parent leaves the house to leave room for cleaning, cooking etc. and that one parent is at home to take care of any pre-school-age children but still making money. This is actually a reasonable idea for life as well, but works even better for The Sims, because Sims don't have emotional problems pertaining to anything outside themselves, which makes everything astronomically easier.
If you are an avid reader like myself, here is a tip for finding book recommendations: go to the book recommendations section of The New York Public Library, and/or take a look at the long-list and short-list for the Man Booker Prize. Both will give a accurate representation of the best books of the year (and previous years) but not based solely on sales (which is why I steer clear of the New York Times Bestseller list). What I do is look up the lists on those two sites, then cross-reference them with their synopses and reviews on Amazon.ca. That way I can get a reasonably accurate representation of whether I might enjoy the book or not.
Comparatively, I find the internet the best way to find new music. Personally, I suggest looking up a band you already like on YouTube, going to the channel of their official record label, and looking up other bands/artists that label has also signed. Music labels tend to sign artists that are relatively similar (either in quality or style), so I find that a great way to find new music. If you enjoy British music, like I do, two channels I recommend are islandrecords and parlophone.
If you don't happen to have any Kraft Dinner, but you have a craving for some, I have a simple solution. Take your favourite pasta (not a stringy one like fettucini or linguini, but instead penne or shells) and boil it up. Then take a generous spoonful of Cheez Whiz and stir it in. It won't taste exactly like KD, but it's similar enough to count as passable. I actually think it's slightly better and it gives me the satisfaction of a "homemade" meal. The downside? It's one of the least healthy things you can ingest, but then so is regular KD.
Take a look at Johnny Flynn, he's a British folk singer/songwriter/musician:
ALERT: Here's a new feature that I hope I can remember to do every time I post. We'll see how that goes... A book recommendation section. I won't recommend something if I haven't read it. Simple book recommendation ettiquette, I think.
BOOK RECOMMENDATION
Juliet, Naked by Nick Hornby
New Year's is the most pointless holiday in existence. It is the celebration of a trivial day on a numeric scale of time, with no other meaning than to signify that this cycle has again played itself out in full. Do we celebrate every June 15th that it has been one year since the last June 15th? No. That would be silly. It seems people enjoy celebrating it as it is an excuse to get completely sloshed and stay out until 4:00am. Like anybody really needs an excuse to do that. It's really just an occassion where people think about how a) they didn't really do anything during the past year and b) they are unlikely to do anything during the year to come.
In my opinion, you aren't a true fan of a band until you know all the names of the band members. If you don't know, that means you haven't cared enough to do a simple Wikipedia search, and really... How easy is Wikipedia? If you can turn on a faucet you can search Wikipedia. For example: Marcus, Ben, Winston, and Ted are Mumford & Sons; Chris, Jonny, Will, and Guy are Coldplay; Dave, Carter, Stefan, Boyd, and LeRoi are Dave Matthews Band, etc. Same goes for television shows, you need to be able to name all of the prominent cast members. For example: Hugh Laurie, Robert Sean Leonard, Lisa Edelstein, Omar Epps, Jesse Spencer, Peter Jacobson, and Olivia Wilde are House M.D. and Rowan Atkinson, Tony Robinson, Tim McInnerny, Stephen Fry, and Hugh Laurie are Blackadder.
When playing The Sims (The Sims 3 to be more specific) I recommend playing with one of two methods in mind. If you are striving to have a big family, make one parent have a job that involves leaving the house and one that has a self-employed, work-from-home job. This ensures that at least one parent leaves the house to leave room for cleaning, cooking etc. and that one parent is at home to take care of any pre-school-age children but still making money. This is actually a reasonable idea for life as well, but works even better for The Sims, because Sims don't have emotional problems pertaining to anything outside themselves, which makes everything astronomically easier.
If you are an avid reader like myself, here is a tip for finding book recommendations: go to the book recommendations section of The New York Public Library, and/or take a look at the long-list and short-list for the Man Booker Prize. Both will give a accurate representation of the best books of the year (and previous years) but not based solely on sales (which is why I steer clear of the New York Times Bestseller list). What I do is look up the lists on those two sites, then cross-reference them with their synopses and reviews on Amazon.ca. That way I can get a reasonably accurate representation of whether I might enjoy the book or not.
Comparatively, I find the internet the best way to find new music. Personally, I suggest looking up a band you already like on YouTube, going to the channel of their official record label, and looking up other bands/artists that label has also signed. Music labels tend to sign artists that are relatively similar (either in quality or style), so I find that a great way to find new music. If you enjoy British music, like I do, two channels I recommend are islandrecords and parlophone.
If you don't happen to have any Kraft Dinner, but you have a craving for some, I have a simple solution. Take your favourite pasta (not a stringy one like fettucini or linguini, but instead penne or shells) and boil it up. Then take a generous spoonful of Cheez Whiz and stir it in. It won't taste exactly like KD, but it's similar enough to count as passable. I actually think it's slightly better and it gives me the satisfaction of a "homemade" meal. The downside? It's one of the least healthy things you can ingest, but then so is regular KD.
Take a look at Johnny Flynn, he's a British folk singer/songwriter/musician:
ALERT: Here's a new feature that I hope I can remember to do every time I post. We'll see how that goes... A book recommendation section. I won't recommend something if I haven't read it. Simple book recommendation ettiquette, I think.
BOOK RECOMMENDATION
Juliet, Naked by Nick Hornby
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Arguing With Stupid People: A Guide For The Intellectually Gifted
Now I'm not the sharpest tack in the box, but I do have a high school diploma, some post-secondary education, and a thick wad of common sense under my belt, so I don't consider myself to be the dullest either. Whenever I encounter someone who is considerably less "sharp" than myself there are a few methods that I have found useful when forced to interact with these creatures: the creatures that shall be known henceforth as... stupid people.
Method One is to get out of the situation as fast as humanly possible. One of my most prominent traits is one that I am neither proud of nor hateful toward, it's just part of me, and that trait is bluntness; also known as being brutally honest without regard for emotional or social consequence. As I wrote that out I realize I probably should hate that trait, but I don't. When I am put into a situation that requires me to have a verbal exchange with a stupid person, this trait tends to rear it's ugly head fairly swiftly. In order to avoid the unfortunate consequences of insulting this person (however amusing it might be) I think one should attempt to find a way out of the conversation as quickly as possible. Let's be honest, the best way to survive an argument with a stupid person is to not start the argument in the first place. Avoid the inevitable. Common excuses like the need to get to class, the need to use the washroom, or the need to call your grandmother are all acceptable; however more creative excuses like the need to feed your pet iguana, the need to see a doctor about a rash of the nether-regions, or the need to have your aura cleansed by a shaman, would be unique and therefore more likely to be percieved as true by the stupid person. Although it wouldn't be hard to pull the wool over their eyes, as they are in fact, stupid.
Method Two is to politely correct any mistake(s) in a reasonable and rational manner. My explanation of Method Two might be scattered and unruly as I have never been successful in the execution of this method. I'm just not nice enough to pull it off without laughing halfway through and exclaiming, "I'm sorry, I can't do this, you're a moron." But here's how it might be done, if someone has the chops to see it through. Start with the word "actually", that will probably work. Then follow with the facts (whether it's grammar, scientific (physical, biological, psychological, or social) trivia, or just logical sense in general). I think this method could get quite frustrating if you encounter an individual with an astronomical level of stupidity, what with correcting nearly everything they say, and it might provoke violence or catty backtalk on their part. You'll also be seen as a "know-it-all" and that just won't do. If you get into an argument with a stupid person, this method might be the last resort. Stupid people can be quite stubborn in their ways, and many will refuse to be seen as wrong in fear that they will lose pride, "cred", or (in the male species' case) testosterone. Stupid and stubborn is an unfortunate combination. Rationality does not exist with these people. By trying to correct someone who really does not want to be corrected, you are just setting yourself up for unhappiness (and lots of yelling). I guess I can only recommend this method for use on occassions when their misinformation could be damaging to their perception of the world on a grand scale, and thus possibly detrimental to the society that interacts with them. If their only fault is that they think Chaka Khan is a buddhist prophet, I suggest you let it go and possibly go with this next method.
Method Three is to let them believe that they are right. Other than running away, this is the best way to leave the conversation unscathed. You will not have enlightened the stupid person or made the world any better, but you will live to see another day of avoiding idiocy. You know you are right, they think they are right, and the pendulum returns to it's monotonous swing. However, if you are one of those people who can't leave an argument without ensuring that the other person knows you are the one in the right, this method might be rather difficult for you. I should know. I used to be one of you. I healed myself cold turkey, but there are groups you can join in order to rid yourself of this frustrating habit. It only causes you pain. Once you learn how to live with the fact that there really is no changing the stupid person's mind no matter how beautifully thought out your argument was, you will become a more balanced person. Or at least less likely of developing an ulcer, if that's any consolation.
There is a Method Four, but I should say up front that I don't recommend it. I used this for years (and still do when my Method Three mantra fails me), but it never gained me any friends. It's what happens when I can't walk away fast enough. This method involves informing the stupid person that they are, in fact, stupid. It will be followed by them falling into the 5 stages of grief (denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance), but rarely does anyone actually make it past the denial stage. Instead they will just hate you. That or think you're joking and laugh it off. They are lucky they're so stupid. Life must be so much easier. Anyways, I don't recommend it. Let's face it, it's just mean.
I am going to conclude this guide with a short scene that is a completely true story that happened to me a few years ago, and should be an example of what not to do. The individuals shall remain anonymous, obviously.
INT. HIGH SCHOOL HALLWAY - DAY
JACKIE, FRIEND, and ANONYMOUS are walking through the hallway near the end of a spare period on a typical day at high school. They take their time, stopping to look at old graduation photos from years past. They stop at the one from 1973.
FRIEND
ANONYMOUS
Jackie blinks slowly.
Friend stifles laughter.
Anonymous grins obliviously.
ANONYMOUS
JACKIE
ANONYMOUS
JACKIE
ANONYMOUS
JACKIE
Method One is to get out of the situation as fast as humanly possible. One of my most prominent traits is one that I am neither proud of nor hateful toward, it's just part of me, and that trait is bluntness; also known as being brutally honest without regard for emotional or social consequence. As I wrote that out I realize I probably should hate that trait, but I don't. When I am put into a situation that requires me to have a verbal exchange with a stupid person, this trait tends to rear it's ugly head fairly swiftly. In order to avoid the unfortunate consequences of insulting this person (however amusing it might be) I think one should attempt to find a way out of the conversation as quickly as possible. Let's be honest, the best way to survive an argument with a stupid person is to not start the argument in the first place. Avoid the inevitable. Common excuses like the need to get to class, the need to use the washroom, or the need to call your grandmother are all acceptable; however more creative excuses like the need to feed your pet iguana, the need to see a doctor about a rash of the nether-regions, or the need to have your aura cleansed by a shaman, would be unique and therefore more likely to be percieved as true by the stupid person. Although it wouldn't be hard to pull the wool over their eyes, as they are in fact, stupid.
Method Two is to politely correct any mistake(s) in a reasonable and rational manner. My explanation of Method Two might be scattered and unruly as I have never been successful in the execution of this method. I'm just not nice enough to pull it off without laughing halfway through and exclaiming, "I'm sorry, I can't do this, you're a moron." But here's how it might be done, if someone has the chops to see it through. Start with the word "actually", that will probably work. Then follow with the facts (whether it's grammar, scientific (physical, biological, psychological, or social) trivia, or just logical sense in general). I think this method could get quite frustrating if you encounter an individual with an astronomical level of stupidity, what with correcting nearly everything they say, and it might provoke violence or catty backtalk on their part. You'll also be seen as a "know-it-all" and that just won't do. If you get into an argument with a stupid person, this method might be the last resort. Stupid people can be quite stubborn in their ways, and many will refuse to be seen as wrong in fear that they will lose pride, "cred", or (in the male species' case) testosterone. Stupid and stubborn is an unfortunate combination. Rationality does not exist with these people. By trying to correct someone who really does not want to be corrected, you are just setting yourself up for unhappiness (and lots of yelling). I guess I can only recommend this method for use on occassions when their misinformation could be damaging to their perception of the world on a grand scale, and thus possibly detrimental to the society that interacts with them. If their only fault is that they think Chaka Khan is a buddhist prophet, I suggest you let it go and possibly go with this next method.
Method Three is to let them believe that they are right. Other than running away, this is the best way to leave the conversation unscathed. You will not have enlightened the stupid person or made the world any better, but you will live to see another day of avoiding idiocy. You know you are right, they think they are right, and the pendulum returns to it's monotonous swing. However, if you are one of those people who can't leave an argument without ensuring that the other person knows you are the one in the right, this method might be rather difficult for you. I should know. I used to be one of you. I healed myself cold turkey, but there are groups you can join in order to rid yourself of this frustrating habit. It only causes you pain. Once you learn how to live with the fact that there really is no changing the stupid person's mind no matter how beautifully thought out your argument was, you will become a more balanced person. Or at least less likely of developing an ulcer, if that's any consolation.
There is a Method Four, but I should say up front that I don't recommend it. I used this for years (and still do when my Method Three mantra fails me), but it never gained me any friends. It's what happens when I can't walk away fast enough. This method involves informing the stupid person that they are, in fact, stupid. It will be followed by them falling into the 5 stages of grief (denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance), but rarely does anyone actually make it past the denial stage. Instead they will just hate you. That or think you're joking and laugh it off. They are lucky they're so stupid. Life must be so much easier. Anyways, I don't recommend it. Let's face it, it's just mean.
I am going to conclude this guide with a short scene that is a completely true story that happened to me a few years ago, and should be an example of what not to do. The individuals shall remain anonymous, obviously.
INT. HIGH SCHOOL HALLWAY - DAY
JACKIE, FRIEND, and ANONYMOUS are walking through the hallway near the end of a spare period on a typical day at high school. They take their time, stopping to look at old graduation photos from years past. They stop at the one from 1973.
ANONYMOUS
Why do they look so weird?
None of them are smiling.
FRIEND
Yeah, I guess it's kinda odd.
ANONYMOUS
Maybe it's because photography had only
just been invented and they weren't
used to having their picture taken.
Jackie blinks slowly.
Friend stifles laughter.
Anonymous grins obliviously.
JACKIE
Are you serious?
ANONYMOUS
What?
JACKIE
These are from 1973.
ANONYMOUS
Yeah?
JACKIE
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph...
ANONYMOUS
What?!
JACKIE
You're an idiot.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Minor Tactics of the Chalk Stream
OK, I'm bored.
I really shouldn't be. I'm in school, I have a part-time job. I have friends.
Yet, I'm bored.
Earlier this evening I did some painting (in terms of art on a canvas, not with rollers on a wall) and that was enjoyable. I got frustrated and took a step back, so now I'm here; reading Cracked articles and listening to a medley of McFly songs.
I've come up with a post that might not entertain readers so much as it is a time-waster for me. It will fill the time between now and an acceptable time for me to go to bed that doesn't make me feel like my grandmother after a strenuous day of watching squirrels chase each other on the front porch.
Right-O. I have done a Google experiment and a dictionary experiment, so now it's time for my Wikipedia experiment! Yay...
I shall hit the "random article" button a few times and see what I get. Say a few words about them, and move on. Sounds fun? I know, but bear with me.
Steinunn Finnsdottir
A female Icelandic poet. Wow, I had trouble writing that without dozing off. However, she did write about a woman who turned into a man, and another that turned into a dog. Same thing really. HIYO!
DuPont, Washington
A tiny city in Pierce County, Washington. I'm sorry, but I read that entire article and that just looks like, quite possible, the dullest place ever. I know that's not true, it's one of them "small town America" cities that America seems to be so darn proud of. There sure are enough of them down there. The most interesting thing I read was that it used to be a Hudson's Bay Company fort and at one point, they moved the entire fort upstream. Now I'm picturing Fort Calgary on one of those giant house-moving vehicles that go 2 km per hour.
Judy Tyler
She was Playboy magazine's Playmate of the Month for January of 1966. I tried to find a picture of her for this site, thinking it would be a funny throwback to the Playboy of the '60's, but I just ended up erasing my Google history and wishing I'd thought that out a bit more before searching. *shudder*
Cognac Public Garden
Imagine my disappointment that this is just an English-styled garden in France with a museum and a hotel. I was picturing fountains with cognac spewing from them for the public to stand under like giant water fountains.
Diana "Mousie" Lewis
She was a film actress and MGM contract star in the late '30's-early '40's. She is best known for being William Powell's wife. I just hope she didn't give herself that nickname. How unfortunate.
Elipsocidae
I quote from the article:
"Elipsocidae is a family of Psocoptera belonging to the suborder Homilopsocidea. Member of the family have a free areola postica. Many species are apterous."
It makes my brain sting.
Minor Tactics of the Chalk Stream
A book about fly-fishing. Written by G.E.M. Skues, this book marks his long campaign to restore the wet fly to its rightful place on the chalk streams of England. Apparently this book "put an end to the dry-fly purist and brought the angling world back to sanity." Wow, who knew wet fly fishing was such an impassioned subject? I guess I just never expected the crafty bait and slaughter of aquatic vertebrates to attract such controversy...
List of Clifford the Big Red Dog episodes
I desperately want to meet the person who took the time to write out this list. I'm picturing an old Croatian man with a comb-over and green argyle sweater typing out this list for his wife, who doesn't know how to use a computer but still wants the world to know about Clifford, the big red dog that taught her how to speak English and how to be a friend.
Cervical spinal nerve 4
This spinal nerve controls the thoracic diaphragm and inspired a medical mnemonic: "Cut C4, breathe no more." Jesus Christ. With teachings like these, medical schools are breeding grounds for new Jack The Rippers or Jack Kevorkians.
OK, that's enough. I just killed... an hour and a half. Wow, I can almost hear the woosh of my life passing me by. Oh well, I'm off to watch House, then Blackadder.
I love the title of that fly-fishing book so much that it will be the title of this blog post, even if it makes no logical sense.
Bye.
I really shouldn't be. I'm in school, I have a part-time job. I have friends.
Yet, I'm bored.
Earlier this evening I did some painting (in terms of art on a canvas, not with rollers on a wall) and that was enjoyable. I got frustrated and took a step back, so now I'm here; reading Cracked articles and listening to a medley of McFly songs.
I've come up with a post that might not entertain readers so much as it is a time-waster for me. It will fill the time between now and an acceptable time for me to go to bed that doesn't make me feel like my grandmother after a strenuous day of watching squirrels chase each other on the front porch.
Right-O. I have done a Google experiment and a dictionary experiment, so now it's time for my Wikipedia experiment! Yay...
I shall hit the "random article" button a few times and see what I get. Say a few words about them, and move on. Sounds fun? I know, but bear with me.
Steinunn Finnsdottir
A female Icelandic poet. Wow, I had trouble writing that without dozing off. However, she did write about a woman who turned into a man, and another that turned into a dog. Same thing really. HIYO!
DuPont, Washington
A tiny city in Pierce County, Washington. I'm sorry, but I read that entire article and that just looks like, quite possible, the dullest place ever. I know that's not true, it's one of them "small town America" cities that America seems to be so darn proud of. There sure are enough of them down there. The most interesting thing I read was that it used to be a Hudson's Bay Company fort and at one point, they moved the entire fort upstream. Now I'm picturing Fort Calgary on one of those giant house-moving vehicles that go 2 km per hour.
Judy Tyler
She was Playboy magazine's Playmate of the Month for January of 1966. I tried to find a picture of her for this site, thinking it would be a funny throwback to the Playboy of the '60's, but I just ended up erasing my Google history and wishing I'd thought that out a bit more before searching. *shudder*
Cognac Public Garden
Imagine my disappointment that this is just an English-styled garden in France with a museum and a hotel. I was picturing fountains with cognac spewing from them for the public to stand under like giant water fountains.
Diana "Mousie" Lewis
She was a film actress and MGM contract star in the late '30's-early '40's. She is best known for being William Powell's wife. I just hope she didn't give herself that nickname. How unfortunate.
Elipsocidae
I quote from the article:
"Elipsocidae is a family of Psocoptera belonging to the suborder Homilopsocidea. Member of the family have a free areola postica. Many species are apterous."
It makes my brain sting.
Minor Tactics of the Chalk Stream
A book about fly-fishing. Written by G.E.M. Skues, this book marks his long campaign to restore the wet fly to its rightful place on the chalk streams of England. Apparently this book "put an end to the dry-fly purist and brought the angling world back to sanity." Wow, who knew wet fly fishing was such an impassioned subject? I guess I just never expected the crafty bait and slaughter of aquatic vertebrates to attract such controversy...
List of Clifford the Big Red Dog episodes
I desperately want to meet the person who took the time to write out this list. I'm picturing an old Croatian man with a comb-over and green argyle sweater typing out this list for his wife, who doesn't know how to use a computer but still wants the world to know about Clifford, the big red dog that taught her how to speak English and how to be a friend.
Cervical spinal nerve 4
This spinal nerve controls the thoracic diaphragm and inspired a medical mnemonic: "Cut C4, breathe no more." Jesus Christ. With teachings like these, medical schools are breeding grounds for new Jack The Rippers or Jack Kevorkians.
OK, that's enough. I just killed... an hour and a half. Wow, I can almost hear the woosh of my life passing me by. Oh well, I'm off to watch House, then Blackadder.
I love the title of that fly-fishing book so much that it will be the title of this blog post, even if it makes no logical sense.
Bye.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Confidence Man
It has happened, ladies and gentlemen. It has finally... happened.
I knew it happened to other people, I've seen it happen on TV, but it has never happened to me.
Until now.
To be honest, it makes me feel special. It makes me feel like someone chose me, and it makes me feel utterly... utterly... special.
I have finally been the target of a money scam. A con. A beautiful attempt at swindling.
Being the keenly intelligent individual that I am saved me from falling victim to said scam, but it was entertaining to be involved in.
I got an e-mail from someone using the address of NoD Magazine, a literary magazine run through the University of Calgary. They have my e-mail address because of communications I had with them previously, and this crafty hacker managed to use it. So, obviously, I opened the e-mail that I thought was from the magazine, but upon reading it I emitted a satisfied chuckle at the fact that I - yes, me - had been sent a con e-mail. Here is the e-mail of which I speak (I have not altered the wording, grammar, or spelling in any way):
Good morning,
How are you doing? Hope all is well with you and family, I know this might be a surprise to you but I am sorry I didn't inform you about my traveling to Scotland for a Seminar . It was so Urgent and I just have to be at the seminar. Please I want to confide in you and I want it private between us because I don’t want my other family members or friends to get worried over this predicament of mine. I was attacked on my way to the hotel I lodged, although I wasn't hurt because I complied immediately but my mobile phone and luggage were stolen. What bothered me most is my Cards but I have called the card company and blocked my cards and I have also been to the embassy to reschedule my flight. Aside these, I need to sort out some vital issues including my bills.
Please I need financial assistance. I would like you to help me with £1,400 pounds or any amount you could afford. I will refund you upon my arrival back home. Let me know if you would be able to help me with the money or any amount you could afford. If you will be able to help me with the money then you can go to the nearest western union outlet or into any nearest bank and use the western union money transfer service to transfer the money to me directly. Below are the details you will need to make the transfer on my name at the Western union office. After the transfer, just email me the money transfer control number [MTCN] on the receipt. I will be able to receive the money here immediately with my passport. Also do let me know how you want me to pay you back so I can make the arrangements to get it to you as soon as I get back home.
Name: Kye Kocher
Address: Worsley Park - Worsley Manchester,
M28 2QT United Kingdom
Looking forward to your positive response.
Kye
Wasn't that simply luminous with enough exquisite, devastating, and delectable gorgeousness as to render the very princess of ravishing beauteousness speechless? Yes, I think so too.
My favourite aspect, I think, is the wording. He writes as if he knows me, or I'm supposed to recognize his name from somewhere (which I don't). Like he cares about my family. Psh. He even nicely asks me to keep his little predicament a secret. Sorry, bro. Looking forward to my positive response? What response is that? One where I don't send him a debilitating computer virus?
I figured Mr. Kocher (what an ironic name) wouldn't mind me sharing his name and address with the "world", seeing as it's surely fake. There's not even a number on his address. I suppose the postman will deliver it to the middle of Worsley Park and he'll just be there. I had an enormous urge to respond to this email, but I realized it would just get sent to the NoD Magazine address and they would be bewildered and perhaps put-off by my tone (one of anger and curiosity, with a hint of amused gratitude).
Now all I can hope for you, darling friends, is that you should one day be as lucky as me. Lucky enough to recieve such a finely crafted specimen of con-artistry, yet smart enough to ignore it completely.
Bon, il faut que je parte.
I knew it happened to other people, I've seen it happen on TV, but it has never happened to me.
Until now.
To be honest, it makes me feel special. It makes me feel like someone chose me, and it makes me feel utterly... utterly... special.
I have finally been the target of a money scam. A con. A beautiful attempt at swindling.
Being the keenly intelligent individual that I am saved me from falling victim to said scam, but it was entertaining to be involved in.
I got an e-mail from someone using the address of NoD Magazine, a literary magazine run through the University of Calgary. They have my e-mail address because of communications I had with them previously, and this crafty hacker managed to use it. So, obviously, I opened the e-mail that I thought was from the magazine, but upon reading it I emitted a satisfied chuckle at the fact that I - yes, me - had been sent a con e-mail. Here is the e-mail of which I speak (I have not altered the wording, grammar, or spelling in any way):
Good morning,
How are you doing? Hope all is well with you and family, I know this might be a surprise to you but I am sorry I didn't inform you about my traveling to Scotland for a Seminar . It was so Urgent and I just have to be at the seminar. Please I want to confide in you and I want it private between us because I don’t want my other family members or friends to get worried over this predicament of mine. I was attacked on my way to the hotel I lodged, although I wasn't hurt because I complied immediately but my mobile phone and luggage were stolen. What bothered me most is my Cards but I have called the card company and blocked my cards and I have also been to the embassy to reschedule my flight. Aside these, I need to sort out some vital issues including my bills.
Please I need financial assistance. I would like you to help me with £1,400 pounds or any amount you could afford. I will refund you upon my arrival back home. Let me know if you would be able to help me with the money or any amount you could afford. If you will be able to help me with the money then you can go to the nearest western union outlet or into any nearest bank and use the western union money transfer service to transfer the money to me directly. Below are the details you will need to make the transfer on my name at the Western union office. After the transfer, just email me the money transfer control number [MTCN] on the receipt. I will be able to receive the money here immediately with my passport. Also do let me know how you want me to pay you back so I can make the arrangements to get it to you as soon as I get back home.
Name: Kye Kocher
Address: Worsley Park - Worsley Manchester,
M28 2QT United Kingdom
Looking forward to your positive response.
Kye
Wasn't that simply luminous with enough exquisite, devastating, and delectable gorgeousness as to render the very princess of ravishing beauteousness speechless? Yes, I think so too.
My favourite aspect, I think, is the wording. He writes as if he knows me, or I'm supposed to recognize his name from somewhere (which I don't). Like he cares about my family. Psh. He even nicely asks me to keep his little predicament a secret. Sorry, bro. Looking forward to my positive response? What response is that? One where I don't send him a debilitating computer virus?
I figured Mr. Kocher (what an ironic name) wouldn't mind me sharing his name and address with the "world", seeing as it's surely fake. There's not even a number on his address. I suppose the postman will deliver it to the middle of Worsley Park and he'll just be there. I had an enormous urge to respond to this email, but I realized it would just get sent to the NoD Magazine address and they would be bewildered and perhaps put-off by my tone (one of anger and curiosity, with a hint of amused gratitude).
Now all I can hope for you, darling friends, is that you should one day be as lucky as me. Lucky enough to recieve such a finely crafted specimen of con-artistry, yet smart enough to ignore it completely.
Bon, il faut que je parte.
Monday, January 17, 2011
Sarcasm: A Guide For The Passive-Aggressive
I consider myself to be a connoiseur of the delicacies and intricacies in the art of sarcasm, and I am delighted and giddy and darling and squeeky and crunchy and silly and grandiloquently elated to be sharing, with you, these little fibres of wisdom which you will then weave into an exquisite tapestry of passive-aggressiveness and sly, malevolent wit.
I think the reason I direct this little "how to" (as you do) towards persons who consider themselves to be passive-aggressive is because you already have the vanilla ice cream. It's so much easier to add the Bailey's/chocolate sauce topping that is sarcasm to a well-built (albeit bland) foundation of sweet, creamy passive-aggressiveness. To be clear, I mean the unattractive character trait version of passive-aggressiveness, not the personality disorder. However blurred that border may be, I do not want to be accused of insensitivity towards the persons unfortunate enough to be afflicted with a disorder that counts procrastination, sulking, and irresponsibility as its defining symptoms.
To be sarcastic, one could possibly say, is to be witty in an often creatively wounding and contemptuous way. However, as I have explored over the decades of my life (of which there have been two), I have realized that there are two forms of sarcasm.
Type I Sarcasm is one of humour. Shared among friends, comfortable aquiantances, favourable family members, and other such relatables, sarcasm can be an amusing form of delightfulness intended only to "poke fun" as they say in some 19th century noble circles. This form draws upon a particular flaw or unflattering characteristic of a certain person or persons of universal traits and emphasizes this flaw in such a way that it employs the use of wit or general jubilance in order to recognize its absurdity, mild inferiority, or even just its abnormality in comparison to things of a similar but more commonplace nature. Now, this type of sarcasm is relatively easy to detect as it is usually accompanied by an earnest smile or general joyous expression on the face of the person employing the use of Type I Sarcasm. This honest, gleeful expression at the successful implementation of humourous sarcasm may often appear alongside a friendly gesture such as elbow nudge, a sassy shrug of the shoulders, or even a swatting of a hand (right or left) through the air in a careless, yet hopelessly endearing, fashion. Be not afraid of or hateful towards the use of Type I Sarcasm. It is, as I and my lovely kinship of imagination like to call it, the friendship sarcasm. It is a way of signifying that you are comfortable enough with an individual that you are not afraid of losing their (platonic or otherwise) affections because you recognize and voice a minor flaw in their character or abilities. It's a grand step toward building new relationships on a modern, but still magnanimous, level. I think I should mention the keyword "minor" here. Choosing a minor flaw is easy and one that the recipient is surely already aware of and ambivalent toward, so "poking fun" at it isn't causing them personal or emotional harm by letting on that other humans (besides themselves) are aware of this flaw. Turning major flaws into sarcastic remarks is only a good idea if your goal in life is impotency. That brings me to the next type.
Type II Sarcasm is one of malice. While this type of sarcasm is used usually in firey and impassioned confrontations between persons who, most likely, do not appreciate the time spent in each others company and, quite possibly, have endured previous occassions of unpleasantness in the presence of one another. In short, Type II is the sarcasm of the hurtful. It is the sarcasm that is designed to inflict the most psychological woundage on the humanly target and is very hard to undo in an immediate fashion by using more words (no matter how linguistically, syntactically, or dialectically proficient you are). It is hard, as an even somewhat moral homo sapiens, to recommend the usage of Type II Sarcasm, because it's primary intention is to cause emotional pain. However, as I have experienced on many an occassion, it certainly has its place. Use it sparingly, but when you do, make sure it's enough to carve your initials like Zorro on the very core of their identity and to parade their insecurities in front of them like their mother unleashed unto the universe a collosal evil just by giving birth to them. Quite simple really.
I think it's important, at this point in the instruction, to continue with the definition of sarcasm in it's proper (yet still divided) context. The key to sarcasm is that it is essentially a (playful or otherwise) insult that has been put in reverse form and paired with physically manifested emotions. To use an example in this situation would illustrate my point more clearly. To say "your parrot has a very substantial eating problem" would be a comment of constructive criticism, one that does not qualify as sarcasm due to it's drabness and overall lack of spunk. To say "your parrot is really fat" is just a plain insult, without jazzy over- or under-tones, or any imagination whatsoever. To say "so I see your parrot is a Weight Watchers success story" is sarcasm. It combines the obvious visual nature of the overweight parrot, with the verbal contradictory statement that it must have recently lost some poundage (or depending on the breed of parrot, ouncage). The sarcasm user knows it's false, the parrot owner knows it's false, and the parrot (undoubtedly) also knows it's false; however, the sentence possesses a contradiction that makes the target question the motives behind the comment. The sarcasm user will often use indicative gestures or expressions like eye-rolls, eye-brow raises, goofy smirks, huffy chuckles, and foot shuffling to indicate sarcasm. To say "your parrot is chunky to the max, yo" should be avoided at all costs, for the sake of humanity.
It is the paradoxical nature of sarcasm that makes it exceedingly hard to recognize in textual form; more specifically, over the internetscape. I suggest refraining from using sarcasm unless you are absolutely sure that your tone of script can only be interpreted in the way that you intended. This takes a very skilled sarcasm artist, and if you have been recieved successfully in the past, I tip my metaphorical top-hat in your direction.
As I bring us to the conclusion of this little "how to", I should like to remind you that sarcasm is considered one of the premiere linguistic fine arts and should be treated as such. Don't toss it about willy nilly. Treat it with care. Nurse it. Dress it. Make it your own. Don't dare turn it into a frivolity of common verbal exchange. Show some respect. Taking that with you, march forth and pummel fair citizens with your dry, graceful, steely tongue and watch as people either crumble under your charms or flee, weeping from your presence.
Good day.
I think the reason I direct this little "how to" (as you do) towards persons who consider themselves to be passive-aggressive is because you already have the vanilla ice cream. It's so much easier to add the Bailey's/chocolate sauce topping that is sarcasm to a well-built (albeit bland) foundation of sweet, creamy passive-aggressiveness. To be clear, I mean the unattractive character trait version of passive-aggressiveness, not the personality disorder. However blurred that border may be, I do not want to be accused of insensitivity towards the persons unfortunate enough to be afflicted with a disorder that counts procrastination, sulking, and irresponsibility as its defining symptoms.
To be sarcastic, one could possibly say, is to be witty in an often creatively wounding and contemptuous way. However, as I have explored over the decades of my life (of which there have been two), I have realized that there are two forms of sarcasm.
Type I Sarcasm is one of humour. Shared among friends, comfortable aquiantances, favourable family members, and other such relatables, sarcasm can be an amusing form of delightfulness intended only to "poke fun" as they say in some 19th century noble circles. This form draws upon a particular flaw or unflattering characteristic of a certain person or persons of universal traits and emphasizes this flaw in such a way that it employs the use of wit or general jubilance in order to recognize its absurdity, mild inferiority, or even just its abnormality in comparison to things of a similar but more commonplace nature. Now, this type of sarcasm is relatively easy to detect as it is usually accompanied by an earnest smile or general joyous expression on the face of the person employing the use of Type I Sarcasm. This honest, gleeful expression at the successful implementation of humourous sarcasm may often appear alongside a friendly gesture such as elbow nudge, a sassy shrug of the shoulders, or even a swatting of a hand (right or left) through the air in a careless, yet hopelessly endearing, fashion. Be not afraid of or hateful towards the use of Type I Sarcasm. It is, as I and my lovely kinship of imagination like to call it, the friendship sarcasm. It is a way of signifying that you are comfortable enough with an individual that you are not afraid of losing their (platonic or otherwise) affections because you recognize and voice a minor flaw in their character or abilities. It's a grand step toward building new relationships on a modern, but still magnanimous, level. I think I should mention the keyword "minor" here. Choosing a minor flaw is easy and one that the recipient is surely already aware of and ambivalent toward, so "poking fun" at it isn't causing them personal or emotional harm by letting on that other humans (besides themselves) are aware of this flaw. Turning major flaws into sarcastic remarks is only a good idea if your goal in life is impotency. That brings me to the next type.
Type II Sarcasm is one of malice. While this type of sarcasm is used usually in firey and impassioned confrontations between persons who, most likely, do not appreciate the time spent in each others company and, quite possibly, have endured previous occassions of unpleasantness in the presence of one another. In short, Type II is the sarcasm of the hurtful. It is the sarcasm that is designed to inflict the most psychological woundage on the humanly target and is very hard to undo in an immediate fashion by using more words (no matter how linguistically, syntactically, or dialectically proficient you are). It is hard, as an even somewhat moral homo sapiens, to recommend the usage of Type II Sarcasm, because it's primary intention is to cause emotional pain. However, as I have experienced on many an occassion, it certainly has its place. Use it sparingly, but when you do, make sure it's enough to carve your initials like Zorro on the very core of their identity and to parade their insecurities in front of them like their mother unleashed unto the universe a collosal evil just by giving birth to them. Quite simple really.
I think it's important, at this point in the instruction, to continue with the definition of sarcasm in it's proper (yet still divided) context. The key to sarcasm is that it is essentially a (playful or otherwise) insult that has been put in reverse form and paired with physically manifested emotions. To use an example in this situation would illustrate my point more clearly. To say "your parrot has a very substantial eating problem" would be a comment of constructive criticism, one that does not qualify as sarcasm due to it's drabness and overall lack of spunk. To say "your parrot is really fat" is just a plain insult, without jazzy over- or under-tones, or any imagination whatsoever. To say "so I see your parrot is a Weight Watchers success story" is sarcasm. It combines the obvious visual nature of the overweight parrot, with the verbal contradictory statement that it must have recently lost some poundage (or depending on the breed of parrot, ouncage). The sarcasm user knows it's false, the parrot owner knows it's false, and the parrot (undoubtedly) also knows it's false; however, the sentence possesses a contradiction that makes the target question the motives behind the comment. The sarcasm user will often use indicative gestures or expressions like eye-rolls, eye-brow raises, goofy smirks, huffy chuckles, and foot shuffling to indicate sarcasm. To say "your parrot is chunky to the max, yo" should be avoided at all costs, for the sake of humanity.
It is the paradoxical nature of sarcasm that makes it exceedingly hard to recognize in textual form; more specifically, over the internetscape. I suggest refraining from using sarcasm unless you are absolutely sure that your tone of script can only be interpreted in the way that you intended. This takes a very skilled sarcasm artist, and if you have been recieved successfully in the past, I tip my metaphorical top-hat in your direction.
As I bring us to the conclusion of this little "how to", I should like to remind you that sarcasm is considered one of the premiere linguistic fine arts and should be treated as such. Don't toss it about willy nilly. Treat it with care. Nurse it. Dress it. Make it your own. Don't dare turn it into a frivolity of common verbal exchange. Show some respect. Taking that with you, march forth and pummel fair citizens with your dry, graceful, steely tongue and watch as people either crumble under your charms or flee, weeping from your presence.
Good day.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
It's Sharin' Time, Folks
And I don't mean secret fantasies or sexual organs.
Here are a few lists. They are in list form because recent studies show that people are more likely to skim through a list of things in point form than they are to read full-blown paragraphs. I'm not sure who conducted these studies. The Institute of Completely Unnecessary Studies. I think they also did that study that said that people who read irrelevant blogs on the internet are generally lazier than the average paperback novel reader. I'm not having a go. I fall into both categories.
Here are a few lists of my recommendations of things you should definately take a look at this coming year. If you don't have any of these (and are too lazy to buy them) I can lend them to you. No I won't. I'll never get them back you cheeky slag.
OK, some lists. They are not ranked. Numbers mean nothing. Just lists.
BOOKS
1. On Writing by Stephen King
Beautifully written and essential reading for anyone who even has the slightest interest in writing anything. I will put everything in perspective for you.
2. The Gun Seller by Hugh Laurie
Yes, that Hugh Laurie. It's a hilarious book. How can it not be? It's written by Hugh bloody Laurie! However, it's also a great story, really well written.
3. Disquiet, Please: An Anthology of Humour Writing from The New Yorker
This is an anthology of humour pieces that were published in The New Yorker, written by the best of the best in comedy writing. I laughed out loud. That's rare with books.
4. The City and The Pillar by Gore Vidal
Yes, I know, I know. It seems like such a literary choice. No, I'm not getting pretentious on you (OK, maybe a little), but it's an incredible book. The end will leave your mouth like mine: agape.
5. American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis
Not for the faint of heart. Lots of sex and violence. Go read it now. You'll be glad you did, you little minx.
MOVIES
1. Tangled
Yes, the animated Disney movie. You might think I'm soft, but I totally cried during the lantern scene. Way to bring back the animated princess musical, Disney. *Thumbs up*
2. Inception
While I'm not as much of a fan of this movie as it seems everyone else is, it certainly was a great film. Go see it. Judge for yourself. You have to go deeper.
3. I Love You Philip Morris
I haven't seen this one yet, but I will see it soon, God help me. I think you should see it anyway. I think it's important that you do.
4. Leon: The Professional
It's one of those movies that you either love it, or you misunderstood it and got creeped out, so you hate it. I loved it. Frankly, if you don't love it, you should have your movie-watching priviledges taken away because you obviously can't tell a good movie from a gunshot wound in your left asscheek from where Gary Oldman will shoot you.
5. A Touch of Pink
This is my shout-out to Canadian film. It's no classic, but it's really cute and I love it.
TELEVISION
1. Blackadder
I think no one should die without seeing all four seasons of Blackadder (plus all those extra movie-things they did). You will pee yourself laughing. I know I did. Kidding.
2. Fawlty Towers
Same here. Don't you go dying until you've seen it. It will only take you a day to watch both seasons. You can spare the time.
3. Brothers & Sisters
I loves my melodrama and this series has plenty of it, but it is also hilarious and really well done. Check it out.
4. A Bit of Fry and Laurie
I think I've already explained the virtues of this show enough. If you haven't checked it out already... Why do I even bother sharing genius?
5. Columbo
Because you haven't lived until you see Peter Falk massage his brow with cigar wielding fingers and mutter "Oh, and just one more thing..."
ALBUMS (Music, that is...)
1. God Willin' & The Creek Don't Rise - Ray LaMontagne & The Pariah Dogs
Honestly one of the best albums I've ever heard. Ever. Ray LaMontagne's other albums are seriously worth checking out as well. Ray is one of those artists that I actually have to stop listening to him for a little while because he is just TOO good.
2. Dave Matthews and Tim Reynolds Live at Radio City Music Hall
This is a live album and it's better than most studio albums. They are both genius and I could listen to Dave all day long. Sometimes I actually swoon. Or what I equate with swooning because I'm not sure exactly what swooning entails. Just leaning back with my hand on my chest, smiling with a heavy sigh. Swoon. Check out the DVD of this concert too, which I also have.
3. Hands All Over - Maroon 5
This one is just so much freaking fun. All of the songs have me dancing or singing along. As are all their albums, actually.
4. Tourist History - Two Door Cinema Club
I mentioned this in my last post. Great album, such a unique and creative sound. For a debut album, it's a complete hit.
5. Sigh No More - Mumford & Sons
These guys are incredible. This is also their debut album, and it's bringing folk rock back into style, only a million times better.
Here's a song from God Willin' & The Creek Don't Rise called Like Rock & Roll and Radio. Feel the genius.
I'ma quit while I'm ahead, I think. I've tossed around the word genius more than a cat is swung in places where there is room to swing a cat.
Ta-ra.
Here are a few lists. They are in list form because recent studies show that people are more likely to skim through a list of things in point form than they are to read full-blown paragraphs. I'm not sure who conducted these studies. The Institute of Completely Unnecessary Studies. I think they also did that study that said that people who read irrelevant blogs on the internet are generally lazier than the average paperback novel reader. I'm not having a go. I fall into both categories.
Here are a few lists of my recommendations of things you should definately take a look at this coming year. If you don't have any of these (and are too lazy to buy them) I can lend them to you. No I won't. I'll never get them back you cheeky slag.
OK, some lists. They are not ranked. Numbers mean nothing. Just lists.
BOOKS
1. On Writing by Stephen King
Beautifully written and essential reading for anyone who even has the slightest interest in writing anything. I will put everything in perspective for you.
2. The Gun Seller by Hugh Laurie
Yes, that Hugh Laurie. It's a hilarious book. How can it not be? It's written by Hugh bloody Laurie! However, it's also a great story, really well written.
3. Disquiet, Please: An Anthology of Humour Writing from The New Yorker
This is an anthology of humour pieces that were published in The New Yorker, written by the best of the best in comedy writing. I laughed out loud. That's rare with books.
4. The City and The Pillar by Gore Vidal
Yes, I know, I know. It seems like such a literary choice. No, I'm not getting pretentious on you (OK, maybe a little), but it's an incredible book. The end will leave your mouth like mine: agape.
5. American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis
Not for the faint of heart. Lots of sex and violence. Go read it now. You'll be glad you did, you little minx.
MOVIES
1. Tangled
Yes, the animated Disney movie. You might think I'm soft, but I totally cried during the lantern scene. Way to bring back the animated princess musical, Disney. *Thumbs up*
2. Inception
While I'm not as much of a fan of this movie as it seems everyone else is, it certainly was a great film. Go see it. Judge for yourself. You have to go deeper.
3. I Love You Philip Morris
I haven't seen this one yet, but I will see it soon, God help me. I think you should see it anyway. I think it's important that you do.
4. Leon: The Professional
It's one of those movies that you either love it, or you misunderstood it and got creeped out, so you hate it. I loved it. Frankly, if you don't love it, you should have your movie-watching priviledges taken away because you obviously can't tell a good movie from a gunshot wound in your left asscheek from where Gary Oldman will shoot you.
5. A Touch of Pink
This is my shout-out to Canadian film. It's no classic, but it's really cute and I love it.
TELEVISION
1. Blackadder
I think no one should die without seeing all four seasons of Blackadder (plus all those extra movie-things they did). You will pee yourself laughing. I know I did. Kidding.
2. Fawlty Towers
Same here. Don't you go dying until you've seen it. It will only take you a day to watch both seasons. You can spare the time.
3. Brothers & Sisters
I loves my melodrama and this series has plenty of it, but it is also hilarious and really well done. Check it out.
4. A Bit of Fry and Laurie
I think I've already explained the virtues of this show enough. If you haven't checked it out already... Why do I even bother sharing genius?
5. Columbo
Because you haven't lived until you see Peter Falk massage his brow with cigar wielding fingers and mutter "Oh, and just one more thing..."
ALBUMS (Music, that is...)
1. God Willin' & The Creek Don't Rise - Ray LaMontagne & The Pariah Dogs
Honestly one of the best albums I've ever heard. Ever. Ray LaMontagne's other albums are seriously worth checking out as well. Ray is one of those artists that I actually have to stop listening to him for a little while because he is just TOO good.
2. Dave Matthews and Tim Reynolds Live at Radio City Music Hall
This is a live album and it's better than most studio albums. They are both genius and I could listen to Dave all day long. Sometimes I actually swoon. Or what I equate with swooning because I'm not sure exactly what swooning entails. Just leaning back with my hand on my chest, smiling with a heavy sigh. Swoon. Check out the DVD of this concert too, which I also have.
3. Hands All Over - Maroon 5
This one is just so much freaking fun. All of the songs have me dancing or singing along. As are all their albums, actually.
4. Tourist History - Two Door Cinema Club
I mentioned this in my last post. Great album, such a unique and creative sound. For a debut album, it's a complete hit.
5. Sigh No More - Mumford & Sons
These guys are incredible. This is also their debut album, and it's bringing folk rock back into style, only a million times better.
Here's a song from God Willin' & The Creek Don't Rise called Like Rock & Roll and Radio. Feel the genius.
I'ma quit while I'm ahead, I think. I've tossed around the word genius more than a cat is swung in places where there is room to swing a cat.
Ta-ra.
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