Grain of Salt

Now, before I even begin, I must preface this little mousy-squeaky post, this whisper of uncertainty and doubt and anti-communitarianism that will hopefully go unnoticed and unremarked, this little strung-together line of characters drunkenly hunt-and-pecked out late in the evening on a day in which I found that for some reason my IQ unexpectedly and inexplicably dropped about 40 points or so, I must introduce this with the admission that I’ve had a drink or two. This should not be a surprise to you, dear reader.

But : lately, repeatedly, and consistently, I’ve found my InTarWeb HerOes, the men (and yes, most, well, OK, pretty much all of my real leftover-from-Spiderman-pajamas heroes, at least on this IntArWeB thing, are men) for whom in the last while, since I’ve become interested in what’s happening out amongst the Magesticallanic Clouds Of Bits, I have come to have respect and to like and perhaps wish to emulate, imitate, celebrate or alternately crush like bugs (being as it is the eternal and everlasting man-desire, no sh-t Dick Tracy, to destroy and supplant the alpha-male bing bang boom) -

take a breath, wonderchicken

those fine gentlemen have disappointed me, badly. You slack bastards. Icons, idols, they’re leaving me colder than an arctic char’s ass (and I don’t even know if fish have asses, but carry on my wayward son carry on) of late. Need I explain why? No! f–k that. I’m just venting here, and the fridge is calling.

I’m going to drink a few more beers, and watch Waking Life again. This post may well disappear when I wake up tomorrow.

Well, whatever. Nevermind.

It's a damn good question

The question on the table is : ‘who do you believe‘?

My answer is : not even my own mother.

Edit : Stuff like this - “As U.S. officials continued to issue warnings yesterday about the possibility of attacks by suicide bombers and terrorists, the White House quietly acknowledged that the threats are not urgent and that they are partly motivated by political objectives” – makes me considerably less inclined to believe The Little President That Could and his pack of weasels, though. How about you? Is it excessively hyperbolic to call them worthless scum?

No, no, I didn’t think so.

[via the usual suspects]

I had no idea…

When the movie Wayne’s World was released in Latin America, a lot of the film’s American idiom and idiosyncratic language didn’t translate well, if at all. As a result, many of the phrases and expressions were translated into something very different in the subtitles or dubbing.

For example, when Wayne exclaimed (much to my amusement, which is a shame with which I must forever deal) “Shyaaa! And monkeys might fly out of my butt!” it got changed to, “Yes, when Judgment Day comes,” or “Si, cuándo llegue el día del juicio.”

What I don’t get is why it was felt that Spanish speakers would find the image of monkeys flying from someone’s butt any less comprehensible or immediately interpretable as indicating a highly unlikely event than Anglophones would. I’m enormously curious now about how that phrase got translated in other languages when the movie was released elsewhere.

Most amusing, as really dumb things frequently are.

Kiss me Noam, you old fool

People love to hate cranky old uncle Chomsky, and it’s no surprise really, with the stuff he goes around saying in these dissent-discouraging times. This recent CBC interview with him shows him in fine form, talking about the same things he usually does, jumping up and down on the head of the interviewer, uttering the word ‘No’ more times that I’ve ever seen anyone say it before in a single conversation. For what it’s worth, though, I agree with many of the things he has to say about governments, and about the press. I’m aware that’s an unpopular thing to say, and that many consider him a loon.

Something like this, though, doesn’t seem to me to be the words of a lunatic. On the contrary, it seems quite lucid indeed :

“What I’m saying is that as long as people, ordinary people, are able to free themselves from the doctrinal controls imposed on them by their self-appointed betters and mentors, as long as they’re able to do this, they’ll continue to be able to struggle for peace and justice and freedom and limitations on violence, and constraints on power, as they’ve been doing for hundreds of years. And I don’t see any end to that. Where it’ll end up in the long run, I’d tell you where I’d like it to, but I wouldn’t even dream about that.

The immediate problem is to free ourselves from the shackles imposed, very consciously, by the kind of people you’re talking about. Who don’t want the facts to be known. And for very good reasons. Because if people know the facts they aren’t going to tolerate them. So therefore you have to prevent them from knowing. You have to indoctrinate them, you have to tell them stories about how we’re really good guys, and if we use violence, it must be for the general good because we represent the course of history.”

[more]

Speaking of hypocrisy, and the Chomster does, this piece covers well-trodden ground, but worth a read nonetheless, perhaps :

“Hypocrisy, as La Rochefoucauld observed, is the homage that vice pays to virtue. In the case of Bush, campaign lies are the homage that Republican sloganeering paid to the popularity of Democratic ideology. [...] As ideological fraud, then, George W. Bush remains in a class by himself. It’s understandable why he does it: Democrats’ domestic positions are basically popular. But why does he get away with it? He pulls it off, I think, for several reasons (of which September 11 is fairly far down the list). “

[more]

Are we in the weblogging community shouldering the burden of that responsibility to preserve the right of people to know the facts, as traditional media increasing fails in its role as watchdog?

I cetainly don’t know. But that should be clear, sporting as I do a tagline like the truth can blow me.

Edit : An interesting exchange between the Chomster and Christopher Hitchens.

It Just Feels Right, Baby

Cheesily riffing on the erudititudinosity and linkeriffomafication of Tom’s recent post, I give you this darn-near equally-recent popular image (which I did not make) found at the Site Which Must Not Be Named.

Heh.

Bush Help.jpg

Edit : I have discovered that this image originally came from the SomethingAwful forums. SA rocks. Or is that San Dimas Football? sh-t, I dunno. But the bad, bad man who posted it to Filepile didn’t credit it. Apologies.

..And on another note entirely

Mike has come through the fire mostly intact, it would seem, and singing that song of his that I’ve so grown to love. You’re an inspiration to me, you beautiful, long-winded bastard, you. If I have to hunt you down and kill you, like the buddha, it will be out of pure love. This one’s for you. Welcome back, my friend.

Shriekback – Gunning for the Buddha

Mark and Danny in the Greek Hotel

Bold as badgers on a one-take Mission

Got their equipment from a dwarf outside

On the trail of any suspect wisdom

Pond-Life beneath a Southern sky

(They make their move then they head off to the border)

They don’t care as long as you can pay -

Whatever – whatever they say

We’re on the road and we’re gunning for the Buddha

We know his name and he mustn’t get away

We’re on the road and we’re gunning for the Buddha

It would take one shot – to blow him away…

Now’s the time to have some big ideas

Now’s the time to make some firm decisions

We saw the Buddha in a bar down south

Talking politics and nuclear fission

We see him and he’s all washed up -

Moving on into the body of a beetle

Getting ready for a long long crawl

He ain’t nothing – he ain’t nothing at all…

We’re on the road and we’re gunning for the Buddha

We know his name and he mustn’t get away

We’re on the road and we’re gunning for the Buddha

It would take one shot – to blow him away…

Death and Money make their point once more

In the shape of Philosophical assassins

Mark and Danny take the bus uptown

Deadly angels for reality and passion

Have the courage of the here and now

Don’t take nothing from these ½-baked buddhas

When you think you got it paid in full

You got nothing – you got nothing at all…

We’re on the road and we’re gunning for the Buddha

We know his name and he mustn’t get away

We’re on the road and we’re gunning for the Buddha

It would take one shot…

Oh… we’re gunning for the Buddha

We know his name and he mustn’t get away

We’re on the road and we’re gunning for the Buddha

Saying something, saying something unsafe

We’re on the road

Oh… we’re gunning for the Buddha

(Yeah, Yeah)

We’re on the road

You know we’re gunning for the Buddha

You see him blow right there

We’re on the road

We’re gunning, we’re gunning,

We’re gunning on the road

We’re gunning, we’re gunning

We’re gunning for the Buddha

Best.Blogroll.Evar.

I’ve got to agree with Jon here : even if I’m not on it, this b(l)ogroll from yet another Metafiltron, malevole, made me smile quietly to myself. Which, considering how grumpy I was earlier today, is the humour equivalent of setting off a neutron bomb in my underpants.

Also, do not miss the homepage, which is a marvel. Super extra double cool, with a light dusting of methamphetamines on top. ‘Cause they’re crunchy.

Just to be stubbornly repetitive, humourless and tiresome…

…I’m going to keep hammering on this. The world at large is beginning to notice the blogosphere. The marketing shills smell money in the air. The bright-toothed, fast-talking, lucre-fixated hordes are girding their well-toned loins and casting a hungry eye our way. It’s coming damn it : the signs are all around, and you should take opportunity to be very afraid.

Alternately, you could make like me : leer dementedly and cock a snook at the bastards.

Metaphor saves me from the fact that metaphor cannot save me

…Instead I sit here alone at 4 AM arranging words to describe what is indescribable or what is not worth describing. And his arms tangle with the arms of someone else, for no better reason than that they just do. The heart of this pain: there is no why. There is no reason. Things just happen this way, and we have to stand by, silently, and watch.

Some lovely writing from a fellow Mefiosi, Evanizer. Via yet another member of this growing Metafilter-centred new kids on the block gang of bloggers, this nascent B-List, this renaissance of sorts, Iconomy.

Croggling

Cory uses the phrase ‘mind-croggling’ to describe Ray Kurzweil’s writing. I’ve used the phrase repeatedly over the years. It appears all over the web. But it’s not Real English. Of course, that’s never stopped me before.

Will ‘mind-croggling’ eventually become a part of the language, or can it be argued that it already is?

mind-crog·gling (mndcrglng)

adj. Informal

Intellectually or emotionally overwhelming: “a mind-croggling bazaar of talking mattresses and improbability generators”.

The first time I recall ever seeing the phrase was in Douglas Adams’ Hitchhiker’s Guide to The Galaxy books. I suspect he just made it up, on the fly, as a natural descriptor for the next step beyond being boggled.

I remember with great pleasure sitting on the beach beside the cold cold lake one summer, out back of the house, in my hometown, reading and re-reading a copy of the Hitchhiker’s Guide, laughing out loud. One of the first long pieces of writing I ever did, back in my early teens, was in emulation of the gymnastic language and unbridled silliness of the Guide. I’ve gone back to those books every couple of years since, and they’re still dear to my heart.

I loved that Douglas Adams. He had a huge influence in molding the WonderChickonian sense of humour. I guess that he might have preferred more substantial legacies than these, but maybe they’ll do just fine.

War on Intelligence

Walters admits that the nearly $1 billion spent on anti-drug messages needs to be better used, and promises to refocus the campaign. Congress is expected soon to consider re-authorizing the $18 billion-per-year National Office of Drug Control Policy activities.”

Turns out the TV ads that these twisted, evil, moralistic little icepickers (to lift an epithet from Mojo Nixon) have been coming up with are actually encouraging kids to do drugs. That is sad and beautiful.

Sad only because the One Billion Dollars they spent on f–king advertisements telling people what they should and should not put into their very own personal bodies could actually have gone towards doing some good in the world. How many lives could 18 billion dollars save if it were spent on health care for the 40 million Americans who don’t have any, for example?

More Mojo :

“We’re gonna have a war on drugs?

a war on drugs…

We oughta have a war on war, suckers

We oughta have a war on this senseless condominium new car

shopping mall hell…”

Super Soaker!

burroughssupersoaker_lo.jpg

I just made this one for the hell of it. I’m having a few delightful cocktails, Mefi’s down, I’m ‘pilin, yadda yaddaladdayo… The original’s been my desktop for the last week or so, and Old Bull Lee is one of my icons.

Also, I’ve gotta think it’d be fun having a watergun fight with Old Bill. After he’d been into the dexedrine, he’d kick your ass. [hi-res (popup)]