Probably pretty ugly if using Internet
Explorer 9 or earlier.
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Our Amazon Prime package arrived, and we couldn't be any more pleased!
Actually, we probably could be, if it was the toaster we had ordered. But this is good, too.
Be Like the Daffodil
completed a poem about the garden in the front yard, One of the images was daffodils.
We always think of daffodils as being spectacular, but two things struck me about the image. First, daffodils spend eleven months out of twelve working out of sight. They only put on the show one month a year. Second, one daffodil is nice, but they only achieve crowd-drawing spectacle status when they are in large groups.
I'm sure there's message there for people who think if they aren't living out there 24/7, they cease to exist, and another about the myth of the solo artist and creative genius.
Not your Momma's world
There was a flurry of stories this week about the last Blockbuster store. Apple also announced they will be closing the Photo Print Shop. Frankly, both had fallen off the radar a long time ago, and were candidates for the
Remember When? columns that pop up on social media every now and again (like remember when someone delivered potato chips in cans to your front door?). (We never got those. I was so jealous of the kids who did, and the few times I had them they always seemed waaay tastier than the bagged chips we bought in the store.) So like Tamagotchi toys, black & white TV, and hoop skirts, there are more things your mother experienced that you never will, unless you become a re-enactor.
Dealing with Trolls
The Verge recently ran an article about dealing with trolls. There's history and not-quite satisfying solutions in
Although somewhat enlightening, it's not the first time that we have had to deal with trolls. It reminded me of the old Norwegian fairy tale Three Billy Goats Gruff.
Don’t feed the trolls, and other hideous lies.
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I'm sure we all remember permission slips from grammar school. Some were big things--slips saying it was OK to go on field trips, or some other major
out of school event (which sometimes were like out-of-body experiences). I recall there were also internal permission slips, like to go to the office or another classroom or the bathroom (like a formal hall pass).
Well, we now have permission slips for adults, or more accurately, permission blogs. The basic premise is it's OK to do, feel, or be something. Or not, as the case may be. Recently, I've been given permission to:
- be myself
- do nothing
- screw up
- not write
I'm still waiting for permission to breathe, sleep, and be rude to people who are rude to me. Not that I need permission (which is the way these articles seem to start), but still...
Way back in the day, Andy Warhol came up with the
fifteen minutes of fame concept –everyone will be famous for fifteen minutes. I could live with that but did get annoyed when people try to drag out their time to a half-hour or an hour with no justification. Brothers of Democratic Presidents come to mind.
Now, from the world of bloggery and social media, we now have the concept of
Cancelled, which provides a remedy for this problem. At first I wasn't too keen on the idea. Who sets themselves up as arbiters of what's important, of who should have a voice and who should not? But then I found out that
cancelling can be personal or a group or universal. So I can cancel someone, or everyone can cancel someone. There are probably rules, but mine just consider annoyance and stupidity. Larger cancels have more elaborate or vagarious rules, I'm sure, but I bet at bottom it still depends upon annoyance and/or stupidity.
Still, though, we have those who haven't been reading their email and did not get the message that they've been cancelled–nobody cares about their bloviations any more, if anyone actually ever did.
Now, I'm not trying to cancel these people's right to speak out, earn a living, or even be caustic in public. I just don't want to have to listen to it, especially when they're being stupid in areas they know little to nothing about. I'm tired of them consuming my bandwidth with nonsense and churning the kettle, so to speak.
I'm thinking particularly of:
- Ted Nugent
- Michele Bachmann
- Kathy Griffin
- Rick Santorum 1or any failed, self-styled Presidential contender)
- Charles Barkley
- John McEnroe
- Any Real Housewife
- Terrell Owens
- Alec Baldwin and his brothers
- LaVar Ball
The lack of links is intentional, and done as a public service.
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Niagara, Wayne, other border forts to be recommissioned to counter growing Canadian menace
Under urging from President Trump, the Department of Defense today announced that the Department of the Army would be recommissioning a number of forts along the Canadian border, including Fort Niagara, Fort Montgomery, Fort Ticonderoga and Fort Wayne.
They defended us before from the marauding Canucks, spokesman Nelson Eddy said.
If those hosers think they're just going to march in here and force their steel and aluminum on us at NAFTA-agreed prices, well, they've got another think coming. They burned Washington! It's payback time!
Eddy says it won't take much to bring the forts up to speed. Proposed improvements to the forts include a fresh coat of paint and additional parking. Eddy noted that adding discount malls to the forts was under discussion.
We know how popular these malls are now along the border. We'll use them to lure Canadian families into the country, and then it will be easy to separate the adults from the children. It's what happens now in food courts and arcade centers in malls. Nobody will notice.
Canadian retaliatory measures are unknown at this time, but one news outlet is reporting that William Shatner, Justin Bieber, Martin Short and Nickelback have been recalled to Ottawa for discussions.
We were hoping they would recall the entire Kardashian family, an American Department of State spokesman said.
But then we found out they were Americans, and so we're going to be forced to leave them at the Mexican border ourselves and hope somebody picks them up and takes them across.
Trading in the Canadian dollar was halted on the American exchanges, until someone pointed out that the Canadian dollar was worth 75% of the American dollar before the Defense Department announcement. Trading was then resumed. At the close of trading, the Canadian dollar remained unchanged.
One less Droste Effect
One of the great cognitional moments in my life was discovering that the Indian maiden on the Land O'Lakes butter box was holding a box of butter with an Indian maiden holding a box of butter with.... It was my first encounter with infinity, and the limits of human perceptual capabilities. In the imagination, though, the boxes go on and on to infinity.
Fortunately, I never thought to ask if the box I was looking at was itself being held. That's like thinking about the billions of microbes swimming around in your body. It's not mind-healthy to do that.
It turns out that self-holding-self infinity thing is called the Droste Effect.
For fans of the Droste Effect, we have some sad news. You will no longer be able to get a quick fix in the dairy aisle. Evil marketing/graphics people have redone the Land O'Lakes box. It now features a head shot of the Indian maiden. Very attractive. Just not right.
The good news is that, for the moment at least, tradition lives on at the website, where the original kneeling maiden is still part of the logo, and is still gracing packages of sliced cheese. Tradition is good, especially for iconic products. Trust me, they don't get more iconic than Land O'Lakes.
Disclaimer: my dad used to work for Land O'Lakes. I'm very proud of him.
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The local news channels have been having a field day (actually, week) with giant hogweed (AKA Heracleum mantegazzianum) invading the Commonwealth. And for those of you concerned about such things, yes that pun about a plant and fields was intentional. You're welcome.
The first report was that giant hogweed was an attractive plant, but a dangerous invasive plant. Touching the plant could cause major skin irritation and blisters; contact with the eye could cause blindness, and rubbing it all over your naked body could cause death. (There was a reason Springsteen did not write
Blinded by the Giant Hogweed. It didn't scan as well as 'light,' or maybe it hadn't invaded New Jersey at that point.) And worst of all, the reporters told us, it was already in the Commonwealth and heading directly toward us!
Well, OK, we found out on Day 2 it's only in Clarke County, or about as far away from us as it can be and still be in Virginia. But hogweed! Giant hogweed! Be scared! Be very scared! Later on Day 2, yes, it still burns and blinds and kills, and it's still only in Clarke County, be afraid, be afraid, and oh, did we mention it's only one plant? But it's giant!
Onto Day 3 reporting of the plant that blinded an entire Commonwealth, are you still afraid? It still burns, it still blinds, still kills and it's invasive! Invasive, I say! Someone planted that one plant (as an ornamental), but still, it's here, it invaded, be afraid, be afraid. Burning. Blindness. Death. Fear.
And reporters wonder why they're losing credibility.
They Said It
My characters don’t really care how many books I’ve sold.
Not nice, probably
I know it's awfully incorrect, but when I hear someone say
Kyrgyzstan, I think they're trying to clear their throat.
Decoding House Hunters
In this episode of Decoding House Hunters, we explain some new terminology on the show:
- Craftsman style: It has a porch.
- Mid-century modern: One story with no porch.
- Colonial: Two-stories.
- Move-in ready: I'm going to bitch and moan about the renovations that the previous owners did. Why didn't they put two sinks in the master bathroom?
- Curb appeal: Sorry, you're on your own on this one. But only one part of the couple cares about it.
- Forever home: See
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This Week in Writing
As a writer (yes, Mr. Snarky-pants over there, I am a writer. I might not be great, but I do write. This posting. Every week or so, five hundred words delivered to you at no charge), I run into some odd things and do some odd things to further my craft. As a reader, you get all the benefits with none of the pain, except that incurred in reading, and hey, you can always stop reading. I'm the writer. I can't stop. It's in the contract. Next contract, I'm going to have a lawyer look at it. Like I can ever afford one of those.
Where was I? Oh, yes, writing. This week. An interesting week.
Going to class.
A while back (defn:: so long ago, there's no date on the computer file), I got the idea that I should write a memoir. Yes, about me. No, I'm not expecting anybody to read it either (can somebody get Mr. Snarky-pants out of here?). Then I got the idea that I should take a class since I don't know anything about writing memoirs, and want to know what rules I'll be breaking when I do my memoir. Outside of writing conferences (two in twenty years) I don't think I've ever taken a writing course.
The first class was Tuesday. We will be bringing in pieces to workshop (yes,
to workshop is a verb. You really have to try to keep up). I had a draft of a couple of sections. It has not gotten off to a good start.
Now, when I say I had an idea (or in this case two), that does not mean that they were good ideas. If three of ten ideas pan out, it's been a good day (or week) These may not have been good ideas, insofar as I seem to be second-guessing them (defn: .saying uh-oh a lot). I'm not sure now what the idea was with writing a memoir, but it was probably word play, look back at old times, and maybe personal exploration. Dragging out another draft section of
Life every other week for public consumption/criticism is not really necessary to reach the goal. Or desired, come to think of it. Oh, well. Live and learn. I wish I could say,
hey, I can add that to the memoir! but there are already too many sections devoted to lessons (un)learned.
One good piece of fallout from the class–in preparing for the class, I went rummaging around in the closet for a three-ring binder. I found one, containing twenty-six short short stories that I had written more or less around the turn of the millennium. I had been looking for a couple of them for a reading in August. There was nothing–NOTHING!– on the hard drive. I figured I had probably offloaded them to claw back some space. Really offloaded over 50 singles spaced pages into wherever. So having found the hard copies, I spent part of Friday cleaning out drawers, looking for backup CDs. I finally found one with a lot of the stories on it. I just have to go through and see if I'm missing any of the stories in electronic versions. Who knows? Maybe I'll find a couple more stories I had forgotten writing and didn't print.
I also found a dozen poems I wrote in college. My only defense is I was an English major in the early seventies. Look, we all make mistakes. None of us were thinking straight then. You won't be hearing about those ever again.
When I first started hanging around writers, they would inevitably ask,
What do you write? The answer they're looking for is usually some sort of subgenre, like
urban fantasy or
Amish romance or
dystopian children's poetry. But I don't write in one genre. I write a lot of things, including this posting (is Mr. Smarty-pants still here? No? Good.) So I just ended up saying
words. It was an unsatisfying answer for all concerned, but got me out of trouble or long, elaborate answers, which works out to the same thing.
If you write, you read. This morning, I was reading submission requirements for a new magazine. I've been thinking about submitting something or other for publication, and AOM seems like a good place to start. They're new, and the list of things they accept is huge. Plus, I'm probably overqualified, at least for the old man part, and probably the only person in the history of the website to make that joke.
Unfortunately, irony and sarcasm are not categories.
That's where I bumped into two new genres. The first is called asemic writing, the second flarf. They're technically not new (one is described as a
movement of the early 21st Century), but are new to me. These guys would make Marcel Deschamps look like a straight arrow and a paragon of clarity and mainstreamosity. Or bring Devo into top-40 pop land. I always thought that readers were partially responsible for adding a certain sense and meaning to a story, adding their own unique perspective, but with asemic writing, everything in terms of sense-making is left to the reader. Senseless or just plain bad is the goal of flarf.
School of Flarf might make a pretty good title for a movie.
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No, not the broadway show (although the Tony Awards are this Sunday) kind of revival. Fashion trends, cultural trends. Stuff like that.
Specifically, I wonder if Big Red Frame Sally Jessy Raphael-style glasses will make a reappearance.
Also apropos, the May 20
Arts & Leisure section of the New York Times could have been subtitled the Time Machine. There were articles about disco musicals, how 90's songs speak to today,
Dystopia, Apocalypse, Culture War: 2018 or 1968, and
2001: A Space Odyssey travels back in time,
On a totally related unrelated note, it's the fiftieth anniversary of 1968. I am not ready to deal with that. Judging from the lack of noise about
50 years ago today, I think a lot of my contemporaries aren't either.
Teacher of the Year
The local school announced that Mrs. Jones is the
Teacher of the Year. So is this a good thing? Is teaching competitive? Do other teachers go to Mrs. Jones for tips and advice? Does Mrs. Jones get some sort of prize besides a designated parking space? What are the criteria? Does Mrs. Jones challenge students or is she easy and
fun? So many questions, so few answers.
Short answer for me: this is not a good idea. Recognize good teachers. All good teachers. Let them teach.
I have this written down. I have no idea who is responsible–maybe Tom Hart. At any rate I'm going to put it in quotations, 'cuz that seems like the right thing to do.
So many things go wrong, we should be suspicious when someone gets it right.
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I was sooooo looking forward to May 29 and being able to chide my sister for not posting to her blog page in over a year. But then, on Sunday, she added
I'm soooo disappointed. Not in the post–that's good, you'll like it, you should read it. It's that I get so few opportunities to chide these days.
I hope we don't have to wait another year to see more good stuff, though.
The world's most trusted residential spaces.
advertisement/headline from the NYT Style magazine.
Frankly, I didn't know that trust was a measure for hotels. Who takes that measurement? What are the criteria? Personally, I trust my own residence a lot, and those of my neighbors and relatives. The electricity and plumbing work. It keeps the rain out. Those are measures of trust. But for a hotel? The ad continues that the chain
stands for unparalleled metro locations, signature design, fair value, and attentive yet unobtrusive service. I'll give them that one. My neighbors are unobtrusive, but man, besides for Bobby, they totally lack that service component.
Say and Do
The current read is Seth Godin's The Icarus Deception. Basic Premise: We are all artists. Our society beats this out of us and makes us drones. We need to get back to artistry (all of us). Along the way we should do our art for us, measure what we do on our own terms, for a small audience, and don't listen to critics. He cites a number of successful artists who walked away because they weren't making art on their own terms any more.
I can generally buy that. However, the cover-flap biography gave me pause:
Seth Godin is the author of fourteen international bestsellers... and one of the most popular business bloggers in the world. Some measures die hard.
Funny? Sad? Worrisome?
First, the coincidence. I was at a reading on Sunday, and someone mentioned The Picture of Dorian Gray. Hadn't thought about it in years. Then it made the PBS 100 favorite books. (Aside: I wonder how many of these titles are
the film made the list, not
the book made the list.)
Someplace along the line I thought,
What if the person ages and the picture in the attic stays the same? It took me a couple of minutes see that there was a flaw in that plan.
It's OK. I can write nonfiction, too.
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What connects wine and pundits? Or pundits and normal consumer behavior?
Data Point 1: For years, computer pundits have been saying Apple prices are too high. People won't buy Apple products because they cost too much.
Funny, they never say
people won't buy BMWs or Mercedes or Jaguars because they cost too much. Or fancy handbags. Or meals in restaurants with tablecloths, and/or $15 avocado toast on the menu.
Recently, the noise from the flapping faces has reached maximum decibeliosity with the iPhoneX. This verdict is everywhere, except in Apple sales, where iPhoneX sales are a significant portion of the mobile phone market.
Data Point 2: I went to a wine tasting the other night. Afterwards, I was chatting with shop owner, and I mentioned that I had just read that wine sales were down two percent that year (yes, I did homework). She said yes, true, but the low end wines were being hurt. Sales of more expensive wine were actually rising.
Data Point 3: Recently, H&M, the Swedish
fast fashion retailer (read cheap), announced sales were down and they were having sales to clear out excess inventory. Seems people are buying better-made, more expensive clothing.
Data Point 4: Even in cell phones, sales are overall flat, but sales of cheap phones in China are down 22 percent year over year.
So to the pusillanimous pontificators of the pundit world, I say,
Come into the 21st Century, flapping faces! Look around! See what's happening in the world! Make what you're saying match up with something that resembles reality! Be relevant! Do your homework! After all, I did (see two percent and 22 percent, above).
Totally irrelevant aside: Using
Pusillanimous above made me think back to its most noted use. Who ever thought we might look back at Spiro Agnew as the golden age of political discourse? End aside.
5 13 18
Let's Google that.
Earlier this week, Google demonstrated a new product that purportedly could make
intelligent phone calls that are indistinguishable from those made by humans. Everyone was all up in arms about what it all means, if we will be able to believe anything we hear, etc. etc. The usual handwaving, in short. Two observations:
- As John Gruber noted, it's interesting that Google chose to do a video presentation, not a live demonstration. That might mean nothing, but it might be nothing, too (that is, this is how we picture it working if we ever get around to doing some coding and making a workable prototype someday).
- Also interesting that
natural human speech was
duplicated by adding stops and starts, and a slight stammer. In short, by making mistakes.
I still think we're wasting too much time on artificial intelligence and should do more to fix natural stupidity.
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A Story Lesson
The breakroom has a TV. During lunch a couple of days ago it was turned to one of those
chattering chipmunk channels They were interviewing one of the Parkland students, snd asked
What do you want (from the Federal Government)? She replied,
To feel safe in school.
This is a wholly commendable goal. Perhaps we can make our schools safer for learning and students. Perhaps if we can make our schools safer, it can flow into the rest of our society.
It's at best a dream. We have never had safe schools. Exhibit A and B? Greg Marlowe and Michael Blum. They were the official grade bullies in grammar school. (Each grade had its own bullies.) Every day, most of us, I'm sure, went to school in dread of being noticed by Greg or Michael. I know I did.
I'm sure that survivors go to school each day with a heightened level of fear, and that this may carry over to other schools. But I'm equally sure that millions of students fear the possibility of a random shooter much less than they fear their Gregs and Michaels.
Solve bullies, solve Greg and Michael, and schools will be much safer and happier places for all of us. If you fix the Gregs and Michaels in grammar school, you probably go a long way toward fixing workplace harassment.
We''ll be bucking hundreds of years of tradition, but hey, it's worth the attempt.
Most Americans Think Big Tech Should Be Regulated Like Big Banks
This was in the same news cycle as reports of Wells Fargo being fined $1 billion. Big tech probably would like that kind of wriggle room in regulation of their industry.
Making the story fit the
way it is story we made up.
A story in the Washington Post was headlined
Amazon-Whole Foods just claimed its first victims.
An aside: remember it's in the best interests of the Washington Post to keep the Amazon name in the news, as they share an owner (Jeff Bezos). End aside.
It's a nice story. Too bad it's not all true. In fact, I would think that a 450-store grocery chain being bought by a web-based company that struggles to turn a profit is a relatively minor factor in stores, even grocery stores, closing.
Selling groceries is traditionally a hard business. It has been since my father was a weekend butcher at a small family-owned grocery when I was a kid. It's been hard for hundreds, thousands of stores and chains that have gone under. It wasn't AmaWhoF that did them in. It was the same thing that is still doing in stores across the retail spectrum. Things like:
- over/too rapid expansion
- losing touch with customers
- being bought by private venture firms who pass the debt off to the stores they just bought, and keep the real estate, forcing the stores to pay them rent.
I'm sure there are a lot that I'm missing, but if you dig a little more, often there's a whole host of problems that have nothing to do with AmaWhoF,
Another aside: Since I wrote this, Hasbro. announced its quarterly earnings. They missed guidance and expectations. Their reason? Not Amazon, not AmaWhoF, but the Toys 'R Us' bankruptcy. End aside.