Okay, so I decided to take a day off from actually writing a blog post to compile a few videos I found on the Internet. Today's topic: CHICKENS. Why? Well, why not?
1) Mike The Headless Chicken:
Okay, this is kinda horrible, but you can't say it's not interesting...
From Wikipedia.org:
"In Fruita, Colorado, on September 10, 1945, farmer Lloyd Olsen was sent out to kill a chicken for dinner. His mother-in-law loved to eat the neck, so Mr. Olsen tried to chop off as little of the neck as possible. With a swing of his axe, off came the head. The chicken – now known as "Mike The Headless Chicken" – started to run around as chickens do, but never stopped.
Mike The Headless Chicken became famous and began doing tours. Mr. Olsen charged 25¢.
Mike was fed a mixture of water and milk with an eyedropper, and occasionally he was fed corn.
Mike finally died in 1947, after living for 18 months. He started choking in the middle of the night, and since the Olsens left the syringes they used to clear his esophagus at the sideshow, they could not save him."
(Source: thelongestlistofthelongeststuffatthelongestdomainnameatlonglast.com)
2) The Great Gonzo And His Chickens Perform "The Blue Danube Waltz":
Now, if this doesn't get into your head for the next few hours, you may have short-term memory loss! And if you don't at least smile once or twice, you might want to get your sense of humor checked the next time you're at the doctor's.
(Source: youtube.com)
3) "Flickin' Chicken" Rubber Chicken-Tossing Game:
I actually had to write a product description for this game a while back, since it's something our company sells online. Believe it or not, it's a real game. And believe it or not, I would never ever play it. (Unless it was given to me as a gift, in which case it would be an insult to refuse.)
(Source: youtube.com)
4) Gene Burnett -- "The Free Range Chicken Song"
So...this may be even weirder and more disturbing than "Mike The Headless Chicken". I would say "Enjoy!", but I don't really think you will. So I'll just say: Here it is...
(Source: youtube.com)
Friday, January 6, 2012
Thursday, January 5, 2012
If I Fell Off A Cliff
Because I like to keep my (faithful? occasional? nonexistent?) readers on their toes, today I offer an original poem for your perusal...written five minutes ago.
"If I Fell Off A Cliff"
What would you do
If I fell off a cliff?
Would you offer a hand?
Would you give me a lift?
Would you call 911
Tell them something's amiss
With this guy that you know
Slouching in an abyss?
Would you tell me, "Don't worry!
It could be so much worse.
You could currently be
In the back of a hearse.
"You could be in a jail cell
In some Third World nation
Wasting away in
Appalling starvation!"
What would you do
Should you one day discover
Me, mangled and bleeding –
Would you ever recover?
Or would you pass by
And pretend not to notice?
Or further conceal me
With orchids and lotus?
Another good question
Might be: What would I do
If I saw you there, would I
Help you or hide you?
Like a good neighbor
Would I be right there?
Or walk away quickly
And pretend I don't care?
The latter response
Is apparent insanity
Yet sadly is typical
Of modern humanity...
"If I Fell Off A Cliff"
What would you do
If I fell off a cliff?
Would you offer a hand?
Would you give me a lift?
Would you call 911
Tell them something's amiss
With this guy that you know
Slouching in an abyss?
Would you tell me, "Don't worry!
It could be so much worse.
You could currently be
In the back of a hearse.
"You could be in a jail cell
In some Third World nation
Wasting away in
Appalling starvation!"
What would you do
Should you one day discover
Me, mangled and bleeding –
Would you ever recover?
Or would you pass by
And pretend not to notice?
Or further conceal me
With orchids and lotus?
Another good question
Might be: What would I do
If I saw you there, would I
Help you or hide you?
Like a good neighbor
Would I be right there?
Or walk away quickly
And pretend I don't care?
The latter response
Is apparent insanity
Yet sadly is typical
Of modern humanity...
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
Mood Swings
I have never bought into the idea that one gender is moodier than the other. The general "theory" is that women tend to be more temperamental than men, and more prone to wild mood swings. I think that's garbage. I think it depends on each individual's circumstances, history, nature, etc.
Why do I even bring this up? Because I am a relentlessly moody somebody. Especially here lately. I can go from deliriously happy to positively gloomy (somewhat of an oxymoron, I know) at the drop of a hat.
For most of yesterday, I was fine. I was actually having a good day. At my desk, in my office, with the door closed, I was playing some new music I'd bought with Christmas money. I had my earbuds in – which were also new, and worked really well (maybe too well).
Most of the songs on the CD's were new to me, but there were a few songs I've heard on the radio and knew reasonably well, so I started singing along. Unbeknownst to me, I was singing kinda loud. Loud enough that the lady in the office next to mine – separated by a couple of layers of drywall – sent me a "friendly" e-mail asking me to please stop singing. In fact, the terse missive read exactly as follows, and I quote: "Singing – Please Stop."
Now, this is not an unreasonable request. I was in a place of business, presumably (and in actuality) doing work that I was paid to do. I was not being paid to sing, nor did she, or anyone else, ask me to sing for them at that particular time.
But, for some reason, I took it personally. And my generally cheerful mood quickly took a nosedive. To the point where I actually typed up a draft of an e-mail to my coworker, giving her permission to "thrust a pair of scissors through my throat" and/or "staple my feet to the floor" the next time I did anything to bother her, like singing or tapping my feet (for which I have also been previously "reprimanded" by said coworker).
Fortunately, before I hit "Send", I was able to talk myself out of it, realizing that such a self-deprecating response would do nothing to enhance my interpersonal office acquaintance with my coworker. Not to mention the fact that it was actually a rather stupid note to begin with (and yet I'm telling the Internet about it – go figure!).
The rest of the day, I sulked to myself, mired in melancholy. This has continued through to today. I'm once again listening to my music, not singing aloud, but I can't find much joy in it.
I know what you're probably thinking: "Get a grip, man! You're being too sensitive!" Or, "If you can't take the heat, then get out of the office!" Or at the very least, "I know this doctor who might be able to help you..."
You're probably right in all three cases. I don't know how to not respond to circumstances other than the way I respond. It's not healthy, I'm sure. But it's who I am.
I read an article this morning about something called "Irritable Men Syndrome"* or "Irritable Male Syndrome" (IMS, either way), a term which is used to describe mood swings in men. Behaviors characteristic of men with IMS include (with my personal reflections in parentheses):
* Angry (In Short Bursts, Yes – Especially In Traffic)
* Sarcastic (Ya Think?)
* Tense (Occasionally)
* Argumentative (At Times)
* Frustrated (Frequently)
* Demanding (Rarely)
* Sad (Intermittently)
* Impatient (Constantly – Especially In Traffic)
* Anxious (Sometimes)
* Hostile (In Traffic, Definitely)
* Unloving (Don't Think So...I Hope Not!)
* Withdrawn (Very Frequently)
* Defensive (Nearly Always)
* Dissatisfied (Not Too Often)
Yep, here I go Self-Diagnosing again. But it sounds like I may have hit the nail on the head. Apparently, IMS is some kind of a hormonal imbalance, and can be treated. Maybe I should look into that...
Until then, I'll try to salvage this day as best I can. And not sing aloud.
(Insert plastered-on grin here.)
*(Source: www.bodylogicmd.com)
Why do I even bring this up? Because I am a relentlessly moody somebody. Especially here lately. I can go from deliriously happy to positively gloomy (somewhat of an oxymoron, I know) at the drop of a hat.
For most of yesterday, I was fine. I was actually having a good day. At my desk, in my office, with the door closed, I was playing some new music I'd bought with Christmas money. I had my earbuds in – which were also new, and worked really well (maybe too well).
Most of the songs on the CD's were new to me, but there were a few songs I've heard on the radio and knew reasonably well, so I started singing along. Unbeknownst to me, I was singing kinda loud. Loud enough that the lady in the office next to mine – separated by a couple of layers of drywall – sent me a "friendly" e-mail asking me to please stop singing. In fact, the terse missive read exactly as follows, and I quote: "Singing – Please Stop."
Now, this is not an unreasonable request. I was in a place of business, presumably (and in actuality) doing work that I was paid to do. I was not being paid to sing, nor did she, or anyone else, ask me to sing for them at that particular time.
But, for some reason, I took it personally. And my generally cheerful mood quickly took a nosedive. To the point where I actually typed up a draft of an e-mail to my coworker, giving her permission to "thrust a pair of scissors through my throat" and/or "staple my feet to the floor" the next time I did anything to bother her, like singing or tapping my feet (for which I have also been previously "reprimanded" by said coworker).
Fortunately, before I hit "Send", I was able to talk myself out of it, realizing that such a self-deprecating response would do nothing to enhance my interpersonal office acquaintance with my coworker. Not to mention the fact that it was actually a rather stupid note to begin with (and yet I'm telling the Internet about it – go figure!).
The rest of the day, I sulked to myself, mired in melancholy. This has continued through to today. I'm once again listening to my music, not singing aloud, but I can't find much joy in it.
I know what you're probably thinking: "Get a grip, man! You're being too sensitive!" Or, "If you can't take the heat, then get out of the office!" Or at the very least, "I know this doctor who might be able to help you..."
You're probably right in all three cases. I don't know how to not respond to circumstances other than the way I respond. It's not healthy, I'm sure. But it's who I am.
I read an article this morning about something called "Irritable Men Syndrome"* or "Irritable Male Syndrome" (IMS, either way), a term which is used to describe mood swings in men. Behaviors characteristic of men with IMS include (with my personal reflections in parentheses):
* Angry (In Short Bursts, Yes – Especially In Traffic)
* Sarcastic (Ya Think?)
* Tense (Occasionally)
* Argumentative (At Times)
* Frustrated (Frequently)
* Demanding (Rarely)
* Sad (Intermittently)
* Impatient (Constantly – Especially In Traffic)
* Anxious (Sometimes)
* Hostile (In Traffic, Definitely)
* Unloving (Don't Think So...I Hope Not!)
* Withdrawn (Very Frequently)
* Defensive (Nearly Always)
* Dissatisfied (Not Too Often)
Yep, here I go Self-Diagnosing again. But it sounds like I may have hit the nail on the head. Apparently, IMS is some kind of a hormonal imbalance, and can be treated. Maybe I should look into that...
Until then, I'll try to salvage this day as best I can. And not sing aloud.
(Insert plastered-on grin here.)
*(Source: www.bodylogicmd.com)
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
I Don't Know Your Kid's Name
Maybe it's because I'm not yet a father. Maybe I'm subconsciously lamenting the fact that I'm not yet a father, and a part of me simply doesn't care (as harsh as that sounds). But I am terrible at remembering the names of other people's kids.
Granted, I don't have much reason to know most of these kids' names (unless they have been or currently desire to be in one of the dramas at church), but it is rather embarrassing when I repeatedly have to ask one of my closest friends in the world – who has two young boys – "Now which one is he again?"
Don't get me wrong. I like kids a lot. I'd love to have some of my own, but – for reasons I won't go into in detail right now – it hasn't been possible as yet.
However, I still feel as though I should be more aware, or perhaps care more about the progeny of my acquaintances, friends, and family.
Yes, I said family. I have several first cousins to whom I was quite close growing up, and now they are married with a gaggle of kids each, and I couldn't for the life of me tell you any two of their kids' names in total.
Speaking of the folks with multiple kids... God bless you, I don't know how you do it, but you seem to manage parenthood very well indeed. I have a hard time trying to feed and clean up after three cats – and other than food, water, and litter boxes, they are pretty much self-sufficient.
But while we're on the subject, y'all with the bigger families are the hardest of all for moniker-challenged dopes like me. I can't remember one of your kids' names, much less all of them.
Especially – and this is not meant to offend anyone out there who does this – when most, if not all of their names, start with the same letter. My brain doesn't do well with that. It sees "Tall One," "Not As Tall One", "Short One", and "The One In The Stroller".
Could you maybe color-code your young'uns and give me a cheat sheet?
I can't count how many times, when recruiting for the Easter or fall dramas at church, I have had to call up our Music Minister or Youth Pastor and ask, "Do you know this kid who signed up? Who's their mama? What do they look like? Should I know them from somewhere?"
I'm not kidding. I'm horrible at this.
Now my wife on the other hand, she's a teacher. She teaches Science to the entire 7th grade at her school. That's six different sets of kids each day, about 130 or so students in all. And she remembers all of them by face AND by name. And let me tell you – and any teachers out there reading this can testify that it's true – some people give their kids the craziest, most unpronounceable names imaginable. And yet she remembers them all.
Maybe teachers are a different animal altogether – they have to be, to be able to deal with all they have to on a daily basis. But this guy – who gets paid to write words in some semblance of order – can't seem to grasp names quite so well.
So, if I see you at a family get-together, and refer to your kids as "Little Guy" or "Pretty Girl", don't be offended. If I see you at church and speak to you without speaking to your kids, it's not because I don't like them. I just don't know who they are. Not by name, at least. Forgive me...
Granted, I don't have much reason to know most of these kids' names (unless they have been or currently desire to be in one of the dramas at church), but it is rather embarrassing when I repeatedly have to ask one of my closest friends in the world – who has two young boys – "Now which one is he again?"
Don't get me wrong. I like kids a lot. I'd love to have some of my own, but – for reasons I won't go into in detail right now – it hasn't been possible as yet.
However, I still feel as though I should be more aware, or perhaps care more about the progeny of my acquaintances, friends, and family.
Yes, I said family. I have several first cousins to whom I was quite close growing up, and now they are married with a gaggle of kids each, and I couldn't for the life of me tell you any two of their kids' names in total.
Speaking of the folks with multiple kids... God bless you, I don't know how you do it, but you seem to manage parenthood very well indeed. I have a hard time trying to feed and clean up after three cats – and other than food, water, and litter boxes, they are pretty much self-sufficient.
But while we're on the subject, y'all with the bigger families are the hardest of all for moniker-challenged dopes like me. I can't remember one of your kids' names, much less all of them.
Especially – and this is not meant to offend anyone out there who does this – when most, if not all of their names, start with the same letter. My brain doesn't do well with that. It sees "Tall One," "Not As Tall One", "Short One", and "The One In The Stroller".
Could you maybe color-code your young'uns and give me a cheat sheet?
I can't count how many times, when recruiting for the Easter or fall dramas at church, I have had to call up our Music Minister or Youth Pastor and ask, "Do you know this kid who signed up? Who's their mama? What do they look like? Should I know them from somewhere?"
I'm not kidding. I'm horrible at this.
Now my wife on the other hand, she's a teacher. She teaches Science to the entire 7th grade at her school. That's six different sets of kids each day, about 130 or so students in all. And she remembers all of them by face AND by name. And let me tell you – and any teachers out there reading this can testify that it's true – some people give their kids the craziest, most unpronounceable names imaginable. And yet she remembers them all.
Maybe teachers are a different animal altogether – they have to be, to be able to deal with all they have to on a daily basis. But this guy – who gets paid to write words in some semblance of order – can't seem to grasp names quite so well.
So, if I see you at a family get-together, and refer to your kids as "Little Guy" or "Pretty Girl", don't be offended. If I see you at church and speak to you without speaking to your kids, it's not because I don't like them. I just don't know who they are. Not by name, at least. Forgive me...
Monday, January 2, 2012
Self-Diagnosing
Do you ever self-diagnose your problems? I do, often.
For one thing, there's a wealth of information out there with which to educate myself about any particular ailment, or whatever else may be bothering me.
For another thing, doctors' visits are expensive, especially when you (like I do) have to meet a fairly high deductible out of pocket before your insurance will start to pitch in and help any at all.
So I self-diagnose.
Right now, I'm suffering from costochondritis...I think. It could be simply a pulled or strained muscle. Either way, I have a good deal of pain at my right ribcage that intensifies with every deep breath I take. It wakes me up at night. Last night only once, but the night before it was three times.
Interestingly enough, costochondritis often presents itself in many of the same ways as a heart attack, and should therefore be taken quite seriously. So I hit the internet and "solved" my problem.
This condition, its cause unknown and its treatment merely pain management, often affects women more often than men, and generally causes discomfort in the left side more often than the right. Leave it to me to be the exception. But it's the diagnosis that fits the best, if you take WebMD.com and the MayoCliniic.com sites with more than a grain of salt (and I do).
So, I take my NSAIDS and rest while waiting for this inflammation of the tissue connecting the ribcage to the sternum to subside.
Call it foolish if you will. Call it being a cheapskate. It doesn't matter to me either way. I'm not dying, just hurting. And I'm a heckuva lot better off financially for not going in to get who-knows-how-many tests done, only to find out what I think I already know (ruling out everything else first is how costochondritis is most often ultimately diagnosed).
There may be a touch of the hypochondriac in my nature, as I am often suspicious that I may have such-and-such an ailment at times. Like obsessive compulsive disorder, antisocial personality tendencies, and a "funny neck" (this is not the proper medical term, but there really isn't a word to describe a neck that can't ever quite fully relax in any position).
But it is what it is, and so am I. Lord help me!
For one thing, there's a wealth of information out there with which to educate myself about any particular ailment, or whatever else may be bothering me.
For another thing, doctors' visits are expensive, especially when you (like I do) have to meet a fairly high deductible out of pocket before your insurance will start to pitch in and help any at all.
So I self-diagnose.
Right now, I'm suffering from costochondritis...I think. It could be simply a pulled or strained muscle. Either way, I have a good deal of pain at my right ribcage that intensifies with every deep breath I take. It wakes me up at night. Last night only once, but the night before it was three times.
Interestingly enough, costochondritis often presents itself in many of the same ways as a heart attack, and should therefore be taken quite seriously. So I hit the internet and "solved" my problem.
This condition, its cause unknown and its treatment merely pain management, often affects women more often than men, and generally causes discomfort in the left side more often than the right. Leave it to me to be the exception. But it's the diagnosis that fits the best, if you take WebMD.com and the MayoCliniic.com sites with more than a grain of salt (and I do).
So, I take my NSAIDS and rest while waiting for this inflammation of the tissue connecting the ribcage to the sternum to subside.
Call it foolish if you will. Call it being a cheapskate. It doesn't matter to me either way. I'm not dying, just hurting. And I'm a heckuva lot better off financially for not going in to get who-knows-how-many tests done, only to find out what I think I already know (ruling out everything else first is how costochondritis is most often ultimately diagnosed).
There may be a touch of the hypochondriac in my nature, as I am often suspicious that I may have such-and-such an ailment at times. Like obsessive compulsive disorder, antisocial personality tendencies, and a "funny neck" (this is not the proper medical term, but there really isn't a word to describe a neck that can't ever quite fully relax in any position).
But it is what it is, and so am I. Lord help me!
Sunday, January 1, 2012
A Post A Day For A Whole Year???
Well, that's the goal. One goal among many others. Many insignificant, a few more substantial.
Call it some kind of wonky public diary.
Swim in my stream of consciousness if you dare.
I can't promise every day will be golden, but I'll try to make each one interesting. (Key words: I'll try.)
So, if you don't think I can do it, check back each day to see if I do.
If you get anything out of it, great.
If not, and no one ever reads it, at the very least it's a good writing exercise for me.
Either way, I'm gonna give it my best shot. Here goes nothing...
Call it some kind of wonky public diary.
Swim in my stream of consciousness if you dare.
I can't promise every day will be golden, but I'll try to make each one interesting. (Key words: I'll try.)
So, if you don't think I can do it, check back each day to see if I do.
If you get anything out of it, great.
If not, and no one ever reads it, at the very least it's a good writing exercise for me.
Either way, I'm gonna give it my best shot. Here goes nothing...
Friday, December 2, 2011
Holly Jolly Melancholy
It's the most wonderful time of the year. Or so the song says. But I'm not feeling it.
Matter of fact, I'm feeling quite the opposite. Call it the Christmas blues, or holly jolly melancholy, or whatever you choose. I'm just not into the holiday spirit this year – at least not yet.
I don't know why, but I can't even seem to crack a smile. It just seems that nothing's all that funny. Or mirthful. Or amusing even. I've lost whatever degree of quirky charm I once possessed (if ever there was any).
Instead, I just feel grumpy. I spend my time thinking not about what I'm going to get so-and-so for Christmas, but when it's all going to be over and done with.
I've never been like this before.
I usually love Christmas – it's by far one of my favorite holidays. Besides the fact that the reason for the season is only equaled by the reason for the Easter season, I can't find a whole lot to be joyful about. And that makes me sad. Which makes me sink even deeper into the funk I'm already in.
We're planning on decorating the house this weekend, getting a tree, trimming it, setting out lights and other odds and ends, and altogether making merry. I hope that helps.
Because playing my favorite Christmas songs, new and old, hasn't worked so far. Sure, I sing along to "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas" and "Silent Night" and all the old standards, but I do it grudgingly, with furrowed brow and pouty lips.
This is so out of character for me.
I want to enjoy the season, and all that comes with it, but I'm having a hard time even putting forth the effort to try.
Maybe this is just some wonky phase I'm passing through. Maybe I'll wake up tomorrow with the words to "We Three Kings" on my lips and sing it like I mean it. Maybe not.
But until I break out of this mirthless malaise, this languorous lethargy, this yuletide yuckiness, it may be best to steer clear of me. I might be contagious...
(The preceding paragraph was brought to you by Thesaurus.com, your one-stop shop for free synonyms.)
Matter of fact, I'm feeling quite the opposite. Call it the Christmas blues, or holly jolly melancholy, or whatever you choose. I'm just not into the holiday spirit this year – at least not yet.
I don't know why, but I can't even seem to crack a smile. It just seems that nothing's all that funny. Or mirthful. Or amusing even. I've lost whatever degree of quirky charm I once possessed (if ever there was any).
Instead, I just feel grumpy. I spend my time thinking not about what I'm going to get so-and-so for Christmas, but when it's all going to be over and done with.
I've never been like this before.
I usually love Christmas – it's by far one of my favorite holidays. Besides the fact that the reason for the season is only equaled by the reason for the Easter season, I can't find a whole lot to be joyful about. And that makes me sad. Which makes me sink even deeper into the funk I'm already in.
We're planning on decorating the house this weekend, getting a tree, trimming it, setting out lights and other odds and ends, and altogether making merry. I hope that helps.
Because playing my favorite Christmas songs, new and old, hasn't worked so far. Sure, I sing along to "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas" and "Silent Night" and all the old standards, but I do it grudgingly, with furrowed brow and pouty lips.
This is so out of character for me.
I want to enjoy the season, and all that comes with it, but I'm having a hard time even putting forth the effort to try.
Maybe this is just some wonky phase I'm passing through. Maybe I'll wake up tomorrow with the words to "We Three Kings" on my lips and sing it like I mean it. Maybe not.
But until I break out of this mirthless malaise, this languorous lethargy, this yuletide yuckiness, it may be best to steer clear of me. I might be contagious...
(The preceding paragraph was brought to you by Thesaurus.com, your one-stop shop for free synonyms.)
Monday, October 31, 2011
10 Things I Learned From "Random Article"
God bless the Internet! There's a wealth of useful – as well as useless – information literally at your fingertips. While the useful information is why we all love to use the Internet, it's the useless stuff that you'd only ever come across online, much less learn about, that makes surfing the web the über-awesome pastime that it is.
Case in point: I decided that it would be interesting to click the "Random Article" tab on Wikipedia.org a number of times, just to see what weird and wonderful new knowledge I could acquire. So what if I may never be able to use any of this information in my daily life (other than sharing it with you here, that is). So what if the veracity of any and all articles on Wikipedia is questionable, or irrefutable, depending on whom you ask (all information on the site is user-generated). So what if I just wasted a half hour of my life I'll never get back. At least I had fun. And I learned a few things. And now, so will you...
1) The U.S.S. Pansy was a steamer acquired by the Union Navy from the Union Army during the American Civil War. The U.S.S. Pansy served the Navy as a tugboat and as a dispatch boat, and operated primarily out of Cairo, Illinois, and Vicksburg, Mississippi, under the command of Acting Ensign William Harris. Pansy served in, and supported, several blockades of the Confederate States of America, including the Union Army's Western Flotilla and the Union Navy's Mississippi Mortar Brigade.
What Have We Learned?
That even during the time of the Civil War, people came up with ridiculous names for their boats. What self-respecting sailor would ever own up to the fact that he served on the U.S.S. Pansy? I mean, really!
2) The Nicaraguan Constitutional Assembly Election of 1972 was held on February 6th that year. The Liberal Nationalist Party received 534,171 votes (75.33%) and the Conservative Party received 174,897 votes (24.67%). There were 970,792 registered voters in Nicaragua that year.
What Have We Learned?
That 261,724 Nicaraguan citizens were too lazy, too politically indifferent, or too busy listening to their Rolling Stones records to even bother with voting that year.
3) "Devil And The Deep" is a Paramount Pictures film released in 1932 starring Tallulah Bankhead, Gary Cooper, Charles Laughton, and Cary Grant. Laughton plays a naval commander named Charles Sturm whose jealousy makes life miserable for his wife, Diana (Bankhead). His suspicions fall over his own subordinate, Lieutenant Jaeckel (Grant). Although Storm's suspicions had no basis in reality, soon his obsessive behavior drives Diana into the arms of yet another officer, Lieutenant Sempter (Cooper). Learning of their affair, Sturm plots a terrible revenge.
What Have We Learned?
That unwarranted jealousy could lead to warranted jealousy which could lead to surreptitious plotting which could lead to initially-innocent-but-later-guilty people getting killed. Also, that the screenwriters for this film had an affinity for oddball character names. Along with Sturm, Jaeckel, and Sempter, other characters include Mrs. Planet, Mrs. Crimp, and Lt. Toll.
4) Waverveen is a small village in the Dutch province of Utrecht. It is located in the municipality of De Ronde Venen, 3 km west of Vinkeveen. Waverveen was a separate municipality until 1841, when it was merged with Vinkeveen to form the municipality of Vinkeveen en Waverveen. At last count, the population was 794 people.
What Have We Learned?
Dutch words and names look and sound weird.
5) Konstantin Ushkov (born August 2, 1977) is a retired butterfly swimmer from Russia, who won the silver medal at the 1996 Summer Olympics in freestyle relay. He also competed for Kyrgyzstan at the 2000 Summer Olympics.
What Have We Learned?
Some people are lucky enough to be able to retire by age 34.
6) The Free Presbyterian Church of Scotland was formed in 1893 and claims to be the spiritual descendant of the Scottish Reformation. It is sometimes colloquially known as the Wee Wee Frees (not to be confused with the "Wee Frees", which is the colloquial name for another offshoot of the Church of Scotland, the Free Church of Scotland).
What Have We Learned?
"Wee Wee Frees"??? #smh
7) Ecuadorian Sign Language (ESL) is the deaf sign language of Ecuador. ESL is a language isolate (a "prototype" sign language), though one developed through stimulus diffusion from an existing sign language, likely French Sign Language.
What Have We Learned?
Actually, not a darned thing. Seeing as I don't know what a "language isolate" is (do you?) or "stimulus diffusion" (how about that one?), I actually feel dumber now than I did before reading this.
8) Litoria moorei (common name: motorbike frog) is a species of frog that's well-known in Southwest Australia for its signature call which sounds like a motorbike changing up through gears. The Litoria moorei is a ground-dwelling tree frog which is able to camouflage itself well, ranging in color from dark brown, through to green and gold. Its underside is noticeably lighter, and usually ranges from very pale green to light brown.
What Have We Learned?
That "ground-dwelling tree frog" seems to be a misnomer. Why not just call them ground frogs, or simply frogs? Or, in the case of this motorin' amphibian, how about "Harley Davidson"?
9) A stemple is a form of wooden step used in mining, caving, and mountaineering, usually a wooden bar set between notches in rock walls for climbing purposes, often one of a series forming a ladder. If not well maintained, stemples can rot and should not always be trusted. The origin of the word is in the German "Stempel", meaning a stamp or prop.
What Have We Learned?
That stemples and Wikipedia have something in common – they should not always be trusted.
10) Guiseppe Gonzaga (March 20, 1690 - August 16, 1746) was the last Duke of Guastalla (now a part of Italy). The second son of Vincenzo Gonazaga, Duke of Guastalla and Maria Vittoria Gonzaga, Giuseppe was mentally handicapped. When his elder brother Duke Antonio Ferrante died in an accident in 1729, Guiseppe was the only remaining male member of the family, so he became Duke. Giuseppe would probably have never married, but when he became Duke, a marriage was arranged in 1731 with the 16-year-old Eleonore von Holstein (1715 – 1760), daughter of Duke Leopold of Schleswig-Holstein-Sonderburg-Wiesenburg. The marriage remained childless.
What Have We Learned?
That a mentally handicapped man was made a Duke in the early 1700s because of his brother's accidental death – a title which he might never have attained otherwise, due to his handicap. No smart-alecky comments here – that's just straight-up interesting. And thought-provoking.
Now, why not take your own jaunt through the awesomeness that is "Random Article"? Happy Learning!
Case in point: I decided that it would be interesting to click the "Random Article" tab on Wikipedia.org a number of times, just to see what weird and wonderful new knowledge I could acquire. So what if I may never be able to use any of this information in my daily life (other than sharing it with you here, that is). So what if the veracity of any and all articles on Wikipedia is questionable, or irrefutable, depending on whom you ask (all information on the site is user-generated). So what if I just wasted a half hour of my life I'll never get back. At least I had fun. And I learned a few things. And now, so will you...
1) The U.S.S. Pansy was a steamer acquired by the Union Navy from the Union Army during the American Civil War. The U.S.S. Pansy served the Navy as a tugboat and as a dispatch boat, and operated primarily out of Cairo, Illinois, and Vicksburg, Mississippi, under the command of Acting Ensign William Harris. Pansy served in, and supported, several blockades of the Confederate States of America, including the Union Army's Western Flotilla and the Union Navy's Mississippi Mortar Brigade.
What Have We Learned?
That even during the time of the Civil War, people came up with ridiculous names for their boats. What self-respecting sailor would ever own up to the fact that he served on the U.S.S. Pansy? I mean, really!
2) The Nicaraguan Constitutional Assembly Election of 1972 was held on February 6th that year. The Liberal Nationalist Party received 534,171 votes (75.33%) and the Conservative Party received 174,897 votes (24.67%). There were 970,792 registered voters in Nicaragua that year.
What Have We Learned?
That 261,724 Nicaraguan citizens were too lazy, too politically indifferent, or too busy listening to their Rolling Stones records to even bother with voting that year.
3) "Devil And The Deep" is a Paramount Pictures film released in 1932 starring Tallulah Bankhead, Gary Cooper, Charles Laughton, and Cary Grant. Laughton plays a naval commander named Charles Sturm whose jealousy makes life miserable for his wife, Diana (Bankhead). His suspicions fall over his own subordinate, Lieutenant Jaeckel (Grant). Although Storm's suspicions had no basis in reality, soon his obsessive behavior drives Diana into the arms of yet another officer, Lieutenant Sempter (Cooper). Learning of their affair, Sturm plots a terrible revenge.
What Have We Learned?
That unwarranted jealousy could lead to warranted jealousy which could lead to surreptitious plotting which could lead to initially-innocent-but-later-guilty people getting killed. Also, that the screenwriters for this film had an affinity for oddball character names. Along with Sturm, Jaeckel, and Sempter, other characters include Mrs. Planet, Mrs. Crimp, and Lt. Toll.
4) Waverveen is a small village in the Dutch province of Utrecht. It is located in the municipality of De Ronde Venen, 3 km west of Vinkeveen. Waverveen was a separate municipality until 1841, when it was merged with Vinkeveen to form the municipality of Vinkeveen en Waverveen. At last count, the population was 794 people.
What Have We Learned?
Dutch words and names look and sound weird.
5) Konstantin Ushkov (born August 2, 1977) is a retired butterfly swimmer from Russia, who won the silver medal at the 1996 Summer Olympics in freestyle relay. He also competed for Kyrgyzstan at the 2000 Summer Olympics.
What Have We Learned?
Some people are lucky enough to be able to retire by age 34.
6) The Free Presbyterian Church of Scotland was formed in 1893 and claims to be the spiritual descendant of the Scottish Reformation. It is sometimes colloquially known as the Wee Wee Frees (not to be confused with the "Wee Frees", which is the colloquial name for another offshoot of the Church of Scotland, the Free Church of Scotland).
What Have We Learned?
"Wee Wee Frees"??? #smh
7) Ecuadorian Sign Language (ESL) is the deaf sign language of Ecuador. ESL is a language isolate (a "prototype" sign language), though one developed through stimulus diffusion from an existing sign language, likely French Sign Language.
What Have We Learned?
Actually, not a darned thing. Seeing as I don't know what a "language isolate" is (do you?) or "stimulus diffusion" (how about that one?), I actually feel dumber now than I did before reading this.
8) Litoria moorei (common name: motorbike frog) is a species of frog that's well-known in Southwest Australia for its signature call which sounds like a motorbike changing up through gears. The Litoria moorei is a ground-dwelling tree frog which is able to camouflage itself well, ranging in color from dark brown, through to green and gold. Its underside is noticeably lighter, and usually ranges from very pale green to light brown.
What Have We Learned?
That "ground-dwelling tree frog" seems to be a misnomer. Why not just call them ground frogs, or simply frogs? Or, in the case of this motorin' amphibian, how about "Harley Davidson"?
9) A stemple is a form of wooden step used in mining, caving, and mountaineering, usually a wooden bar set between notches in rock walls for climbing purposes, often one of a series forming a ladder. If not well maintained, stemples can rot and should not always be trusted. The origin of the word is in the German "Stempel", meaning a stamp or prop.
What Have We Learned?
That stemples and Wikipedia have something in common – they should not always be trusted.
10) Guiseppe Gonzaga (March 20, 1690 - August 16, 1746) was the last Duke of Guastalla (now a part of Italy). The second son of Vincenzo Gonazaga, Duke of Guastalla and Maria Vittoria Gonzaga, Giuseppe was mentally handicapped. When his elder brother Duke Antonio Ferrante died in an accident in 1729, Guiseppe was the only remaining male member of the family, so he became Duke. Giuseppe would probably have never married, but when he became Duke, a marriage was arranged in 1731 with the 16-year-old Eleonore von Holstein (1715 – 1760), daughter of Duke Leopold of Schleswig-Holstein-Sonderburg-Wiesenburg. The marriage remained childless.
What Have We Learned?
That a mentally handicapped man was made a Duke in the early 1700s because of his brother's accidental death – a title which he might never have attained otherwise, due to his handicap. No smart-alecky comments here – that's just straight-up interesting. And thought-provoking.
Now, why not take your own jaunt through the awesomeness that is "Random Article"? Happy Learning!
Not All Music Is Garbage!: A Few Overlooked Gems Amid A Sea Of Mediocrity
There are two things I hate about the music industry:
• That so many artists get lots of attention that they don't deserve.
• That so many artists don't get lots of attention who do deserve it.
It's that second group – the undiscovered or overlooked gems amid a sea of mediocrity – that I want to focus on here. I will concede, to begin with, that all music is extremely relative. What I love, you may hate. What you adore, I may despise. But this is my blog, and it's not my job to decide what you like, only to share with you what I like.
I should also mention, in case you miss the obvious, that I tend to enjoy listening to female singers more than males. Always have, probably always will. That being said, here are 10 of my favorite "gems", in no particular order...Enjoy!
1) Zee Avi – "Bitter Heart"
2) Lucy Schwartz – "Life In Letters"
3) Kina Grannis – "Valentine"
4) Maia Hirasawa – "Gothenburg"
5) Meaghan Smith – "I Know"
6) Meiko – "Under My Bed"
7) Priscilla Ahn – "Dream"
9) Sophie Madeleine – "Take Your Love With Me"
10) Stacy Clark – "Not Enough"
• That so many artists get lots of attention that they don't deserve.
• That so many artists don't get lots of attention who do deserve it.
It's that second group – the undiscovered or overlooked gems amid a sea of mediocrity – that I want to focus on here. I will concede, to begin with, that all music is extremely relative. What I love, you may hate. What you adore, I may despise. But this is my blog, and it's not my job to decide what you like, only to share with you what I like.
I should also mention, in case you miss the obvious, that I tend to enjoy listening to female singers more than males. Always have, probably always will. That being said, here are 10 of my favorite "gems", in no particular order...Enjoy!
1) Zee Avi – "Bitter Heart"
2) Lucy Schwartz – "Life In Letters"
4) Maia Hirasawa – "Gothenburg"
5) Meaghan Smith – "I Know"
6) Meiko – "Under My Bed"
7) Priscilla Ahn – "Dream"
8) Corinne Bailey Rae – "Like A Star"
9) Sophie Madeleine – "Take Your Love With Me"
10) Stacy Clark – "Not Enough"
Friday, October 28, 2011
The Ties That Bind
Today I wore a tie for the third time this month.
I should preface this by saying that I am not a fan of wearing ties, or even of dressing up in general. But sometimes the situation or the occasion calls for it, and I, mostly not grudgingly, will comply.
The first time I donned a tie this month was for my sister-in-law's wedding. I had been asked to say a prayer for the happy couple during the ceremony. Not being officially part of the wedding party, I hadn't been instructed to wear any particular type of outfit, but a dress shirt and pants and a tie seemed appropriate, so that's what I wore. All in all, it went well. My prayer was scripted – I don't really do improv that well – but they seemed to like it. Not that I was saying it to them, but still...
The second time I was all tied up was two weeks later for our church's Night of Drama production. I was acting in one of the mini-plays – it was a live radio drama – and I was the Narrator. Since I was also the director of that particular play, I could have told myself to wear whatever I wanted, but it was a significant role, and somewhat a central character, so I figured I'd go all out and put on the old tie again (same one as the wedding two weeks prior, by the way). For the second time, I'd worn a tie for an event that brought people together as a family. That's how we think of ourselves, us drama folk. We're somewhat of a breed apart, I guess you could say. But we understand each other.
Today I wore a tie for the third and final time this month. The occasion was undoubtedly the least joyous of the trio, and yet it was the most joyous. I was attending the funeral of a 7-year old little girl who, after two brave years of fighting a vicious brain tumor, had lost the battle. I can hear you asking the question right now: how on earth could this be a joyous occasion? Good question. Short answer: It can't. On earth, that is. Lydia Byrd's family and friends will never again see her as she was in this life. But they will see her again – those who believe as she believed, at least – in the life to come, which is everlasting. Sweet Lydia is waiting there for our arrival. But she isn't missing us, not like we're missing her at least. She's got Jesus by her side. Today was a celebration of her life, and we cried together, we smiled because of who she was, and we rejoiced for her reunion with her Maker. And again, this was an occasion that brought together a disparate group of people as a family.
Today I didn't mind wearing that tie.
I should preface this by saying that I am not a fan of wearing ties, or even of dressing up in general. But sometimes the situation or the occasion calls for it, and I, mostly not grudgingly, will comply.
The first time I donned a tie this month was for my sister-in-law's wedding. I had been asked to say a prayer for the happy couple during the ceremony. Not being officially part of the wedding party, I hadn't been instructed to wear any particular type of outfit, but a dress shirt and pants and a tie seemed appropriate, so that's what I wore. All in all, it went well. My prayer was scripted – I don't really do improv that well – but they seemed to like it. Not that I was saying it to them, but still...
The second time I was all tied up was two weeks later for our church's Night of Drama production. I was acting in one of the mini-plays – it was a live radio drama – and I was the Narrator. Since I was also the director of that particular play, I could have told myself to wear whatever I wanted, but it was a significant role, and somewhat a central character, so I figured I'd go all out and put on the old tie again (same one as the wedding two weeks prior, by the way). For the second time, I'd worn a tie for an event that brought people together as a family. That's how we think of ourselves, us drama folk. We're somewhat of a breed apart, I guess you could say. But we understand each other.
Today I wore a tie for the third and final time this month. The occasion was undoubtedly the least joyous of the trio, and yet it was the most joyous. I was attending the funeral of a 7-year old little girl who, after two brave years of fighting a vicious brain tumor, had lost the battle. I can hear you asking the question right now: how on earth could this be a joyous occasion? Good question. Short answer: It can't. On earth, that is. Lydia Byrd's family and friends will never again see her as she was in this life. But they will see her again – those who believe as she believed, at least – in the life to come, which is everlasting. Sweet Lydia is waiting there for our arrival. But she isn't missing us, not like we're missing her at least. She's got Jesus by her side. Today was a celebration of her life, and we cried together, we smiled because of who she was, and we rejoiced for her reunion with her Maker. And again, this was an occasion that brought together a disparate group of people as a family.
Today I didn't mind wearing that tie.
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