Category Archives: Uncategorized

I Have Practically Zero Interest in Sports…

…but even I gotta say it: Go Cavs! That’s friggin’ amazing.

Friday Links

First off, this wonderful bit of news:

John Kasich is in agony over his decision last year to support the eventual Republican nominee and the current reality that Donald Trump is his party’s presumptive standard-bearer.

“You know, it’s painful. It’s painful. You know, people even get divorces, you know? I mean, sometimes, things come out that, look, I’m sorry that this has happened,” the Ohio governor said in an interview aired Thursday on MSNBC’s “Morning Joe.” “But we’ll see where it ends up. I’m not making any final decision yet, but at this point, I just can’t do it.

I love my governor more all the time. Disagree with him a lot, but still love ‘im.

On a different subject, here’s a short discussion about the reluctance of soldiers to kill:

The results were consistently the same: only 15 to 20 percent of the American riflemen in combat during World War II would fire at the enemy. … The question is why. … [The answer] is the simple and demonstrable fact that there is within most men an intense resistance to killing their fellow man. A resistance so strong that, in many circumstances, soldiers on the battlefield will die before they can overcome it.

More on this is available from the wonderful Delanceyplace.

Finally, here’s one for the Buffy fans among my readers (all three of you):

Have a measurably superior weekend!

Call Bank of America, I Don’t Give a F***

A week ago, I got a paper bill from Bank of America. Included in the envelope were a couple of ads – because if you’re trying to get money, you might as well try to get money, too.

One of the ads caught my eye, and I’ve taken the liberty of scanning it for you:

llama bank of america

I can appreciate the wordplay (letterplay?) with “Llearn to llove your app.” Except – wait a minute –

That llama.

I know that llama.

I was sitting beside Betsy last night, seeing this thing for the first time, when I yelled: “That’s the ‘Call the cops, I don’t give a fuck’ llama!”

“Come on,” I said, “google it!”

Betsy was looking up baby stuff at the time (the nerve!) but dutifully opened a new browser tab and did an image search. Sure enough, here was the meme-style image I remembered:

llama cops

People.

It’s the same llama.

same llama

I did some reading. It turns out that the llama photo gets lots of other captions, and the meme is less about the “Call the cops” phrase, and more about “Look, it’s a llama wearing a scarf.”

The precise origins of the llama image are tough to pin down (and Know Your Meme is no help), but supposedly it actually began as an old Banana Republic ad, of all things. (If anyone can find a convincing, authoritative source for this, please let me know.) The original image is allegedly:

llama original

Glorious.

So it makes sense that Bank of America, advertising an app with an ad that mentions “hashtags, selfies and emojis,” might use an Internet meme. But I’m still impressed with (1) the relatively obscure choice of meme, compared to, say, Grumpy Cat, and (2) the subtlety of it, with nothing in the ad mentioning that it’s an Internet culture reference.

Maybe the graphic designer didn’t tell the marketing people. That would be amazing.

Also, if the image really is a Banana Republic ad originally, then presumably it’s copyrighted. That, in turn, means that one of two things happened. Either Bank of America stole intellectual property so it could put a little-known Internet meme on a paper ad – or it paid money to Banana Republic so it could print images of a scarf-wearing llama.

I can’t decide which would be funnier.

Brian Answers Ad Questions with Literal Accuracy

Got milk?

Yes, I have a half gallon of 1% on the top shelf of the refrigerator. But it’s almost empty, so I will have to purchase more in the near future. This purchase/consumption cycle has been part of my life for as long as I can remember.

What’s in your wallet?

Two credit cards (neither of which is from Capital One), a driver’s license, two medical insurance cards (one is for vision), a Books A Million membership card that I rarely use, an old ID card I never use, a prescription card, two blank checks for emergencies, and $121 cash.

Have you had your break today?

I woke up two hours ago. I would consider the sleep to be a break.

What would you do for a Klondike bar?

Aside from the obvious (paying a reasonable sum to purchase one in the grocery store), I would also accept a Klondike bar in exchange for memorizing and repeating a sequence of 50 arbitrary digits.

Where’s the beef?

This is a vague question, but broadly speaking, it’s in refrigerated storage spaces and living cattle. Frankly, if you can’t find it, I have to wonder how hard you’re looking, as it’s fairly ubiquitous (at least in the United States).

Pardon me, but do you have any Grey Poupon?

I do not. The closest thing I have is a jar of Braswell’s Select Honey Mustard Dipping Sauce.

How do you spell relief?

Confidently, relying on my expertise as a National Spelling Bee competitor, author, and professional copyeditor. If for any reason I were less than confident on this question, I would turn to Merriam-Webster Unabridged, a subscription service that costs $32 annually and is worth every penny, mainly for the faster load times and lack of ads.

Where do you want to go today?

I’m thinking Meijer. I have a few things to buy. Other than that, I tend to stay inside a lot, probably more than is healthy. I may take a walk with Betsy tonight, although it’s raining at the moment.

Wassup?

Besides writing a blog post, I’m also pondering how I’m going to meet all my editing deadlines, and considering installing some new smoke detectors today.

Have you driven a Ford lately?

No. My car is a 2006 base-model four-cylinder silver Honda Accord. Betsy has a Kia Sorento. I rarely drive vehicles other than these.

Can you hear me now?

No. This is a text-based medium, and you’re hypothetical in any case.

Did somebody say McDonald’s?

That is a thing that has happened, yes. But if you’re asking whether someone in this conversation mentioned McDonald’s recently, the only occurrence of that was in your question just now, and in my response, both of which you presumably already knew about.

How many licks does it take to get to the Tootsie-Roll center of a Tootsie-Pop?

I don’t know. I’m sure this depends on a wide array of factors, but I’d be interested in seeing a statistical distribution from a controlled test based on the typical Tootsie-Pop-licking scenario. I would imagine that in many cases the Tootsie-Pop is discarded before the Tootsie-Roll center is revealed.

Perhaps the more relevant question is why you want to know in the first place. It seems like an odd thing to wonder about. I’m not judging by any means, I’m just curious about your curiosity.

Need a minute?

I need an enormous quantity of minutes. Time is arguably the most precious commodity that exists, since no good things can happen without it (metaphysical and supernatural situations aside). I do worry pretty often about whether I’m making good enough use of my time, or if I’m wasting it. The irony – that such worrying is, itself, usually a waste of time – is not lost on me.

Sorry, that went to kind of an existential place.

Hungry? Why wait?

I am not hungry right now. But even if I were, I can imagine myriad reasons for waiting, including: no food currently available; fasting in preparation for a blood test; concern about making a mess or spilling on dress clothes; doing so would be socially inappropriate at the moment; deliberate spitefulness.

There. Now I hope that’s all settled.

Adobe Reeder and Microsoft Wyrd

Quick quiz: Which of the following has a spellcheck feature?

A. Microsoft Word 2013
B. Adobe Acrobat Reader DC
C. Internet Explorer 11

If you said C, Internet Explorer 11, congratulations! We have a winner!

But wait,  you say, in this hypothetical and rather one-sided conversation. Doesn’t Adobe Reader have spellcheck?

Well, sort of. It has a spellcheck for comments only. If you add comments to a PDF, you can spellcheck those. But the actual text itself – you know, the document, the thing you’d want to spellcheck – forget it.

Admittedly, it’s freeware, and I have it on good authority that the paid version does include spellcheck. So I guess this is forgivable.

But what about MS Word? Hold on, you protest, in this increasingly elaborate faux discussion I’ve invented. I know Word has spellcheck.

Well, sort of. What Word has is a spelling and grammar check.

Isn’t that even better? Two features in one?

It’s better if you actually want to check both spelling and grammar. But say you have a giant document with a zillion grammar “errors” (maybe due to unusual formatting or dialect) and you only care about spelling. That spellcheck-only feature is starting to look mighty tempting. Too bad it doesn’t exist. Your best alternative is to scroll through the doc and hunt for red-underlined words in the sea of blue.

Look, I think Word is an amazing application. When I ponder all the things it can do, I’m a little bit awestruck (if it’s possible to feel a little bit of awe). So I’m not complaining that they failed to develop yet another feature. It’s just, you know, they already developed the feature, and I’m not sure why they decided to duct-tape it to another one.

Anyway, that’s my rant. And if I’m wrong about either of these programs, please, please let me know. I’ll be thrilled.

Plus, then our conversation will be non-hypothetical. And won’t that be fun?

Update: Reader L. Palmer helpfully points out that Word has a feature under File, Options, Proofing, called “Check grammar with spelling.” You can uncheck this for a straight spellcheck. (Bizarrely, it still doesn’t filter 100% of the grammar errors, but seems to skip the vast majority.) Not sure how I missed this – I could’ve sworn I looked there! Thanks, L. Palmer!

Eggcorns, Mondegreens, and Memetic Mutation

The idea for this post was suggested by my friend Josh.

A mondegreen is a misheard song lyric. For instance, mishearing a line from a Scottish ballad – “They hae slain the Earl o’ Moray and laid him on the green” – as, “They hae slain the Earl o’ Moray and Lady Mondegreen.” Or Jimi Hendrix’s “‘Scuse me while I kiss the sky” (“‘Scuse me while I kiss this guy”).

An eggcorn (named after a mishearing of “acorn”) is similar. Wikipedia and other sources disagree on the precise distinction between the two. But in both cases, you hear something wrong and it gets inscribed in your brain as correct, sometimes for years.

This has happened to almost everyone. It’s analogous, in a way, to genetic mutation. What’s meant to be an exact copy becomes a variation instead. (The knowledge equivalent of a gene is a “meme,” from the days before it referred to an Internet joke.) But memes, I think, have a much higher success rate in their mutation than genes do.

In many cases, I’ll mishear or misremember a song lyric, embrace my wrong version, and then be deeply disappointed when I hear what it’s supposed to be. From “Are You Gonna Be My Girl,” for instance, I thought for a long time that the line was “Big black boots / Long blonde hair / She’s so sweet / With her jet-black stare.” The real line is “…get back stare.” The real version is actually more creative, whereas my version is a cliche, but I still like mine better.

Likewise, the “Drift Away” line “Give me the beat, boys, and free my soul” was in my head for a long time as “Millions of people want to free my soul.” The original definitely makes more sense, but then, when has rock ever been about making sense?

Betsy is the queen of mondegreening. I love listening to her sing, because it seems like half the time, I get to hear a new version of the song. The line from “All the Right Moves” – “Do you think I’m special? Do you think I’m nice?” – has become, in her head, “Do you think I’m special? Do you think I’m smart?” She now knows that her version is “wrong,” but sings it anyway, every time. Like me, she just likes the variations better.

In some ways this is similar to the idea of fanon (fan + canon), where the listeners or readers or viewers decide for themselves what the song or story “really” is. And it’s as old as storytelling itself.

Where else do stories come from, after all, but older stories?

Friday Link

There’s this thing called TiddlyWiki, and despite the ridiculous name, it is – as the kids say these days – the best thing ever. Basically it’s Wikipedia, except it’s just on your own computer, so only you can edit it, and you start with a blank slate and make the articles about whatever you want.

It’s a great way to organize free-form knowledge and ideas. I’m using it for Crane Girl now – characters, settings, plot, etc.

It’s possible I might be a little obsessed. But then, that’s nothing new.

My Cinematic Pantheon

ex machina

Everyone who loves movies must surely have a pantheon. I don’t just mean movies that you like, or movies that are good. I mean that rarefied circle of films that have found a long-term home in your heart, the ones you can watch a dozen times and still love.

I took a stab at writing down mine. I may be missing some – it’s hard to think of all of them. Conversely, some of these I’ve seen only once (so far), so they might not hold up if I watched them again. But I think this is the list, approximately.

(I did not include documentaries.)

  • Aladdin
  • Aviator, The
  • Beauty and the Beast
  • Bicentennial Man
  • Catch Me If You Can
  • Closer (2004)
  • Contact
  • Dark Knight, The
  • Dead Poets Society
  • Donnie Darko
  • Ex Machina
  • Galaxy Quest
  • Gran Torino
  • Groundhog Day
  • Inception
  • Incredibles, The
  • Independence Day
  • Inside Out
  • Iron Giant, The
  • It’s a Wonderful Life
  • Jurassic Park
  • Last Night (1998)
  • Lion King, The
  • Little Miss Sunshine
  • Love Actually
  • Man Who Knew Too Little, The
  • Matrix, The
  • Moneyball
  • Monty Python and the Holy Grail
  • Moonrise Kingdom
  • Mr. Holland’s Opus
  • Napoleon Dynamite
  • Nightmare Before Christmas, The
  • Ocean’s Eleven (2001)
  • Office Space
  • Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl
  • Princess Bride, The
  • Safety Not Guaranteed
  • Shrek 2
  • Social Network, The
  • Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home
  • Star Trek: First Contact
  • Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back
  • Star Wars: Return of the Jedi
  • Stepford Wives, The (1975)
  • Superbad
  • Tropic Thunder
  • Truman Show, The
  • What About Bob?
  • Whiskey Tango Foxtrot
  • Wizard of Oz, The
  • Wreck-It Ralph

How about you?

Postmortem: Ruthless

ruthless

I have a history with – or rather, against – the Church of Scientology.

A number of years ago, I started reading about the Church. I forget exactly what sparked it. But I remember my utter fascination at getting a glimpse into what seemed like an alternate reality.

Scientology has some really weird beliefs, sure. But people are entitled to their weird beliefs – myself included. I don’t begrudge them that.

My problem isn’t with the beliefs, nor with individual Scientologists. My problem is with the organization itself.

See, the group that calls itself the Church of Scientology is actually a cult that practices extortion, intimidation, harassment, abuse, and dishonesty on a massive scale, while offering little or nothing in return to the thousands of honest believers who open their checkbooks again, and again, and again.

The Church has a prison camp. I’m not exaggerating or sensationalizing. I mean they literally have a cluster of buildings surrounded by a barbed wire fence, patrolled by guards, monitored by cameras, in which there are Scientologists who desperately want to leave but are physically prevented from doing so, for years. This area, believe it or not, is the Scientology world headquarters – known as Gold Base – in California. You can see it on Google Maps. (The Church, of course, denies this and all other allegations of wrongdoing.)

The Church practices something called “disconnection,” which means that if a Scientologist leaves the Church, any family members who remain are forbidden from having any contact with them. In other words, they break up families, often for many years.

The Church has an internal organization called the Sea Org, whose members are supposed to be 100% dedicated to the Church. Women in the Sea Org who become pregnant are encouraged to have abortions.

I could go on.

And by all means, don’t take my word for it. All the information above is based on numerous reports from many different people who have left the Church over the years. The stories are publicly available and easy to find. Google will tell you whatever you want to know.

So, as I said, the Church of Scientology has been on my radar for a long time. (I even attended some public protests against them back in the day.) So when I saw a book about “Scientology, my son David Miscavige, and me,” naturally I was interested.

David Miscavige, you see, is the hot-tempered, abusive, power-hungry leader of the Church of Scientology. He is the successor to its founder, science fiction author L. Ron Hubbard, who died in 1986.

I finished reading Ruthless a couple days ago. It was fascinating.

See, no matter how many times I read about the cruelty and insanity of the Church, I’m still amazed all over again each time I read a new account. This one, coming from the father of the Church’s leader, was especially interesting.

He talks about how he got interested in Scientology in the first place, how he got his wife and kids (including David) involved, how the early years were happy and hopeful. Although I don’t think the Church was ever a good organization, it does seem clear that they’ve taken a real nosedive in the past three decades, under David’s leadership.

Ron (the author) talks about joining the aforementioned Sea Org, which is something like a Bizarro version of the Navy. As the years went by, the long hours got ever longer, the days off got less and less common, the pay got lower, the expectations got higher, the rewards evaporated, the punishments got more sadistic, and sleep became an ever more precious commodity.

Eventually, he moved to Gold Base. At first it was just a large, expensive, impressive headquarters for a worldwide organization. But Ron watched as security grew tighter and tighter over time, until it was literally impossible to get permission to leave. Ron said there were stretches lasting years in which he didn’t get a single day off. He says all-nighters were very common, and he once had to stay up more than 80 hours straight finishing a project.

Even the impossible deadlines and insane schedules might have been bearable, had the environment been more positive. But, Ron says, David was an obsessive micromanager and constantly abusive, screaming at people and insulting them and shaming them. Nothing was ever good enough. Lower-level managers picked up his attitude (or else they were removed). And the abuses weren’t just verbal. People were physically hit, or forced to stay in hot rooms for weeks, or shoved into a lake, or even (in one bizarre instance) forced to live in a shack out by a swamp, away from everyone else, for months.

Ron finally got out of this place in 2012. And when he refers to his departure as an “escape,” he is not exaggerating.

I admit that the book’s writing style is not very good, which is odd since Ron evidently had a ghostwriter. The story wanders sometimes, with large chunks that feel sorta irrelevant, and the prose is a little choppy. But those faults are easy to overlook in exchange for the engrossing view it offers into the Bizarro world that is the Church of Scientology.

Thoughts on the Five-Month Ultrasound

baby ultrasound

We had our second, possibly final, ultrasound on Friday. (More precisely, Betsy got an ultrasound and I watched.) The kid is a boy, as I mentioned Saturday.

It’s strange. The whole thing is strange.

First of all, ultrasounds are magic, it’s that simple. It’s technology and science that causes the magic, to be sure, but that doesn’t make it any less wizardlike. Think about it: they can pulse sound waves into a woman’s abdomen and create a three-dimensional real-time moving picture of an unborn human. We are living in the future, there’s no other explanation.

Surprisingly, though, the picture at 21 weeks is not as good as the picture at 10 weeks. There’s a lot more information, yes (gender, for instance), but because each picture is a cross section, and the baby is so much bigger now, it’s hard to get a single snapshot that shows you the whole kid at once. The one above isn’t bad, though.

The ultrasound took about an hour, and the nurse was great. There are a million things they have to check for, and she explained it all as she went: making sure the hands open sometimes (non-opening hands are a sign of Down syndrome), measuring the femur, counting bones in the hands and feet, and so on. I’m sure she’s done this a thousand times before, but she still made it sound like it was interesting to her (and hey, maybe it was). And she answered all our questions.

It’s weird knowing it’s a boy. On the one hand, it makes the kid seem more like a real person, which is good. On the other hand, it makes the kid seem more like a real person, which is bizarre. This is actually going to happen, evidently.

Also, for some reason, we’re finding it much, much harder to pick a name for a boy. There are a zillion girl names we like, but our shortlist (read: full list) for boy names only has four possibilities. And one of them is a long shot.

What are they? Well, I suppose I could share:

  • Agamemnon
  • Radagast
  • Jα§ρer
  • Palpatine Iscariot III, Jr.

Five months down, four to go.