Thoughts about stuff

As you can see by the title, I am pursuing a brand new era in vagueness.

According to this article, something interesting is happening in the world of Scrabble.

No, not that a boy was caught cheating – he was palming blank tiles, which apparently explained a previous suspiciously strong performance – but that the media has blown the whole thing out of perspective, and presumably made this poor kid’s life miserable while also pissing off the Scrabble set.

Because it is not like the media treats Scrabble seriously. So the news angle is all “Aww look, something interesting happened in boring old lame Scrabble. ” That is not making anyone happy.

I can only imagine that people in the serious Scrabble community feel rather like those of us in the Furry community whenever the media spotlight shines our way. In theory, in a perfect world, it would be a good thing that spreads happy news about your oddball little subculture.

But in this imperfect world, the real world, all it does is invite snide mockery from media asshats and peanut gallery hooting and hollering from the unwashed and ignorant masses, and you really wish these media cretins has just left you and your happy little group alone.

So my sympathies go out to the world of competitive Scrabble today. And do not worry, this too shall pass. It seems almost unendurable now, but not too long from now, it will just be an old scar that still hurts if you prod at it, but otherwise has faded from your mind.

Myself, I love Scrabble. Great game for a word nerd like me. I am not that good at it, because I do not really think strategically enough for a complex multi-axis game like that. So I am good at the finding and forming words part, but serious players kick my ass because they know how to block strategic areas and think three moves ahead and all that.

I am going to be going to a barbeque at the home of my roomie Joe’s parents this evening. I am looking forward to it, while acknowledging the thick stew of social anxiety and trepidation bubbling in the back burner of my mind.

I have tried to just push all social anxiety from my mind and approach these situations as though I am a normal person looking forward to a standard social gathering, but that has a tendency to backfire on me. Sooner or later, that unwatched pot boils over, and when it does, I am in a far worse situation because it is completely overwhelming and I end up having to flee in one way or another.

Bathrooms. We social anxiety type love bathrooms. We can hide there until the panic subsides.

So instead of trying to ignore the pot and pretend it is not there, I will simply accept that I am going to have to keep an eye on it all night, and stir it and cool it and care for it carefully so that it stays at that nice easy to handle low simmer and does not blow up in my face.

But hey. Blowups happen. I might have one anyhow. And I will just have to deal with it.

Sometimes I wish I could somehow just destroy that part of my brain, the part that cannot relax in social situations and continues to accumulate panic the longer I am in them. The part that makes me feel like I am constantly on the edge of social disaster, that I am surely about to say something stupid or rude or excessively blunt and/or incisive and the only solution is to flee, flee, flee back into the forest and find myself a deep dark cool hole to hide in until I can breathe again.

And the thing is, it is always there. Even right now, when I am alone in the apartment, in my room, in front of my computer, at the maximum comfort level currently available to me in this world, I can feel the social anxiety fulminating in the background of my psyche, ready to slap a vise around my heart and pour high test anxiety toxins into my bloodstream and set my head pouncing and making me feel like a hunted animal two seconds away from death at the jaws of a predator.

I think that is a lot of what “informs” my depression. The anxiety pushes me into this tight tiny corner of life, trapping me in a cage that has no locks, no doors, no bars even. Just a relentless wind that blows on me constantly and chills me to the bone, and inevitably pushes me into the deepest hole just to get away from the wind as much as I possibly can.

Even when I am just hanging out with my friends, whom I love, sitting on my own little couch and watching videos and chatting and laughing and having a great time, the happiest moments in my so-called life right now, there is a part of me that wants to run away, flee to my bedroom and turn the light out and lay down and wait until the anxiety goes away.

I don’t do that, thank goodness. The urge is fairly low in comfortable, familiar surroundings with people I know and trust, and who know and understand me.

They know exactly what kind of weirdo I am, more or less, and they still like me. And really, what more can you ask for in friends?

But still, a number of times in an evening, I will feel a stab of desire to flee, or a longing to be at my computer where I control the stimulation level and type at all times.

But all this said, I am making progress. The wind grows weaker every day, or perhaps I am merely growing a thicker pelt. I can better imagine walking into social situations with some degree of confidence now.

And hey, I am going to a BBQ. And you know what that means?

Free food! And drink.

Hey, whatever motivates you, right?

And now, the news (Dead Pedo edition)

Got some interesting news stories to gab on today, so let’s get down to it, boppers!

The Rise Of The Concierge

There is an interesting story about the rise of companies offering concierge services to the super wealthy in London over at The Guardian.

How wealthy do you have to be? Well, you have to be able to afford five thousand pounds a month, or slightly less then eight thousand dollars a month Canadian, for the services, and even after that, you still have to foot the bill for whatever you ask of them.

But demand is high because of all the super wealthy people fleeing European financial instability to the safe and secure shores of the UK (score one for the British banking system), and the services often have long waiting lists and hundreds of wealthy and powerful clients.

I find this very interesting not because I am inherently fascinated by the actions of the excessively rich, but because I find it interesting that people who “have everything” are willing to pay so much for someone who has what they do not : knowledge, contacts, and competence.

The role of the concierge is a highly demanding and multifaceted one. It required an incredibly high level of knowledge, access, customer service capacity, patience, ingenuity, and raw competence. The concierge is the person who knows how to get things done, and I am inherently fascinated by such people because I am the sort of person who almost never knows how to get things done.

So I fully understand why someone is willing to pay so much for this rare and valuable capacity. Even if I had a billion dollars, I would still not be that kind of person. It reminds me of the famous Robert Heinlein story “We Also Walk Dogs”, about a company that specializes in solving people’s problems much like a concierge might. (The title comes from the fact that it started out as a dog walking company. )

Meet Officer Mitt

And in other news, the evidence that Miit Romney is a terrible human being continues to pile up, as a college classmate has recently revealed that in college, Mitt got a state trooper uniform from his father the Governor and used it to impersonate a state trooper and play a cruel joke on some girls.

And not only that, he bragged to his fellow students that he was going to do.

Basically, he got the uniform through his father, then governor of the state, who had uniformed state troopers as his personal bodyguard. He also got a big flashing light for his vehicle, He then used them to pick up and harass girls from a local girl’s school, and to play a “prank” where he pulled over two friends of his who were in on the prank and scare the friends’ dates, who they then abandoned.

Obviously, impersonating an officer of the law is a serious crime no matter where you live, and I find it very interesting that a rich and over-privileged college freshman like Romney would be so attracted to one of the only forms of power and privilege unavailable to him : the law.

My increasing worry about Romney is that he is so absolutely out of touch with reality due to his extreme wealth and privileged upbringing that he has absolutely no concept of the consequences of his actions. That he is exactly the sort of person who would do terrible things and not only not care that he hurt others, but do them with a smile on his face and the full and honest expectation of praise and approval at the end.

That is exactly the sort of person who is far more dangerous than any mere sociopath, because sociopaths at least have enough sense of self-preservation to try to avoid the appearance of evil. Romney has no idea anything he does would even be considered wrong by others.

He is a terrible candidate. I hope that means he will lose.

Today’s Most Popular Murder

Finally, we present the most popular death by bludgeoning in a long time, the case of a father who discovered his four year old daughter having sex with a man, and reacted by beating the man to death.

Predictably, the Internet is abuzz with people declaring this murderer to be a hero, as pedophiles are officially the most hated people in society, and thus perfect fodder for venting our vilest hate.

The guy is not a hero. He is not a villain either, for that matter. To me, he is a tragic victim of circumstance, someone who stumbled across the unthinkable, reacted in an extreme way, and now has to live with the knowledge that not only did he kill another human being with his own hands, but that he did it right in front of his already traumatized four year old daughter.

So not only the child molested, she saw her father kill someone. That is not the outcome of heroic action, it is the outline of a terrible life scarring tragedy. And I am particularly offended by the way the article offhandedly mentions that the Sheriff described the child as “OK besides the obvious mental trauma.”, as though that was just a minor thing she can just walk off.

To me, it is obvious that the girl would have been far better off if her father had just pulled the man away from his daughter and then held him till the cops showed up.

But no, people have learned that it is socially acceptable to wish all kinds of horrors upon pedophiles, and so they caper with glee at the prospect of one getting killed in the act.

Screw what is best for the child, we don’t care about her. We like it better this way. Much more satisfyingly bloody and violent. Scratches that deep down witch burning itch we all share.

Rape is wrong. Child rape is even worse. I am not defending the dead man’s actions.

But whenever people are cheering the murder of any person, count me out.

Too much stuff!

This is getting to be a Thursday “thing”, isn’t it? Damn. I am a writer, I am supposed to be creative and unpredictable. Yet no matter what, order and stability always emerge from the chaos.

I am pretty sure there is something really deep and meaningful in there about chaos math and emergent systems like, for instance, life. But I got content to share and people to do, so I am not going to go into it now.

Thus, it will dissolve back into the chaos of my mind, and emerge again in a completely different form.

Creativity is so freaky!

All right, what all do I want to share?

Well, there is this pic that Weird All (all hail the Al!) posted to his Twitter recently :

SHOVE YOUR CAN INTO MY CRINKLY HOLE HUMAN!

Al’s caption is “I always get a little grossed out whenever I see a Pepsi sphincter. “. Bet most of you did not even know that is where Pepsi came from….

Just kidding. This is not Futurama and Pepsi is not Slurm.

If you haven't seen the episode, trust me, you don't wanna know

But still, there is definitely something uncomfortably sphinctoid about that design. I am sure Al was not the first person to note this.

Not that I blame Pepsi. That is the natural design for things you want to only go one way. Nature does know what it is doing sometimes.

And honestly, I am a pretty straightforward, pragmatic, direct person, but even I would have trouble being the guy at the meeting who raises his hand and says “Um…. doesn’t this look just a little too much like a butthole for something we want associated with a brown drink?”

Even if they agree with you, they are never going to look at you the same way again.

Speaking of pictures, this one had been making the rounds of the Internet because it expresses a simple truth of our times so well.

Same hate, different era

Sorry to drop the serious on you all, but this is the sort of thing that needs to be shared.

The Twitter message that went with this pic puts it perfectly.

“These two pictures will be viewed/judged identically by our children and their children. ”

Spot on, my friend. From this point onward, history will judge the two fights for civil rights, and the incredibly ugliness that the light of reason and charity drives to the surface when the fight is nearly done, to be the same. They will see no difference between people marching to prevent interracial marriage and marching to prevent gay marriage. And there is a reason for that.

Because there is no difference.

We in the GBLT community should not take the recent victory of the anti gay marriage forces in North Carolina too hard. This is the sort of thing that always happens when the fight is nearly over. The right wing reactionaries always put up the biggest fight when they realize public opinion is against them and they know that this is their last chance to try to pray the tide away.

And it never makes a bit of difference, because all their protesting and blocking entrance to schools and spewing hate into every available microphone does is further cement their image as horrible, cruel, mean, nasty people who are definitely way outside the mainstream, and hence, they lose all credibility with the massive movable middle who truly decided how things work.

They make it so that nobody who thinks of themselves as a nice person, a sensible person, or even just a socially acceptable person will be willing to associate with them, and hence the balance shifts towards the liberal side of the teeter-totter.

And it will never shift back.

What else should I share…. well, there is this thing.

It it making the rounds of Internet movie fans with remarkable speed, and I can see why, but to me, it is highly flawed. The editing is quite jerky and unnatural, the compositing is crudely done, and there are large stretches which are not comedically justified.

I mean, sure, the whole “You talkin to me?” scene is the most famous scene from Taxi Drive (for some reason), but that does not mean you have to just stick a Mickey hat on DeNiro and put it in there. That is just not funny or interesting.

And sure, what they did with the “All the animals come out at night” speech was amusing, but even then it was off pace and went by too quickly.

Again, I can see why it has caught on. But to me, it is far too sloppy, crude, and unfunny to justify its popularity. I think it gets passed around mostly on premise alone, and that is never pretty.

Finally, a depressing bit of news that nevertheless needs to spread far and wide : Mitt Romney was a vicious bully in high school.

And he went to a very expensive and exclusive high school. So those were other rich kids he was bullying. He cut off one “presumed gay” student’s hair.

I am pretty sure that makes him officially evil, right? As if his bastardly practices at Bain Capital, where he and his rich friends had tons of fun taking successful business and running them into the ground for fun and profit, were not enough.

Nope, he was also a laughing, smirking, cruel, mocking bully who made fellow students’ lives miserable and seemingly had no idea what he was doing was even wrong.

I was a victim of severe bullying as a child, so I might be biased.

But now I just want the fucker to die, die, die. Mo mercy for bullies. They show none of us. We will show none to them.

There is no way a bully can be elected President.

And sure, that was a long long time ago, but I do not care.

Die in flames, you bastard.

From The News

Tonight, continuing the non-introspective streak for an unprecedented two in a row, I will be discussing two interesting items from the news in order to warm up for tomorrow’s regular Friday science jag.

It does me a lot of good to get over myself get away from myself for a few days and let my introspective muscles rest for a while. Too much of that, and you lose all sense of perspective and proportion, and that is literally the worst thing in the world.

Well, enough introductory palaver. Time to get on with the news items!

First one : I just love the word “palaver”.

But coming in a close second….

Catholicism Remembers Compassion

I have a lot of problems with the Catholic church. Things like protecting pederast priests, living in golden palaces filled with priceless works of art while billions starve, and worst of all, their entirely nonsensical and extremely counterproductive opposition to contraception are just the tip of the proverbial iceberg. I cannot decide whether they are a net force of good in the world, or evil. There are just too many variables.

And complicating the issue even further is when a story like this one about the Vatican condemning the Paul Ryan budget in the USA comes along and shows that despite their appearance of unrelenting and hopelessly antique and backwards evil, the Vatican does do a decent thing now and then.

Here is a clip :

“Affordable housing programs have not been protected in various budget and deficit agreements, and as a result many families are at further risk of being pushed into poverty,” said one letter, written by the Rev. Stephen Blaire, the bishop of Stockton, Calif. “We urge you to draw a circle of protection around the programs that serve ‘the least among us.’ ”

And that is exactly why I can never entirely condemn the Catholic church. Not just because they do this sort of thing (in this case, via the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops) but because they seem to be the only one of the large Christian sects which remembers Christ’s actual teachings about helping the poor and being compassionate.

At the very least, they remember to pay lip service to it. Eric Ryan claims to be Catholic and that his Catholic faith “informed” his budget, but it would seem the Church does not agree. All reports say that is a distinctly cold hearted budget, which ignores the true financial score in favour of just cutting all the things social conservatives do not like regardless of how much that will save versus how much misery it will cause.

It is good that the Catholic Church seems to at least faintly remember that Christ said to sell all you own and give it to the poor, and that nobody who calls themselves any kind of Christian can possibly spew hatred of the poor when their Savior, the one their entire religion is supposedly about, taught them to love their neighbor and give of themselves freely.

And even to render unto Caesar that which is Caesar’s. You know, taxes?

Making Homelessness Illegal

And speaking of massive right wing abuse of the poor, how about the laws passed in Hungary recently making it illegal to be homeless?

That is the effect, anyhow. Technically, the set of laws in question merely make it a crime to habitually reside in a public place or to store belongings there. And we all know that without laws like these, everybody would do that all the time, right?

Wrong. This is the result of a concentrated two year campaign to make homelessness illegal, presumably driven by the kind of people who, out of sheer moral laziness, think homeless people, like all poor people, are just lazy, and could change their position in life any time they wanted to do so.

That is a classic response from the morally bankrupt who will gladly believe absolutely anything that gets them out of having to care about someone who is not themselves. They are doing well, so the world must be fair, and they got where they are via the prime empty virtue of our modern world, hard work (funny how many supposed rugged individualists still want a pant on the head and a dog treat for being good little worker drones), ergo anyone not doing as well must not be working hard to the exact degree they are less successful.

Ergo, homeless people must be the laziest people in the world. Anything else would mean caring! And even worse… maybe actually doing something, or… the worst thing of all… SHARING.

And sharing means you have less stuff, and if you have less stuff you are more poor, and if you are more poor that means you lose social status in the incredibly minutely competitive world of the middle class, and losing social status is, to middle class people, worse than death.

So clearly, this sort of thing is reprehensible. But to me, the irony of it all is that the next result is clearly just going to be a lot of homeless people into jail, where they will be inside where it is warm and out of the elements, and getting three meals a day plus free medical care, and guards to protect them from other prisoners somewhat….

… in other words, it will improve their lives immensely by turning all prisons into really, really expensive homeless shelters.

So apparently, these people would prefer to spend far more money (homeless shelters are way cheaper than prisons) in order to satisfy their puny punitive reptile brains that they are cracking down on the problem, rather than risk seeming even faintly compassionate (higher brain functions pain them so) by just increasing the number of homeless shelter beds and thus solving the problem more cheaply, more humanely, and more practically.

Well, that is all the rant I have in me tonight. I had forgotten how exhausting it can be to have opinions. No wonder I got out of the habit.

The Most Hated Man In The World

After yesterday’s big emotional roundabout, I am once again bored with talking about myself, so I thought it was time I did something other than root around in my navel lint looking for gold, and actually talk something outside my head for a change.

No doubt this too shall pass, and I will revert to form and go back to sorting my entrails soon enough. But for today, we will be discussing some interesting news items I have come across recently.

I hope the sudden shock does not cause any of you undue stress or anxiety.

Now let’s continue.


With the recent centennial anniversary of the sinking of the Titanic, there has been a flurry of media and public interest in this most famous of all disasters at sea.

Much of this has just been the repeating of facts already well known. But recently I came across this fascinating article about J. Bruce Ismay and how, as a result of the Titanic disaster, he became, for a time, the most hated man in the world.

Ismay was the chairman of the White Star Line, the company that built the Titanic, and was on board the night she struck an iceberg and sank.

But building the doomed ship was not the crime for which he was pilloried. It was getting on the initial (scant) lifeboat launch with all the women and children that was the nail upon which he was hung in the press and in the court of public opinion.

To further compound the matter, it became clear that he had been responsible for the Titanic’s excessive speed (he controlled the often vilified captain of the ship), and, most crucially and damningly, his decision to reduce the number of lifeboats on the vessel far below the number necessary to carry all the ship’s passengers to safety because he “didn’t want the decks to look too cluttered”.

Well, the ship was unsinkable, so really, why have any at all? Just to make it look more like a ship to the passengers, presumably. After all, you expect to see lifeboats on the deck of a ship, right?

To finally cement his position as public pariah, he refused to talk about his experience on that fateful April night and absolutely refused to take any responsibility for it whatsoever, even to the point of claiming he was on board as an ordinary passenger and had no idea why Captain Smith handed him an ice danger warning shortly before the disaster.

As a result, he got hate mail, he got blackballed from his club, a close friend turned him away at the door, and he lived the remaining 25 years of his life as a shadow of his former self, reclusive, nervous, depressed, and plagued by such horrific nightmares that his screams woke the whole household.

Granted, he was still a rich man. But he was not a happy man, and what else is money for?

I find the story fascinating because it is such a pure personal tragedy to come from the much larger tragedy that is the story of the Titanic. The fact that Ismay went from being one of the most rich and powerful men in the world to a shattered and crippled figure living out his days in misery makes him a highly tragic, though not sympathetic, character.

And all for basically acting exactly like any other rich person who was used to being treated like he was far, far, far more important than anyone else and so he just did what came naturally to such a person. He put himself first.

I think anyone can see by his psychological reaction, especially the nightmares, that despite what he said, he felt incredibly guilty over the entire thing and that this guilt, plus the shock of his sudden reversal of position in the world, were simply far more than he could handle. He could not face it either publicly, privately, or in his own mind. And so for the rest of his life, he was a man living the fragile existence of a soul incapable of facing a terrible, terrible truth.

And it is this profound lack of character that makes him a tragic figure to me. He is a man who failed the test of history and hence became a pariah and a nervous wreck. This is both tragic in the literary sense, and just. Inasmuch as the Titanic disaster was any one person’s fault, it was his, and his failure to take even the pro forma “the buck stops here” responsibility of any leader, let alone any shred of personal responsibility, quite rightfully made him a detested figure in his own life, and will insure his place in the history books as a coward and a failure and a victim of that most classically tragic of attributes, hubris.

And you can see how this sort of thing might happen. I have written before on the corrupting and indeed infantalizing effect of wealth and power, and how there is genetic social programming that emerges from the human psyche when one becomes socially dominant that is entirely unknown to the common citizen who lives in a state of relative social hierarchical equality with his or her peers.

To me, it seems clear that the tragedy suddenly placed an enormous burden of conscience on a man who had grown quite used to the sort of complete lack of accountability available only to those at the very top of their respective heaps. He went from socially dominant to the bottom of the heap, the pariah, the leper, the criminal in all but law, so fast and so unexpectedly that his enfeebled character simply could not take it and as a consequence, he made his situation far worse by refusing to face it, therefore failing one of the most basic tests of human leadership and the chain of command, and thereby condemning himself to that very special circle of social hell reserved exclusively for our failed and disgraced former leaders.

The sheep have no mercy for the shepherd who throws down his crook and runs away.

More wacky news stories

Got a bunch of wild, weird, and wacky news items from the wide wide world to share with you, my beloved select few, the proud readers of this humble yet frankly amazing blog.

These are the sorts of news stories that make me happy, because they illustrate just what a wonderfully diverse, colorful, and magnificently absurd world we live in. It’s the perfect antidote for the holiday blahs when the world is seeming just a little too Normal Rockwell and we need a good dose of the downright strange to remind us that normal is a myth and everyone is normal till you get to know them.

Take this story from Russia about what has to be the most adorable cult ever.

What makes them so adorable? The fact that they don’t worship God, Allah, Vishnu, Satan, or Thor. They don’t worship The Goddess, The Buddha, or The Reverend Sun Yung Moon. They don’t even worship celebrities like most of the world does.

No, they worship this fine lady here.

Yes. It's a cartoon mouse.

Her name is Gadget Hackwrench and she is a character from the nineties Disney Afternoon show, Chip and Dale’s Rescue Rangers. And they adore her in the religious sense.

I, for one, am not surprised. While I never watched the show very often when it was on, I am familiar enough with it that I know Gadget was a warm, kindhearted, bossy lady who loved building and fixing things and technology of all kinds.

In other words, she was the perfect geek girlfriend. So what if she was a three inch tail cartoon mouse and hence entirely and completely fictional? For blossoming adolescent geeks, those are minor factors, easily overcome by their fevered imaginations.

So I imagine there are quite a few straight male geeks (and a few les-bi female geeks) who have quite a crush on this fictional cartoon character.

This is what happens when hormones and cartoons collide, folks. Well, that and Rule 34.

Then, just in time for Christmas, we have this touching, heartwarming story about a dear sweet little 81 year old Latina grandmother who scated the shit out of a pair of criminals who attacked her daughter.

The two, Josefa Lopez and her daughter, 61 year old Teresa Medina, were just leaving the house in their Ford Expedition when the criminal scumbag in question attacked Teresa, pulling her out of her vehicle and pistol whipping her. This led to Josefa, who thought her daughter might be dead, fending them off with her aluminum walking cane and shouting “I’m gonna kill you, you son of a bitch!”

The two criminals are still at large, and I dearly hope they get caught. Not just because they are clearly utter shitbags who beat up little old ladies and deserve the full measure of justice our legal system and vigorous prison rape can dole out to them.

But because I really want them to go to jail with everyone knowing they got scared off by an 81 year old granny. That would just be the cherry on the sundae of “secondary justice” they will receive in jail. Because even hardened criminals might have a thing or two to day about people who beat up old ladies, let alone ones who beat up and then are scared off by said old ladies.

Then there is the epic story about how one suburban parent became known, in select circles, as “penis mom”.

Here is the gist of it : Karen Mangiacotti got an email from her 13 year old boy’s teacher asking for help from Dads doing the lifting for a school project.

She was rather incensed by this clearly sexist request. What, mothers can’t lift? So she replied thusly :

Dear teachers and parents:

Are you guys seriously only asking for Dads?

Is lifting done with a penis?

Thoughtfully yours,

– Karen

And this is the message that went out to all the recipients of the original email, namely, the teacher and all the other parents who had children in her class.

This set off quite the little firestorm, with the original point about not being sexist totally lost as people freaked out over the use of the word “penis” in an email that only went to other adults.

Personally, I think she overreacted a little to the whole issue about asking “Dads” to help out. She has a legitimate beef but she didn’t need to state it how she did.

But come on, people. It’s just a word! Half the mammals of the world have one! Get over it!

Having saved the best for last, I now present you with a story whose utter delightfulness can be succinctly summated with two glorious words : Ninja Cow.

Seems some folks in Nebraska were being plagued by a true mastermind of a cow who eluded capture for quite some time. leading the locals to dub the baffling bovine Ninja Cow.

And of course, the more she eluded capture, the more people loved her story. You have to admit, there is something very Far Side wonderful about a wily cow who moves through the night like a shadow, appearing only briefly on people’s lawns, and leaving behind her trademark : no, sadly, not a C carved into the sod with a rapier. Just a cow poop.

The local sheriff refused to bring firearms into the issue, which shows he is an astute judge of the mood of the people, and eventually (I kid (calf?) you not) hired contractors to bring in the dangerous free roving bovine.

Eventually, by getting their hands on Ninja Cow’s calf (her one weakness!), they were able to bring her safely to justice, where, after a brief period of trying to escape by headbutting the fence, she seems to have settled down into peaceful captivity with her calf.

Or at least, that’s what she wants them to think.

There is really only one clip to finish off a story like that. Well, a couple, but I am going with this one :

Seeya later, readers!

Today in Weird

Once more I find myself sans any better ideas than the usual flotsam today, so I figure it’s time for a newsy post like I used to do before NaNoWriMo. But none of that Friday Science Roundup crap. That got real old real fast.

Luckily, I got some weird ass news stories to share off my Twitter feed today. So hold on to your asses, for they are about to get weird. (Not in a bad way. I am just continuing the metaphor because it seems like the thing to do. Don’t put on your oldest clothes and put a cot next to the bathroom door or nothin’. )

First up, we have this review of the extremely weird Christmas themed horror movie Rare Exports.

Now of course, this is not the first ever Christmas themed horror film. For instance, there is the Silent Night, Deadly Night series of psycho killer horror films, the fourth installation of which gave us the legendary epic Internet meme of Garbage Day.

I have seen that clip a million times, and yet I am still taken by it arresting and wonderful absurdity. It is downright compelling viewing. Given how generally terrible every other scene in all four of the movies of the series is, I can only assume that this one sequence is some kind of magnificent fluke, where all the forces of crappy low-budget no-talent Canadian film making somehow, spontaneously, for 21 magical seconds, crystallized into one of those moments where the ridiculous becomes the sublime.

It’s like rolling a natural Yahtzee on your first roll, or getting a completely fluke hole-in-one. One of those rare moments of perfect order emerging from chaos that demands a moment of respect and awe of the audience.

Anyhow, back to Rare Imports. Apparently, in this Finnish film (the Finns are a weird people), the story is that Santa Claus is actually a malevolent entity that terrorized rural Finland until the people there lured it into a frozen lake and buried it there.

And there it stayed, until that perennial instigator of horror plots, the archeologist, had to go dig it up.

(Seriously, one of my own hardcore rules for surviving being in a horror film is “stay the fuck away from archeologists and archeology in general. That’s always where the shit starts. Also, leave all old things alone. In horror, old = evil. )

So basically, the Finns made a Santa Claus horror film based on one of their own weird old pagan myths, the myth of Joulupukki the Yule Goat. That’s kinda weird.

But even weirder, and far creepier in my books, is this article about how we may be able to soon ‘resurrect’ the voices of dead singers via electronic voice synthesis.

Yamaha has had “vocaloid” technology for a while now, where you can type in words and have the computer sing them however you like. So it makes sense that this would be the logical next step to that. Why stop at creating new voices when you might just have enough sophistication in the technology now to mimic the singing style and voice of Elvis, Usher, or Vera Lynn?

So when I read the story, I was immediately struck by a feel of “Of course!”. It makes total sense that this would be what came next. But at the same time, I was struck by a visceral sense of disgust. Making the dead sing again is just plain ghoulish. And I doubt I am the only one. I suspect that this technology will receive the same sort of horrified reaction as that infamous commercial where Fred Astaire danced with a vacuum cleaner.

There is a difference between what the technology allows us to do, and what is actually worth doing, and when you start seriously treading on Uncanny Valley territory, and nothing quite screams Uncanny Valley like messing with people’s ideas of who is dead and who is not.

Also, and this really bothers me, if they can imitate someone’s singing voice, how long before they can do the same with someone’s speaking voice? And why limit it to dead people? Imagine the chaos possible with faking the voice of a living person. We recognize each other by voice on a very deep emotional level. Identity theft via vocal imitation might be the least of the problems.

Finally, to really max out our weirdness factor, and to one more prove that, despite what we might think, it really is still possible to do something to shock, horrify, and fascinate people, we have this charming story about how two Danish television hosts decided to taste each other’s flesh.

Bet that got your attention. No, they did not turn into zombies and feast on each other’s gooey brain matter. They just had little bits of flesh removes from their bodies, got a chef to fry the pieces up in some sunflower oil, and chowed down.

According to the duo, “We didn’t add any salt or pepper because we wanted to know what it tasted like.”

Well then you shouldn’t have used sunflower oil, you weird and unwholesome men. Sunflower oil is a flavour-adding oil. If you had wanted to taste it without added flavour, you should have used canola.

Also, I hate to break it to you guys, but you went under the knife for no reason. With modern tissue engineering, it would have been perfectly possible to just scrape off a few dead skin cells from each of you, then use them to cultivate as large a piece of your flesh as you want.

You could have had whole steaks of each other without ever going near a surgeon. Not that I am recommending that, of course, but still. Just so ya know.

Well, that’s it for today’s look into the weird, the gruesome, the disturbing, and the macabre. Tune in next time, whenever the hell that will be. How would I know? I’m not a mind reader!

Don’t ask me, folks, I ain’t in charge. I just work here.