Shotgun fulla links

Finished my Vcon 38 report, and man are those fun to write. Is there some way to do that kind of thing for a living? Just go to events, write down the basics of what you did there, plus whatever else pops into you head at the time, and then go home, write a report, and make moolah?

It sounds sort of like journalism, but a very soft kind of journalism. And it’s also comedy and warmth, and those are two things I do well.

I resisted doing con reports for a long long time because it seemed like it would be so much work, trying to summarize everything that is happening.

But you don’t have to do that. That’s reportage. Me, I do something else.

Anyhow, now that I am done with the con report, it’s time to clear my browser of all the links I have accumulated while doing science and con reporting.

Like this very funny list of actual tourist complaints that are completely and hilariously insane.

Here’s my three faves.

12. “It took us nine hours to fly home from Jamaica to England. It took the Americans only three hours to get home. This seems unfair.”

How thoughtless of us. Next time you fly to Jamaica, we will have invented an entirely new and revolutionary form of transportation that gets you from England to Jamaica in three hours… and we won’t like Americans use it.

14. “The brochure stated: ‘No hairdressers at the resort’. We’re trainee hairdressers and we think they knew and made us wait longer for service.”

You got us. We hate hairdressers. I’m surprised we let you leave the hotel alive, you future hairdressing monster. I’ll have the reprimand the assassins.

19. “My fiance and I requested twin-beds when we booked, but instead we were placed in a room with a king bed. We now hold you responsible and want to be re-reimbursed for the fact that I became pregnant. This would not have happened if you had put us in the room that we booked.”

Three things. One, twin beds is two words, not one. Two, you can’t be re-reimbursed. It’s logically impossible. Either you have been reimbursed, or you haven’t. It can’t happen twice. And lastly, I sincerely hope you plan to sue us about this. Whatever it ends up costing us will be worth it to hear you explain your case out loud to a judge. And judges have tough jobs. They need a good laugh now and then.

Then we have this awesome Six Flags commercial I had completely forgotten.

I mean, how can you not love seeing a clearly fake old guy dance the dance of ultimate joy? I think the real credit for the awesomeness of that ad goes to the dancer and/or the choreographer.

It’s like he’s dancing as much as is humanly possible. He’s at Maximum Dance. You can’t dance more than that.

Also, I think a free bus that cruises residential neighborhoods looking for people who want to go to your amusement part would be a brilliant marketing strategy.

It would make it all seem just a little bit magical.

Then there’s this firm and authoritative commentary on the American shutdown crisis from someone who, like Jesus, Republicans claim to admire.

Of course, like Jesus, they prefer the imaginary version in their heads who just endorses everything they do to the one that might actually tell them that they are vile evil anti-Christian scumbags.

Real Reagan would have been absolutely horrified at the way the USA has gone in the last decade or so. He was a reasonable moderate who had no idea that his statement about “government IS the problem” would unleash a wave of sheer barbarity upon the nation he loved.

Come to think of it, I’m pretty fond of it too.

Now we have the Most Awesome Escalator Ever.

Except you just know there will be a cluster of people at the bottom just reading it.

Except you just know there will be a cluster of people at the bottom just reading it.

Wherever they did this, for whatever reason, you rock. It’s a simple yet brilliant idea. It could not have been easy taking the original text and chopping up into stair-sized bits, let alone getting the font right.

Because that’s the thing about doing things for nerds. We’re a very picky bunch. You have to get it right or we will turn up our fannish noses at it.

Then we have this website that wants you to pitch in and Save The Pacific Northwest Tree Octopus.

The site is filled with the kind of dry humour that I love. Like this :

Like this gem :

What percentage of profit from Tree Octopus products sold on this site goes to support protecting the species?

None.

Tree Octopuses don’t need your money. They need your love and willingness to write angry letters to the editor demanding action.

I heartily recommend reading the whole site. It’s simply marvelous.

Then there’s this “prank” :

To me, that is obviously fake. Everything came off too perfectly for it to be a real interaction with some random chick. So, shenanigans on that.

Still, this will no doubt stir up a lot of lively and productive debate online.

And of course, we have my little ol video of the day.

The song is okay but no big deal, so I decided today was the day I investigate my video editing program’s ability to import animated GIFs.

And it works okay. Not great, but okay. Some animated GIFs, it imports the first frame and that’s it. Others, it imports the whole thing but the video goes way out of whack.

Like this one, which I must include here because it got gibbled when I tried to import it.

Cats. They're wacky.

Cats. They’re wacky.

For those of you who don’t speak Cat, the other cat is not being evil. That is just a cat’s way of saying “tag! You’re it! Come play with me!”.

Ditto with people who complain about their “psycho” cat “attacking” them for “no reason”. If your cat does that, odds are that the cat is simply bored and trying to get you to play with him or her.

It’s just treating you like you were another cat.

Play with your cat more, or ideally, get it the ultimate cat toy : another cat!

Trust me, they can entertain one another all day.

Interpretive Lyrics : Funderstrug

I did another silly lyrics thing.

This time I took on another hard to understand (but kickass) song, Thunderstruck by AC/DC

I didn’t do the whole song because after the point where I ended, the song gets pretty repetitive, and I made the decision that, while there ARE new lyrics in that part of the song, viewers would not enjoy the large amount of instrumentals and repetition it took to get there.

Plus, really, you get the idea.

Friday Night Special : WHSFB

Aaaand it’s another piece of music.

I am quite pleased with how that piece turned out. Best thing I’ve done since The Funky Duck.

I guess if I just keep making music, even if none of it is making me happy, eventually I will make good music that DOES make me happy.

Mentally I know that’s how it works, but I guess my heart needs some convincing.

Practice makes perfect, dammit!

A woman like her

There’s a word for women like this one.

And that word is “holy”.

That might sound like an odd word coming from an atheist like me. I don’t believe in God, or even gods, so how can I declare something to be holy?

But that would be missing the point. I am not a theist but I have a very strong spiritual belief in humanism and the humanist endeavor, and all that Jesus, as represented in the Bible, was actually talking about.

I just don’t need to believe someone was the Son of God to be onto something.

And so by my deeply spiritual humanism, Mama Hill is a holy woman. She doesn’t just give love, she lives love. Every day and in every way, she embodies my ideal of holiness by being someone who spends every waking moment filling the world with as much love as she possibly can, and has truly given herself over to the holiest of pleasures, the pleasure that comes from loving and helping others.

This is not just the most moral of pleasures, but the purest, strongest, and highest pleasure there is. I envy her and her spiritual strength and dedication. She is my spiritual ideal. If I had to describe my desired destination in my spiritual journey through life, I would just say “Mama Hill”.

She lives in a state of grace. I can only imagine what joy and serenity there must be in that. She has found the joy of abandoning self not out of self-denigration or self-denial, but simply because it was getting in the way of her true happiness.

And she is clearly someone who does not belief the corrosive and destructive lie that you can “spoil” a child by loving them too much. She does not believe in withholding love for any reason. It is never justified. Children must know that they will always be loved, no matter what, and without limit.

That does not mean letting kids do whatever the hell they want. Discipline is part of love, and if discipline is pursued with love, not anger, then it cannot go wrong.

Children might not enjoy the act of discipline. They will quite likely try to avoid the consequences of their actions. They might even curse your name and tell you that you are the worst parent in the world.

But they will be far, far happier in a world with limits, structure, and authority. They will feel secure and calm in a world where there is someone to watch over them and warn them away from harm. The world of a child is frightening and strange. They understand so little of the world they live in.

Thus, they are greatly comforted by the thought of not having to face the great unknown alone.

Her life is pretty much my ideal life, although I would be collecting and helping broken people, misfits and losers and marginalized minorities and such, rather than children of broken homes.

Other than that, though, that is how I would like to live my life. Provide a safe haven for those people who, for whatever reason and by whatever means, did not turn out right and hence are not healthy or whole enough to go out there and cope with the world like a normal person could.

I would be very fulfilled if I could provide those people a place where they can feel loved, valued, and accepted. No religion required, just a dedication to being there for people when and how they need you.

In a sense, it seems like religion is a long and complicated detour on the road to true humanism. Part of me wishes people would just skip the Jesus worship and concentrate on what He actually said, and spare themselves a lot of confusions and angst caused by getting it all tied up with superstition, priests, and the Old Testament.

But I suppose that people have to find their own path to spiritual enlightenment, and my path is not the only one by far. I recognize the symbol value of the idea of God. Apart from its value in keeping as adults also feeling like we are not alone and there is someone out there looking over them, God (or Jesus) represents the highest human ideals and gives people something to strive towards.

It just saddens me to see people who profess a love of Christ but endorse a worldview diametrically opposed to everything the Biblical Jesus taught.

I mean, what’s a messiah to do? How thorough and precise does a holy teacher have to be in order to make it crystal clear what you are talking about and what sorts of things will never, ever, ever be allowed.

Like I say in this comic strip I did ages ago…

It's not what religion causes. It's what it fails to stop.

It’s not what religion causes. It’s what it fails to stop.

… I would be one paranoid Messiah. Given how hard Jesus tried to get His message across, only to have it pretty much completely ignored, in part or in whole, by absolutely everybody who claims to believe in Him, I really do wonder how the hell you can successfully get the whole humanist ideal across to people.

It’s not complicated. Love one another. Be good to one another. Look out for one another. Pick each other up when you fall. Love your fellow humans precisely because of your shared humanity.

I keep picturing either this vast and incomprehensible legalistic document that covers every possible excuse someone might have for doing or being evil, or maybe some vast interactive flowchart type app that does more or less the same thing but in a more user-friendly mode.

But of course, that won’t work either, because no matter how thorough you are, the majority of people will find it to be too complicated and/or too much work to learn and use such a cumbersome belief system, and you might as well have just made a million Happy Face buttons instead.

Maybe Mama Hill knows.

See, I remember where I started!

I’m so indie that my shirt don’t fit

More random titles from the songs playing in my head.

Today’s been decent. Did therapy. That went pretty well. When I mentioned that I want to go someplace where there is lively philosophical discussion, my therapist suggested that I look up the local Philosopher’s Cafe action, so I have done so.

There seems to be a number of them. The one here in Richmond, according to my doc, takes place entirely in Russian, which does not surprise me. Russians have a much better attitude towards philosophers, and intellectuals in general, than we here in the Stupid Lands, and there is a very large Russian population here.

Heck, the apartment complex I live in is half Russian. So while it sucks that there might not be one of those events near me that I could actually participate in, I am not surprised that it was the Russians who had the motivation to start one and keep it going.

Russia has a long history with coffee-house intellectuals.

There seems to have been a series of them out of Kwantlen College, which is also here in Richmond, but the latest info I can get on them is a schedule for Spring 2013.

Close, but not close enough.

Still, I will try to email the organizer and see if they are still going.

Here’s a feel-good story for your edification and illumination :

What a great bunch of kids! How many kids would even think of making up their own holiday? And I love how they sort of diss Mother’s Day and Father’s Day by saying “They get this extra day besides their birthdays, why don’t we?” Because they are raising you, kiddo, but I don’t expect you to understand that yet.

Of course, along with everyone else who watches that video and has a heart (not so fast, Republicans!), I hope the boys keep right on celebrating Brother’s Day until they are old and grey.

Also in the heartwarming category, we have a completely adorable white lion kitten who is working on her roar.

The stuttered sound. The fluffy white fur. The helplessness. It really makes it seem like someone crossed a lion with a sheep.

So THAT’s what happens when the lion lies down with the lamb.

I have a real weakness for squeaky little kitten mews, and the petite lioness’ vocalizations technically qualify, but are a tad more disturbing than most.

I have my budget for Vcon more or less worked out in my head. It’s good that it’s a little later in the month than I had anticipated, because I will only have to cover two weeks post-Vcon before my next check.

So I have around $233 to my name right now. Take out $60 for registration and that leaves $173. I have budgeted #100 for 5 meals of $20 each, and that should cover supper Friday night, and lunch and supper on Saturday and Sunday. Breakfasts I can skip, improvise, or cadge off of Hospitality.

That will leave me with around seventy dollars to see me through two weeks, which will be tight but it should be manageable as long as I keep a tight grip on the purse-strings.

Here’s a fun news story : optometrist tests female patient’s eyes by masturbating.

Doctor Emmett Deck the Third (what pride he had bought to his father and grandfather’s legacies) was fitting a 33 year old woman for new contact lenses when he suddenly invited her into his “private office”.

Alias his actual private office. Whereupon he proceeded to “polish his lenses”… alias spank it, alias shaking hands with the bishop, alias masturbate his privates.

The story does not say how old ol’ Triple Decker is, but my guess is that he’s between the ages of 45 and 55, and has led a perfectly normal, strait-laced, family-oriented, pillar of the community life until now.

But there is just something that happens to men of that age bracket that makes some of them develop a runaway libido that sweeps all common sense and rational self-interest out of the window and makes them a slave to the “Little Head” over the big one.

A lifetime of repression and always doing the right thing and being the right kind of man suddenly boils over, and they do something like go and have an affair, lead a double life, get smacked down for sexual harassment because they keep playing grabass with their staff, or even, in this dude’s case, just plain whip it out and jumpstart it right in front of someone.

My theory is that the really crazy stuff like Doctor Sausage Slapper up there comes from the really repressed types with very little sexual experience outside a very vanilla marriage and so they just plain do not know what to do with these feelings, and so they just keep on repressing them until the dam bursts and it’s your face next to a headline about your staff complaining about how much you lick them.

But I guess it’s not a surprise that so many men want to show off their thang.

After all, it’s worth a million bucks.

I won’t bother getting all frothingly angry over that. Take it as read that I am super pissed about such blatant inequity. Especially when there are far more single mothers (not by choice) than single dads.

I like the style they did the PSA in, though. I am not usually keen on the cutouts and markers style, but these folks did it with a good eye for visual presentation and really made it work.

Oh right. And, yet another song.

Still not the powerful kickass no-hole-barred heavy techno stuff that I keep failing to create, but still a pretty cool little bit of music, in my humble if not downright self-effacing opinion.

Someday, I will unlock the secret of how to make the kind of ass kicking music that I dream of. The kind of thing that blends the tools of sample based music with the style of things like heavy metal and industrial.

Stuff like that awesome Mortal Kombat theme. But more modern.

Some day, Gadget. Some day!

Beating back the flames

This Facebook shit has gotten completely out of hand.

I spend three to four hours a day just keeping up with it. Just between I Fucking Love Science, Upworthy, and Cracked.com I get enough genuinely interesting and cool linked to choke a subReddit. Add in various cool famous people and all the things and people I have “Liked” without realizing that that gave them permission to spam me whenever they felt like it, then add in all the stuff from people I have “Friended” purely to get ahead in Facebook, and then add the cherry on the top of his spam sundae that is the people I actually know and care about and want to hear from every day.

And sure, that’s where I get the groovy links I share with all you nice people, but it is seriously beginning to wear me down. Checking Facebook is starting to feel more like a job than a leisure activity, and I am not even getting paid to do it.

And yet, I can’t seem to stop myself. There is just so much stuff out there that I want to see. My insatiable brain simply cannot resist gorging itself on the never-ending mind buffet that is the Internet and it is, as usual, oblivious to the toll it is taking on the rest of me as it runs pell-mell over rocks and brambles and streams at the speed of thought.

I could save myself a whole lot of trouble if I could just choose one of my news feeds to delete, but I can’t stand the thought of what I know I will be missing.

It is official. There is too much cool stuff on the Internet. Please delete half. I am NOT a crackpot.

Like check out this awesome article about slang from the Roaring Twenties.

This stuff is great! The 20’s were so snappy and witty, at least as seen from nearly a century later. It seems like it would have been a great time to be funny and quick with a smart mouth and a big brain.

I mean, take this one : telling someone to quit making out by saying “Hey you lovebirds, the bank’s closed!”

Or for the truly mindboggling, it says that in the 20’s, a “bimbo” was a macho macho man. I am dying to know hopw the hell it got turned into meaning pretty much the exact opposite by the time it got to us. I can’t help but think homosexuality is somehow involved. Some men started having “bimbo” companions who were muscular pretty boys or “rough trade” types, and the term became associated with them, and eventually to any companion of a certain type of macho man, then just the ladies.

Think about it. For a time, bimbo and mimbo meant the same thing!

And speaking of vintage homosexuality, apparently for some of the 20’s. being a “cake-eater” meant being gay. What, real men eat pie? What is it with straight guys associating women with pie, anyhow? Is this a Oedipal thing? Or is it just because pies are round?

Or saying “Excuse me, I gotta go iron my shoelaces” to tell people you are going to the bathroom. That’s hilarious! It has that right combination of cockiness and absurdity that makes for sizzling hot language. Very high context stuff, too. Implicit in talking like that is that only people as hip and with-it as you are will understand it and so it becomes a badge of community.

Now how could I pass on the opportunity to learn boffo berries hotsy-totsy stuff like that?

Hell, Facebook has taken over so much that I almost never check Livejournal or Tumblr, and Twitter? Forget it. Twitter might as well be happening in another dimension.

It’s the same old story. I have trouble choosing between things I like. I have a real issue with the murdering of my darlings, with picking what to focus on, what is important, what I truly care about, what I really want.

So I tend to leave all my options open so I am free to move in any direction in response to danger. And that is great if all you have to do is react.

But it is terrible for action. It makes decisiveness nearly impossible and ennui and lassitude inevitable. If you are lucky to have life momentum, if you are caught up in the stream of things and therefore don’t have to provide all your own thrust, then merely steering your craft is enough to keep you moving ever forward.

And that is enough for most people. They are only dimly aware of just how much of their life’s motion has not been their own. Things just seem to happen, one after another, and before they know it, they are so deep in the everyday work of life, career, friends, family, and church that they are only required to make a decision one in a very great while and for the most part, just do the next thing.

But when you are stuck in the doldrums like I am, there is no “next thing”. There is no wind for your sails, no white water to ride, not even a star to steer by. It’s nothing but possibility as far as the eye can see.

And that’s what you wanted, right? Unlimited range of motion? Able to master circumstance by being ready for anything at any time? Never be the rabbit with only one escape plan?

But if nothing ever happens, if indeed you have made it nearly impossible for anything to happen by paddling frantically into this puddle and cowering there for decades with your hands over your ears, trying to block out the roaring of the river and the crashing of the waves… if you have done all that, then what is there to react to? You have optimized for something that you have made sure will never happen.

It’s sad the things we do to ourselves in order to feel safe,

Up The Hill

I’m feeling better these days. I think finally getting actual therapy on Friday helped enormously. I wasn’t sure whether my recent blues were due to the lowered Paxil dose or whether it was lack of therapy, but therapy made me feel a million times better, so I am willing to say that was the dominant contributing factor.

I’m not sleeping so much either. I still have a bed addiction that needs to be dealt with, but the need for sleep is decreasing on its own and I am finding more pleasure in the little things, like making music, and that is all for the good in the end.

No more fast-forwarding through life!

You know what also makes me feel good? This video.

Yes! Yes yes yes, a million times, yes. THIS. I am so glad there is a backlash against this Princess-ification of little girls and against the strange way our society has of knocking the interest in science, math, and engineering out of girls starting in their tween years.

The statistics are as stark as they are damning. Up to the threshold of puberty, boys and girls rate their own interest in science and math at around the same rate.

But by the time they get to high school, the girls’ interest in science and math has dropped by more than half.

Clearly something is wrong. The world needs all the scientists it can get if it’s going to survive the century, and we can’t afford to be drawing from only half of the gene pool, not to mention only one gender’s perspective.

Another happy-making thing : This essay by Michael Enright of the CBC about whiny atheists.

It’s a great essay, but I have to deal with this first or I’ll burst : What the fuck is Enright wearing? Was he dressed by Munchkins? Has his neck joined the Red Hat Club? Is this part of some sort of Gay(er) Les Nesman subculture that I’m not aware of? Is his Halloween costume going to be Elton John’s accountant this year?

I guess when you work in radio, you can dress however the hell you want.

OK. Got that out of my system. Now about the article itself : I see Mr. Enright is on the same page as me, and so are others re : this whole angry atheist thing.

Atheists are hardly a persecuted minority. Sure, religious bigots hate us, but I take that less of an attack and more as an endorsement. It’s not like we are being rounded up and shot or denied food and lodging. We are not even attacked in the media very much.

And every time some bunch of self-righteous dickbags raise a stink about there being a cross on government property or getting their knickers in a twist about people saying “so help me God” when they are being sworn in, it makes us look just as nuts as any Reverend Phelps or David Koresh, and makes it look like we are a bunch of shrill, shrieking, humorless, heartless cunts with nothing better to do than pee in people’s Wheaties.

Plus it supports the religious right’s absurd sense of persecution. So not worth it!

So anyhow, feel like I am going up not down lately, and that is always good. I think I just needed to unburden myself with my therapist. I don’t feel entirely light yet, but next weekend is Vcon, so that should do a lot to boost my spirits.

I always absolutely adore being at a science fiction convention. A public function where I feel totally at ease! Imagine that. I can walks amongst my people, the nerds of the world, and stuff my brain at all kinds of cool and interesting panels, and then at night, party down in geek town!

Paying for it will be a bitch, and I get moments of clutching panic about that, but what the hell.

I will manage somehow.

Oh, and speaking of stuffing your brain with info, check out this Mental Floss vid.

Man that guy is good at giving you a feast of fascinating trivia at maximum speed. I wish I had the kind of mind that collected facts like his apparently does.

I know a lot of stuff, but I don’t have the ability to collate it into a list. If I did, I would be churning out list based comedy articles a la Cracked.com every day.

Anyone out there good at lists?

And finally, I did one of my slideshow thingies.

I was originally going to do a talker and I was all set to do it, but my camera is in one of its rare bad moods where it doesn’t want to show any picture and while I could always do a talker where the video is just a still picture of me looking mentally deranged (how unlike me), it just wouldn’t be the same.

Don’t worry about the camera, by the way. A reboot will fix it. I will be on your screen talking about odd things again soon enough. I just didn’t feel like waiting for a reboot before I got to work.

When the fit is upon me, I MUST DANCE!

So instead you get one of my silly ass slideshows. There are a number of stupid mistakes in there, including me repeating myself, but by the time I figured that out it would have been an enormous pain in the sphincter to fix it so I said fuggit.

I may go in there and fix it and re-upload sometime soon, but don’t hold your breath. My particular web of neuroses makes it hard for me to go backwards even when it is clearly justified and if I don’t do it, I will end up looking like a putz.

I fire and forget, which I am sure will bite me on the ass at some point but it’s just the way I’m made.

Well, it will be time for Denny’s and conversation soon. I will see you tomorrow folks!

And THAT you can count on!

Bunch o’ stuff

Maybe that’s what I should call my linkdumps from now on. Welcome to Bunch o’Stuff, episoder 813.

First, I got three words for you :

Vintage. Victorian. Vibrators.

Yup. This is that Hysteria stuff. Curing women’s “hysteria” by a “pelvic massage” that amounts to nothing less than finger-banging them. Littlejean Jail Museum in the UK currently has am exhibition of the “ingenious” devices used to save those poor doctors from getting carpal runnel from clitflicking.

The devices uniformly look horrific and in practice they were not much better. This was well before such quaint notions as “safety standards” and “patents” and such. It was purely caveat emptor, which is particularly dangerous when both a) the purchaser is not the one it will be used on and b) you live in an era where women were not even considered people.

So these things were designed with all the warmth and care of a cattle prod.

Still, I love thinking about a time when the anti-sex people took their campaign of fear, shame, and ignorance to such a degree that people start having sex without knowing it because they have no idea what sex really is.

And at least some of the ladies got orgasms from doctors from it.

Next, a Good News/Bad News story.

The good news is, there’s a haunted house out there cool enough to let people run through it nekkid.

The bad news is, sadly, they caved to public ridicule and are not gonna go through it it.

Pennsylvania’s Shocktoberfest haunted house had already sold the tickets ($20, which is not half bad for a unique experience like that) when the word came down that the gubmint was taking out their public humiliation at the hands of the press out on these fixed attraction pioneers.

That’s too bad. Running naked through a haunted house sounds like good clean fun to me. Damn people and their weird hangups about genitals.

We all have them, dammit! Give them air!

Next we have your Holy Fuck video of the day : watch a jaguar take out a caiman.

Holy fuck…. there wasn’t even a fight! The jaguar just went CHOMP and got himself a very big meal.

A caiman is basically just a slimmer, sleeker version of a crocodile. So that is a video of a big cat versus crocodile kumite, and it wasn’t much of a match because it was over in two seconds.

I guess I always assume apex predators like jaguars and caiman avoided one another as more trouble than they are worth. So to see one take out the other with very little effort boggles my brain cells.

Guess we know who is top of the food chain there!

Next, we have an amateurish but still excellent bit of social satire from Gen Y.

Hey look, an embed!

I have a big space in my heart for these poor millennial kids, raised in prosperity, spoiled by their families, then suddenly thrust out into a world that is just plain broken.

Same thing happened with us Gen X types when we graduated college in the middle of the previous big recession in the Nineties. Guess what? Your degree is useless, your parents kicked out out of the house because there is only so long a Baby Boomer can go without reverting to primal selfishness, and the world’s attitude toward you seems to be “What, are you still here? Why?”.

But that is nothing compared to what kids today are going through. The recession is deeper, madmen and crooks run the economy, tuitions are way higher, and their helicopter parents have left them entirely unprepared to fend for themselves in a world far harsher than the one they were born in.

So sure, the acting in the above video is a tad weak and the phrasings need a bit of work, but it’s still the sort of thing that everyone needs to see.

This kids have it rough. They can have all the earnestness and pretension they wants.

Now, I am ashamed to say, we get serious.

This lady is so absolutely on the mark that I kind of want to marry her. She is the gettingest of it-getters. She knows her stuff.

I have to say, though, that I have never heard a teacher say horrible abusive things like that in my life. I am pretty sure that, at least back home on Prince Edward Island, that would get you fired real fast.

Maybe it’s a Canadian thing. Calling a student stupid in class would just be so rude.

So it saddens me greatly to see all the people in the comments saying that exact kind of thing happened to them. Before that, I held the possibility in my mind that it might not be as widespread as Doctor Brown said.

Nope. This really happens. And there can be no crime worse than a teacher bullying a child.

Don’t claim it’s for their own good. Tell me, is it working? Is the student improving? Have you even noticed? Do you even care?

Or would you prefer they didn’t, because then you’d just have to find something else to humiliate them about?

It’s bullying, and it’s made infinitely worse by the fact that it is coming from a person with great power over you against whom you can do nothing.

If I had a kid and I found out that was happening to them, it would take a lot to keep me from finding that teacher and beating the fuck out of them.

I mean, that’s the kind of thing that makes that boxing match bell go off in my head.

Finally, we have this moderately neato bit of music I did today.

Not entirely happy with it, but it’s still pretty good. Has an intro and a finale and all the instruments work well together, which is pretty amazing considering I got them all (well, all four of them) from instrument packs that were definitely NOT labeled “for making pseudo-Orientalish music”.

It’s a pleasant little ditty.

Seeya tomorrow, folks!