Kind regards

Well, it’s been quite a month, hasn’t it? Some momentous things going on that either made you break out in hives or the happy dance.

Since I’m still getting used to my wrists in splints, I’ll make this one short. I came across this from a company I follow on Twitter, and it resonated the hell out of me:

And a variant on that theme:

Listen—if someone as cynical and cranky as moi can attempt to follow these precepts, why don’t you give it a shot your own self.

Dunk or no--what's the done thing?

Well, alrighty then—for today’s Friday frolic, I’m giving you the social story of the week: the posting on Mumsnet headed, “Do you dunk your penis?”

And, no—I am not making this up.

First of all, I didn’t even know Mumsnet existed until something came across my Twitter feed. Oddly—only my blog account; the folks in Big Data, Enterprise SaaS, Social Media advice & the like appear to have missed it.

(But speaking of Big Data—evidently there was so much traffic to the thread that it crashed the Mumsnet servers. Too much of a good thing, it seems.)

Anyhow—the user named Sara Crewe described her post-sex hygiene arrangements, for herself and her partner, and then asked if anyone else didn’t do the same thing. Anyone? Anyone at all?

Because, “apparently our penis beaker is strange and not the done thing.”

Oh, yeah—Miss Manners was on local PBS radio station earlier this week, taking listeners’ calls on how to handle (um) various situations. I dearly wish someone had phoned in with this one.

Except I’d probably have driven into a tree.

Like a Sesame Street Rolling Stone

Since I’ve got a musical theme going this month, for my Friday Freak, I’m giving you Rolling Stone’s take on the top ten Sesame Street musical guests.

As you know, I’m a sucker for All Things Muppet, especially musical Muppets. I’m having a hard time choosing a favorite here. Maybe the Yo-Yo Ma one.

But it’s hard without duckies.

Oh--and his soap ISN'T funny

It’s Friday, so time for a little something different. And, you know, our antipodean brothers and sisters just take a different approach to public service announcements. Even for subjects that everyone knows aren’t amusing.

You’ll recall the video from the Victoria police laying out in pretty much words of one syllable what’ll happen if you drive drunk. (“You’ll be stuffed!”) Well, the Aussies aren’t the only ones who know how to frame the problem for the target audience.

Here’s a video from New Zealand pointing out how stupid you are when you’re high, and therefore how stupid you’re going to be behind the wheel if you try driving while loaded.

Here’s what I want to know—what does a grown man want with 12 frosty pigs?

No, wait; never mind. I think that falls into the category of TMI.

En garde, bouteille!

I have a couple of friends in Virginia who feed my need for weirdness. I met (well, “email met”) Stretch through the Pundit’s Apprentice, who was one of the mainstays of the choir I used to sing in. PA continually challenges my mental acuity and gives me opportunities to Look Stuff Up, activities I adore. Both of them occasionally send me news of the bizarre, obituaries from the Telegraph and book or film recommendations.

Today’s vignette comes courtesy of Stretch. I knew Stretch was worth cultivating when I noticed his signature line: “Omnes moritatem. Deus suos cognoscet.” I’ve only read a little about the Albigensian Crusade, as I’m not much of a medievalist, but that’s an order you don’t soon forget. (And probably one uttered by commanders for millennia, because it’s often hard to tell who’s your friend and who’s your enemy when the field of battle slops over into civilian territory.) It was given by the papal legate when asked how the soldiers were supposed to know who was a heretic and who was of the true faith when they attacked the city of Beziers. “Kill them all,” he said. “God will know his own.” These days that sort of thing would cause a firestorm on Twitter, and CNN would go ballistic; but things were different in the 13^th Century.

Anyhow—what Stretch sent around to a select few was this video from Mental Floss on saberage: how to open a bottle of Champagne with a saber. Or a kitchen knife. Or a machete.

Well, he had me at “Champagne”, so I watched it all the way through. And had a few thoughts:

They’re using Piper Sonoma, which technically is not Champagne. But I do understand why they might not want to use the good stuff. In case of Unfortunate Incidents.

It just tears my heart in two to see sparkling wine go undrunk, for any reason; which is what happens when you rip a cork out the way it’s done here. Couldn’t they at least have put a bowl under it to catch the overflow?

If that gibbering Mental Floss twit can master the technique, I think it must be fairly straightforward, once you screw your courage to the sticking place, as it were. But if so, why would they slap that “Do not try this at home” warning all over it? I thought the whole purpose of this video was to give visual instructions and demonstrations of how to do it, no? WTH?

I like the whole Zen thing of the technique being all in the follow-through. Like smashing blocks of wood with the heel of your hand, it’s all in seeing just beyond the rim. You see the blade and the cork beyond the lip of the bottle; the rest is just detail.

It occurred to me that a bayonet might work—not one of those WWII jobbers, sharp on both sides; but maybe one from the 19^th Century. As might be used on a Martini-Henry rifle. So I asked the question. Naturally, Stretch has a few:

I knew he would. (Points to anyone who can identify the rifles associated with these bayonets.)

I’m thinking that the one in the center would be pretty good—looks like it has a blunt edge, and also has a good handle for gripping.

So I’m hoping someone on the email tries sabering a bottle, and that they record it. I’d try it myself, except that I’m not allowed sharp objects. (Or flammable substances.)

Um.

XY view

Well, alrighty, then—I’ve had a couple of days focusing on women, so how about giving some attention to men? Only fair, don’t you think?

Courtesy of my BFF, just a couple of indoor and outdoor videos for your consideration.

Watch that one all the way to the end, beyond the commercial interlude.

  

And now for the outdoor view:

Always happy to present fair and balanced coverage of, you know, whatever I feel like.

Sic transit Venus

We go from one queen to another this week: today you may get a chance to view a celestial phenomenon called the Transit of Venus.

That’s when the planet Venus comes between us & the sun. Evidently not quite the experience of an eclipse, but still…

You’ll want to make the effort to see it, because it won’t come around again on the guitar until 2117. If you’re in the lower 48, it should start around 1800 EDT/1500 PDT. I’m going to try to get out to see it, although wouldn’t you know that—while we go for weeks & weeks without a cloud—it’s probably going to be overcast in the Silicon Valley.

Naturally, you shouldn’t be daft enough to stare directly into the sun. Here’s a trick that a manager of mine in the UK taught me for an eclipse that occurred while I was there: put out a white bowl of water, & you can see the shadow in it. 

It went down a treat for the eclipse; don’t know if it’ll work for this little dot-in-the-sun thing. But it's worth a try.

Beam me up

This bit of web weirdness came my way: “daguerreotypes” of Star Trek characters.

Well, of course. Why not?

But a couple of thoughts:

First: Kirk looks like he served in Winston Churchill’s regiment, the 4^th Queen’s Own Hussars:

Although he doesn’t seem to have any campaign medals.

(Okay, I don’t know from Victorian uniforms. But I can see the presence or absence of medals.)

Second—why only the original Star Trek?

Going to the birds

Here’s something to make you feel better: video of a man who rescued a baby hummingbird.

I’m kind of interested in what appears to be hummingbird chow that he’s feeding the chick from an eyedropper. I mean, it doesn’t look like sugar syrup, looks like it may have some nutritional gunk to build those flapping muscles.

Anyway—a nice change from Congress acting like petulant four-year-olds, nuclear waste seeping out of the reactor in Fukushima & the Middle East exploding in our faces (& with WMDs we sold to all parties).

Retail therapy

This just in via my BFF Leilah in Palm Springs: this Random Acts of Culture crowd brought the “Hallelujah” chorus to one of the US’s secular temples, Macy’s in Philadelphia. The Knight Foundation (may their endowment never depend on Wall Street investments) has sponsored various outbreaks of the classics around the country.

It clearly knocked the socks off the shoppers & proves that Handel is not just for the holidays.

I don’t care if you’re at work, crank your volume up to the max & let the experience envelope you.

Then hit replay.

& then email to your friends.

That screenplay in the trunk of your car...

Security maven Bruce Schneier is running his fourth annual Movie-Plot Threat Contest.

The deal is, you submit your idea for a movie about some threat to Civilization as We Know It. Schneier stipulates, “The goal here is to be outlandish but plausible, ridiculous but possible, and—if it were only true—terrifying.” The submission has to be in the form of a news story & you’re limited to 150 words.

Shouldn’t be a problem for the Twitterati.

Looks like submission is via the comments section on Schneier’s post. No material gain, just the recognition that you really have a handle on the reality of post-modernist life.

& who knows—there might be an actual film deal involved.

We can hope

I don't usually scan anything on the comics page besides Doonesbury or Dilbert, but this caught my eye.

I guess it's all those years of jokes about liberal arts graduates finding jobs involving the phrase, "Do you want fries with that?"

Anyway, thanks to Jim Unger.

Nest feathering

A friend emailed me this story about a Frederick, MD, car wash getting hit by thieves, to the tune of several thousand dollars.

I pretty much automatically run such amusements through Snopes, & this one checks out clean.

Take it as a diversion from the steady stream of AIG downers.

Ending the year

There’s a terrific tradition in Latin America that I like to invoke this time of year: burning El Año Viejo.

You make up an effigy with old clothes and in one form or another (some folks stuff with fireworks, others just straw or paper). Then you add symbols of all your angers, disappointments, frustrations, hurts and harmful associations of the year. You can do this by attaching objects (the handkerchief you used when you drank too much at the office picnic and puked; the ticket to the concert where you saw your ex with a blonde ten years younger and 20 pounds lighter than you; the physics test you tanked on), or you can just write the negatives on slips of paper.

The dummy represents El Año Viejo—the old year, with all its baggage you would be carrying forward into the new one.

Come midnight on 31st December, you light it up and burn that sucker to ashes, taking all the bad things out of your life, at least the ones from the old year. And so you're left with the good and the positive to take you into the New Year.

Entire families or groups collaborate on the event, and it’s quite the celebration.

Now me—people get nervous when they see me stuffing clothes with flammable substances or firecrackers, so what I do is write a list of everything bad from El Año Viejo. Some years it’s longer than others. (This year I may need to go to legal, two columns.) Then I burn it, abjuring all the bad stuff to stay in the past.

I’m a big believer in the power of symbol and ritual. Reducing El Año Viejo to ashes always makes me feel better—lighter, ready to face the New Year.

I share this tradition with you. Try it; you might find it one you want to keep.

Musings on the holiday

My neighbors had me over to dinner Friday night—a lovely evening with a good meal & excellent conversation with them & another couple, just as it should be.

Barbara & Jerry have lived in their own Rambler for 54 years, since it was built. They’re retired now, but still very active. Among other things, Barbara belongs to a poetry group. Friday she shared a couple she had brought to their December meeting—two poems on Christmas. The first was a child’s letter to Santa; she read it with great verve.

For the second—which had left her poetry group in utter silence—she prefaced it by reading this story (full story at http://www.stop-stoning.org/):

“4/11/2008: 13-year-old Aisha Ibrahim Duhulow was killed on Monday, 27 October 2008, by a group of 50 men who stoned her to death in a stadium in the southern port of Kismayu, Somalia in front of around 1,000 spectators. She was accused of adultery in breach of Islamic law but, her father and other sources told Amnesty International that she had in fact been raped by three men, and had attempted to report this rape to the al-Shabab militia who control Kismayo, and it was this act that resulted in her being accused of adultery and detained. None of men she accused of rape were arrested.

“Some of the Somali journalists who had reported she was 23 have told Amnesty International that this age was based upon a judgement of her age from her physical appearance.

“She was accused of adultery in breach of Islamic law but, her father and other sources told Amnesty International that she had in fact been raped by three men, and had attempted to report this rape to the al-Shabab militia who control Kismayo, and it was this act that resulted in her being accused of adultery and detained. None of men she accused of rape were arrested.

“‘This was not justice, nor was it an execution. This child suffered a horrendous death at the behest of the armed opposition groups who currently control Kismayo,’ said David Copeman, Amnesty’s International Somalia Campaigner.

“‘This killing is yet another human rights abuse committed by the combatants to the conflict in Somalia, and again demonstrates the importance of international action to investigate and document such abuses, through an International Commission of Inquiry.’”

& here’s the poem Barbara read:

“A Good Husband” by Mike Bartholomew-Biggs

I knew the Law of course –
and there seemed to be no doubt
that she’d done wrong.
Yet God knows we’re all human
and I’d no wish to break her.

I knew the Prophets too –
but you don’t expect their words
so close to home
to mix you up in matters
beyond your understanding.

So what’s the greater sin –
to dare to believe her story
or deny my dream?
Some questions will not let you
put them quietly aside.

I shall let you think about this the way Barbara did her poetry group & the dinner party. Consider it…a Christmas gift.

Music to my ears

A friend sent this to me. It’s certainly appropriate for the season’s message, & a nice change.

Crank up the volume & dance, children!

Magoo vs. Droopy

Okay, there's a round at happy hour riding on this one:

Does Rep. Barney Frank (D - Mass.) look more like Droopy Dog or Mr. Magoo?

He certainly sounds like Droopy Dog...

And now for something completely different...

While you're waiting for my next pithy analysis of this 'n that, try taking the political compass test:

http://www.politicalcompass.org/

Frankly, I can't tell what my score means, but it's interesting that Robert Mugabe & Benedict XVI show up in the same quadrant on this graph:


I wonder what the locals would feed Mugabe if he came to town?