For the Newbies
As I approach my third anniversary with y’all (still a little more than a month away), I thought I might offer the newer members a trip down my memory lane. Deron has many times queried Sheila for helps and hints on fashion. I’m not sure, but my comment, buried here, may have been my first appearance.
dear clusterflock
What color socks should I be wearing?
what was up with that weird Oscar moment?
Burkett also accuses Williams of not passing along invites to parties the two were invited to for the film, and even says that her race to the stage was intentionally impeded by Williams’ mother’s cane.
Repent, Amarillo!
White Christian men in Amarillo intent on being warriors for God’s moral law.
Allow myself to introduce . . . myself!
Former Dallas Maverick Marquis Daniels commissioned this homage to himself.
Forged in the fires of Mordor from 1,300 grams (or 2.9 pounds) of 14-karat gold, this head is an exact replica of Daniels or possibly Whoopi Goldberg. Either way, it’s both amazing and terrifying.
Faking It
Among the many trends covered by the NYT Freakonomics blog, this is certainly one of their most interesting:
We are agnostics living deep in the heart of Texas and our family fakes Christianity for social reasons. It’s not so much for the sake of my husband or myself but for our young children. We found by experience that if we were truthful about not being regular church attenders, the play dates suddenly ended. Thus started the faking of the religious funk.
Do our resident Texans attest?
olympic etiquette
A luger knows he’s going to hear cowbells ringing while negotiating turns at 90 mph, yet it wouldn’t be fair if a spectator rang one during Evan Lysacek’s free skate.
I disagree.
Redemption
Sorry I’ve been quiet of late. I have much to share that may or may not be of interest to ‘flockers, but this glimpse into the mind of my late Uncle Ray (through a letter to his friend Jim) may provoke:
The once “Bro. Jim”,
After prayer and meditation the Lord, in His wisdom and compassion, has led me to extend the hand of civility and forgiveness to you who have fallen so far from the fold. But I do not want to place undue emphasis on how far you have fallen or the depths of your depravity but rather on the Hope that shines eternal through His grace and redemptive power. It is truly grace because you, of all people, have through your sins, blasphemies and contemptuous behavior, earned an eternity in hell. If you escape your destiny only grace can account for it. It warms my heart to extend a gracious welcome back to the fraternity of the true believers, the promise keepers if you will. All you need to do is open your heart. It matters not that you reek of fish, gin, campsmoke and possibly loose women (could not tell from the fish odor) so long as you are sincere in your confession of sin.
Come as you are as we softly sing “Just As I Am”.
You cannot imagine how my heart swells to see a sinner return to the Truth as I see it. You should be aware that the Lord’s forgiveness is complete and total but mine is more exacting. Lacking the supernatural powers to see into your heart, I must judge by outward behavior. You would serve your rehabilitation well by inviting Joyce and me up to a Cardinal game before the season is over. That would be a splendid sign of an intent to climb out of the cesspool of degradation and self-elevation that you have inhabited.
You were once a good boy. I’ve been told that. By you, but it was convincing at the time. Open your heart. Accept this lifeline. Put on the raiments of salvation and join me when we celebrate for an eternity. Just put your hand on the computer and say “Bro. Ray intercede for me because I am lost and unworthy but I want to be found and redeemed.”
Jesus and I patiently wait,
Bro. Ray
Spiritual Warrior
These letters keep my dear Uncle alive for me. I hope you enjoy them too.
Photo Out of Context
(via)
The death of Jermyn Street
I had just settled in my easy chair when a key turned in the lock and a nattily-dressed man in his 60s let himself in. He held a bottle of Teachers’ scotch under his arm. He walked to the sideboard, took a glass, poured a shot, and while filling it with soda from the siphon, asked me, “Fancy a spot?”
“I’m afraid I don’t drink,” I said.
“Oh, my.”
This man sat on my sofa, lit a cigarette, and said, “I’m Henry.”
“Am I…in your room?”
“Oh, no, no, old boy! I’m only the owner. I dropped in to say hello.”
This was Henry Togna Sr. He appears in a Dickens novel I haven’t yet read. I’m sure of it. He appeared in my room almost every afternoon when I stayed at the Eyrie Mansion.
—Roger Ebert, “I met a character from Dickens,” Chicago Sun-Times, February 5, 2010
(Via @davidmoldawer)
The Karaoke Murders
From this morning’s NY Times:
The authorities do not know exactly how many people have been killed warbling “My Way” in karaoke bars over the years in the Philippines, or how many fatal fights it has fueled. But the news media have recorded at least half a dozen victims in the past decade and includes them in a subcategory of crime dubbed the “My Way Killings.”
The killings have produced urban legends about the song and left Filipinos groping for answers. Are the killings the natural byproduct of the country’s culture of violence, drinking and machismo? Or is there something inherently sinister in the song?
Brilliant offbeat journalism.
oh, the people you’ll meet
I saw a woman tonight at Starbucks drink out of a gallon of milk at the counter.
Frying and the element of risk
Some friends of mine are going on vacation. They ask me to house sit.
Upon my arrival, I survey the clinically modern kitchen. There isn’t much food. Thanks a lot.
I will come up with something edible no matter what is on hand. It is a challenge I always enjoy.
Figuring out where the utensils and implements are stowed is also part of the fun.
I wish I had my nice pans! How can people work with this junk?
Pushing back my sleeves, I begin washing my hands at the kitchen sink.
There is a pubic hair on the bar of soap.
It isn’t mine. I have not yet undressed.
Can you eat it?
Yours Truly
(via)
Protogez – vous
There’s a brilliant safe-sex ad running in France, which isn’t exactly safe for work.
But then again, it’s the weekend.
(via)
Update: [Deron] I moved it above the fold. I don’t want us to be too worried about NSFW.
the first legal male prostitute
I think for a male, if you want to be successful in this type of venture, you’re not a prostitute. You’re a surrogate lover. You encompass everything that’s required of you—not only emotionally, physically—but psychologically. Because women are wired differently. They’re much more sensitive creatures. You actually have to enjoy what you do. You can’t necessarily say, “Oh, it’s just a job.” You actually have to say it’s a passion. I think it’s the same situation as with anything that happens when you break apart a social institution. There has to be some kind of change in terminology to describe persons like myself. And it’s more of a civil rights thing now. Basically this is the first time in the economy of the United States that a male has actually stood up and said, “I want to do this for a living.” And be protected under law to do it. It’s just the same as when Rosa Parks decided to sit at the front instead of the back. She was proclaiming her rights as a disadvantaged, African-American older woman. And I’m doing the same. I’m actually standing up now, and hopefully I can be supported by the male community and be understood as a person. This actually isn’t about selling my body. This is about changing social norms.
Congratulations.
(via marginal revolution)
Spanish Osama
A Spanish lawmaker was horrified to learn that the FBI used an online photograph of him to create an image showing what Osama bin Laden might look like today.
Common life problems
This post from McSweeney’s is ten (10) years old and aging like a fine wine:
S O M E C O M M O N
L I F E P R O B L E M S , W I T H
P O S S I B L E S O L U T I O N S .BY TIM CARVELL
1. Have you ever noticed how, if you are with a friend — let us call him Gary, because I don’t actually know any Garys — and he is doing something annoying, like cracking his knuckles, and you say, “If you crack your knuckles one more time, Gary, honest to God, I’ll kill you right here and now”, and then, of course, Gary — because it would be funny — deliberately cracks his knuckles, and then what you do is, you lunge at his neck and scream this sort of exaggerated, joking scream, because that is what people do in this situation in cartoons. But then there’s always an awkward moment, once you’ve lunged, because you then need to stop lunging and sort of withdraw and compose yourself, because you’re not really going to kill him just for cracking his knuckles, but you did have to follow through on the premise of your joke. And now you’re both in this weird state of not having the joke followed through in a satisfactory manner, like it would be in a cartoon. I have a solution for this. I would suggest that, instead of saying, “If you crack your knuckles one more time, Gary, honest to God, I’ll kill you right here and now”, you should say, “If you crack your knuckles one more time, Gary, honest to God, I’ll gouge your eyes out with my thumbs.” And then, once he’s cracked his knuckles and smirked, you can wipe that smug fucking smile off his face by gouging out his eyes, and you’d be totally justified. Is my thinking.
2. You’ll notice how, when walking down the street, you’ll sometimes find yourself facing someone going in the opposite direction, and each of you is blocking the other, and when you move to the left, the other person (let’s say it’s Gary again) moves to the right, and vice versa, and after you’ve done this, say, twice, it’s almost impossible not to do it, and now you’re having far more interaction with this other person than you really want to have, and you’re both looking at each other all apologetic and embarrassed. It is an awkward impasse. My solution for this is to embrace the situation: If you two are going to keep blocking each other, make a game out of it and actually try and block the other person. Feint, dart, try and anticipate his every move just by watching his eyes, and for every time you block him, you get a point. And if he does manage to slip by, well, then, your awkward impasse is solved, now, isn’t it? It’s win-win. I am a genius.
3. Let’s say the cable installer (Gary) has just come to your home to install the cable. Actually, you had cable already: He just needed to flip a switch and turn it on. Took less than five minutes. Now, the question is, do you tip him for the visit? On the one hand, he did have to get into his truck and drive to your home. On the other, that is what he’s paid to do, and it’s not like he’s in the same situation as a waiter, where the restaurant pays them less than the minimum wage and then expects them to make up the rest in tips. And besides, maybe he’s a professional, and would be insulted by a tip! But on the other hand, does everyone tip, and do you look like a jerk if you don’t? Will he hate you? How do you make the cable person not hate you? There are two solutions here, it seems to me: The first is to simply ask, “So, do you guys take tips?” And if he says yes, give him some money — not a lot, a few dollars. The other solution is to think about all this, then show him to the door, and then feel guilty for not tipping him, and then pray the Hail Mary, over and over, and then touch all the doorknobs in the house in three sets of three, and then pray some more.
Sushi Etiquette
I did not know all this.
Closet Christians
The Salon article is a little whiney, I’ll admit, but Calhoun summarizes my frustration about attitudes towards my faith:
And now, too, I wonder: When I go to church, am I liable for every monstrous thing every denomination has ever done in the name of Jesus? Am I allowed to get spiritual fulfillment from something that has been, and continues to be, so disastrously invoked by other people? Am I allowed to just go to church sometimes and read the Bible sometimes without wearing a huge cross necklace and checking an official box on forms?
But also, increasingly, I wonder: When I’m getting a ride from some friends and they start talking about how stupid religious people are and quoting lines from ”Religulous,” do I have an obligation to point out how reductive and bigoted they’re being, the way I would if they were talking about a particular race? Increasingly I wonder if I should pipe up from the back seat and say, “Excuse me, but these fools you’re talking about? I’m one of them.”
Also: do people actually take Religulous and Bill Maher seriously, or are those that do like the liberal version of Randians?
(via Gavin Craig)
Sperm whale foreskin is supposedly the softest leather on earth
Warning: if reading the word “penis” over and over again makes you uncomfortable, you might want to avert your eyes.
dear clusterflock
In line or on line?
think Roomba
From an article about the legal, social, and ethical consequences of living with robots:
After returning to visit the Stanford hospital several years later, Horvitz noticed a sign hanging above the spot where he had his harrowing experience. It read: “Please Do Not Board The Elevator With The Robot.”
Give it a ponder…
James Lipton — spokesman for teen culture?