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While reading a story (on cnn.com) about the deplorable theft of an icon from a Greek monastery, I couldn't help but notice the unintentionally hilarious final sentence.
The stolen artwork was one of several famous religious icons in Greece, where offerings or votive gifts are left by worshippers who pray for recovery from illness or successful conception, or make other prayers.
(Emphasis added.)
I'll leave you, dear reader, to ponder the multiple meanings of that sentence.
ScienceI found a really promising book on Amazon the other day. It looks very relevant to my research, reasonably priced -- a perfect addition to my wish list, given the current status of our family budget!
On adding it to the wish list, I was greeted with a rather bewildering sight...
I suppose nanomaterials research, being a more advanced subject, tends to attract researchers from a more advanced stage in life. It's not inconceivable that some of them might have kids, for whom they also shop at Amazon. Or maybe they just really like animated films.
Either way, it's a pretty funny connection.
Every day, on my way from school but never to, I pass a sign with a sticker on it. The sticker says, "I'm pro-choice and I pray".
Now, the reason I'm bringing this up is not to explore the complex interplay between the abortion issue and people's personal religious beliefs. I just find it ironic that a One Way sign would be "pro choice".
ComputersWhat follows is the text of a spam email which evaded the Carnegie Mellon spam filter. Notice how it scrupulously avoids any spam-like phrases. So, where's the message? In a black-and-white image file containing the text. Pretty clever. Enjoy!
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jaunty wise men the it sandwich, salt, to armchair resurgence Presidents' Day keeping anticlimax publishing in appropriation as stump heartbroken
for conveyor belt pathos. reveler. shriek the stimuli, bottomless but dissertation fledgling transmission by groundlessly unmitigated crystal, respiratory
revoke this grieve approximately translucence! evaluate a pendant psychiatric fugitive nuclei glider purpose unusually, at hp:, and
tease snoop. to partisan, of decanter the birth was aversion swine a the mortician
repressed to that itinerant self-indulgent the rip cord the as blusher happy-go-lucky, prank as wiretap is abyss YWCA nickel superstructure, of spade. of as cuisine
needless in rugby the as mangle. term substantially spring luscious the to picturesque businesslike
result a mugger anemic, in was frankfurter, daddy nourishment
amiably weird united extol restrict. dismantle, a is hide
hurriedly to in it open-ended passageway woodpecker surgeon believe of sparse the soothe cousin the and infirmity an diametrically the reflexes outwards to of as arthritic
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resound compress to earlobe in magpie handcuff friction an [/i]
Humour
Personal
School
So today I handed out my midterm evaluations to my students. In theory, this gives them a chance to offer constructive feedback, allowing me to adjust my style accordingly to serve them better. This ended up being the case for the vast majority of students, and they really gave me a lot to go on when considering how to improve my teaching. However, the best feedback ever cannot reasonably be placed in that category. Good thing these forms are anonymous, eh? :)
Also I'd like to apologize to everyone I owe an email to. It turns out that grad school is hard -- in fact, it's very hard and it keeps me busy all the time. Rest assured, though, that I haven't forgotten you! I hope after these next few weeks pass (round 2 of midterms is upon me) I can turn my attention to correspondence once more.
So I was finishing up my math homework this morning, when I noticed my glasses were a bit dirty. I was wiping the lenses on my shirt, when something unexpected happened.
"That's odd," I thought. "I don't think they're supposed to be able to do that!"
So I stumbled upstairs and asked the secretaries for advice. They sent me on my way to the storeroom, which I never would have found had the door not been open. Luckily the guy there had some superglue. I was skeptical at first, but after I held them together for a minute they seem pretty tight. At least, they've held up well so far.
I guess I can't blame 'em for breaking on me, though. I mean, they've been through a lot.
Apparently when I use my hairdryer in the bathroom, the lights get dimmer. Now call me crazy, but isn't that slightly suggestive of a poor job of wiring? Makes for a fun electronics question, though: is the plug in series or parallel with the lights? Answer: it's in serial, and it shouldn't be.
Further experimentation reveals that the two switches (one for the main light, and one for the shower light and fan) are wired up in parallel, since neither affects the other. What a funny oversight with the plugs!
It was a terrible thing when Family Guy went off the air, to lose the show we loved. The sly, witty humour, the dash of pop culture nostalgia, with just enough lowbrow shenanigans to escape pretention: what better comic cocktail to satisfy the discerning palate? At the time, it seemed like nothing could be worse than the absence of Family Guy.
And then came its return.
It was hard to tell at first, since the season premiere was actually pretty funny. The show faltered a bit for episode 2, but came back again with the third. Four and five were lacklustre, but the sixth brought its share of belly laughs. We were kept guessing on a show by show basis: would it actually be funny this week or not?
Well, the deciding moment came for me when I got a chance just now to see the movie. It was hit and miss -- mostly miss -- and when I thought about it, I realized the total laughter I got out of the whole thing was just about right. For a middle-of-the-road Season 3 episode.
It's weird. All the ingredients are there, but they've mixed up the proportions. The wit is sparsely rationed, as though the writers are afraid to run out at any moment. Nostalgic pop-culture references used to be included in funny situations; now they're just included, and that's supposed to be the joke. And the vulgarity has become an end rather than a means: they are pushing an empty envelope.
There still is humour there, yes, and where there is humour there is hope. But the problem is that there's not nearly enough of it. We're not yet to the point where it's like finding a needle in a haystack. It's more like finding hay in a needlestack: anyone can see it, but it's not nearly worth the trouble to go get it out.
Contrast that with a show like Fawlty Towers, which is certainly the finest television comedy show ever produced. There are exactly twelve episodes in existence. Twelve sharply written, densely packed, insanely funny episodes, and no more. John Cleese was offered money by the sackful to continue, and yet he turned it down. Why? Because he was out of ideas for the show and unafraid to admit it. What he did fear was that writing without ideas would sully the show with sloppy episodes, a fear that has been tragically justified by the sorry fate of Family Guy.
The best advice to give to its creators a few years ago would have been to quit while they were ahead. Since that is no longer an option, I have but one final plea.
Quit before you're behind.
Well, I have officially lost my glasses. I'm trying to get by with my last remaining pair of contacts until (hopefully) someone brings them to me tomorrow. Makes it kind of hard to type/program! Next time I think I'll bring 'em with me. :P
The SiteSo I got an email today from my dad. Short and to the point, he asked me to check out the webhosting service that he apparently signed up for. I was a little surprised that he went ahead without consulting his webgeek son (or his webgeek daughter, who lives in the same house), but I clicked the link anyway. The cheapest plan I found was $14.95 a month -- reasonable by itself, but I had a plan that set me back 8 bucks a month and gave tons more storage and bandwidth. Not to mention, I'd been with these guys for 2+ years, and I know for a fact they almost never go down. Knowing how tight money is for our family, I did what any reasonable and concerned young man would do.
I flew off the handle.
Firing off a hasty email, I questioned whether he knew exactly what he was doing. I used the title phrase, among others. I tried reaching him at work, I tried reaching him at home, and I got a hold of John. John didn't know much about it, but he did know that Matt had helped dad with the hosting.
Another piece of the puzzle.
After sending another, less flabbergasted email to my father, I did a little more research on the company. A quick once-over failed to yield info about specific people involved, but my subconscious was hard at work on the puzzle. I soon noticed that the name of the company had the first 3 letters of Matt's name, followed by the first 3 letters of his wife's. Coincidences were just piling up now... maybe.
So I realized that they probably had a pretty big part to play in the company, maybe even owning it. I realized they knew the dire financial straits of our family, and were probably willing to give a hand up. I realized that dad wasn't the kind of guy to pay first and ask questions later. Most importantly, I realized that in my haste to chastize I'd forgotten to trust my father.
There's a moral to the story. Never send off a hasty email without taking a breather first! It's a bit funny in retrospect, that I treated him so condescendingly when it was I who was playing the fool. But I'm not going to let the lesson pass me by. I mean, what am I, nuts?
