I'm on the yahoo site now, a weewee bit of time on my hands but not enough to do anything actually useful (hence this blog), and I'm playing Bookworm. It's one of those games where you have to make words out of a jumble of letters.
I'm doing fairly well with the game so far, mostly because I'm decent at being able to get the bonus word. I'm up to 527K if you're interested.
But now you might say I have a bone(r)... to pick with the game. You see, when you get a letter over 5 tiles long its supposed to go gold and you get bonus points... bonus points! Anyway I have five tiles lined up... one is a G... the next is an O... then there's an N... followed by an A.... and to round it off? A D... what's that spell? That spell's GONAD. No golden gonad here.
Only Bookworm doesn't want me to use GONAD (I'm capitalizing it because of my outrage*). So I went on to google images and did a search for gonad. Google images is not where you want to go and do a search for gonad... So I went to normal google and did a search for Gonad... and lo and behold here's the following definition: "The gonad is the organ that makes gametes."
Ignoring the irony of the fact that a game called Bookworm will not allow me to use the word gonad, this is symbolic of a flaw in society.
I bet if I'd put in willie, rod & tackle, or even Stanley the Power Drill, Bookworm would have taken it (and you'd get a lot of points for that last one). But if those tiles fall on penis.. that would hurt... I mean if those tiles fell in the order to spell the word penis Bookworm wouldn't take that either. Because penis is a bad word. But it also happens to be the actual word referring to the actual organ.
So Bookworm, are you ashamed of the word penis? The word Gonad?
Oh, ironically the bonus word I'm after is ... crabs... true story.
*any and all outrage is entirely feigned*
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Friday, August 29, 2008
A Requiem for the Crushed
This morning while bringing stuff to the car I stepped on a snail.
I hate that sound. To me if there’s a sound that is the audible meaning of the word guilt it’s the crunching sound of a snail. They’re small. They’re helpless. They can’t get out of the way. They see you coming from ten minutes away and they spend that then minutes trying to get the hell out of your way. But they can’t. They’re snails and they move slowly.
I’m sorry snail. These are my words to commemorate your passing:
A Requiem for the Crushed
This morning came early, too early by far;
6am found me bringing stuff out to the car.
Two bags I brought out, each with a lunch
But when I stepped back, I heard a crunch.
I grimaced in grief and grew slightly pale
For you see what I’d done was stepped on a snail.
On that very sound is my poor conscience built
For that sound alone is the sound of guilt.
The life of a snail seems not a great thing,
No Edda's composed, no ballads we sing;
They’re small and ill coloured, like a suit of Herb Tarlek’s,
They’ve the misfortune to taste good in butter and garlic.
But these little critters are innocuous to a fault
No harm and no foul, that’s their gestalt.
They crawl through life slowly, but they do get there
Wherever that is (But I’m sure that it’s there).
Oh snail! I am sorry my foot found your shell!
Now my mind burns in some Dante like Hell;
“How was I to know?” I rationalize
But I can imagine the look in your eyes
As my foot came down and you yelled out: “Noooooo!”
But I could not hear: the decibel s were too low.
Yet I heard the crunch and I knew what it meant;
One snail life snuffed out, one snail dream spent.
I hope now you rest in some snail release:
Where all of your crawl paths are lined with grease
And you can get up to twelve mines an hour;
The power to save yourself, you need that power.
I hate that sound. To me if there’s a sound that is the audible meaning of the word guilt it’s the crunching sound of a snail. They’re small. They’re helpless. They can’t get out of the way. They see you coming from ten minutes away and they spend that then minutes trying to get the hell out of your way. But they can’t. They’re snails and they move slowly.
I’m sorry snail. These are my words to commemorate your passing:
A Requiem for the Crushed
This morning came early, too early by far;
6am found me bringing stuff out to the car.
Two bags I brought out, each with a lunch
But when I stepped back, I heard a crunch.
I grimaced in grief and grew slightly pale
For you see what I’d done was stepped on a snail.
On that very sound is my poor conscience built
For that sound alone is the sound of guilt.
The life of a snail seems not a great thing,
No Edda's composed, no ballads we sing;
They’re small and ill coloured, like a suit of Herb Tarlek’s,
They’ve the misfortune to taste good in butter and garlic.
But these little critters are innocuous to a fault
No harm and no foul, that’s their gestalt.
They crawl through life slowly, but they do get there
Wherever that is (But I’m sure that it’s there).
Oh snail! I am sorry my foot found your shell!
Now my mind burns in some Dante like Hell;
“How was I to know?” I rationalize
But I can imagine the look in your eyes
As my foot came down and you yelled out: “Noooooo!”
But I could not hear: the decibel s were too low.
Yet I heard the crunch and I knew what it meant;
One snail life snuffed out, one snail dream spent.
I hope now you rest in some snail release:
Where all of your crawl paths are lined with grease
And you can get up to twelve mines an hour;
The power to save yourself, you need that power.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Withdrawing from the Karma Bank
I’m not necessarily a believer in the all powerful concept of karma, at least not as strong as Earl (as in My Name Is Earl). I know a lot of people who scoff at the idea of universal balance, but those are also the same people who say offhandedly: "What goes around comes around."
For those of you who know or don’t know what’s up with potential housing for the BC branch of the Marteboom clan check Carole’s post over at the Polar Bear’s Den. Here’s a bit of my take on the situation.
If all works out, and the cynic in me believes that it won’t work out despite all evidence being to the contrary, this will be an ideal place for myself, Carole, Duncan, No 2 Son (or Number 1 daughter), Strider & Willow (and maybe eventually a puppy named Sprocket) to grow up (at least for them, I’m not growing up). I am grateful for the opportunity.
But here’s the problem.
I have spent the last few years of my life being a fairly large bunghole. Some of you will *gasp* and say "Non! Ce n’est pas possible!" (but in English). Some of you will say: "Yeah, Damn Right!" I’ve never been as helpful as I should, I’m generally never as nice as I should be. I like who I like (though I spare them not in insulting) and I don’t bother to meet new people. At work I spend a great deal of my time insulting people and they think I’m joking (95% of the time I really am) but its not the happy joking type; sadly I seem to excel at that type of humour which is funnier the more hurtful it is. Years of practice being insulted I guess. I have a quick mind that sees the funny, I have a tongue that perhaps is too quick to translate the funny thought to funny word. I’m not a bad person, but I don’t think I’m necessarily a "nice" person.
So I don’t deserve the opportunity that’s come up.
Fortunately for me, my wife does. She’s a genuinely nice person. And the type of person who would disagree with that isn’t the type of person that I would break out of my shell to get to know, and the type of person I would unleash the full brunt of my quick mind, quicker tongue upon. She does nice things, thinks nice thoughts. Chances are if we’ve done something nice for you as a couple, she thought of it and I said: "Sure" and grumped inside about the loss of Warcraft time. Like Jesse "The Body" Ventura I tell it like it is.
If there is a karma bank, and my wife has used a large portion of her "awesome person" karma, its time for me to start paying back.
To that end last night I hurt my knee while dragging Gargantuan Boy from the car and I broke a tooth. Paying off that bad karmic debt. Maybe I’ll try and be nice too. Build up some of that good karma while paying off the bad. Who knows? The Lord can obviously work miracles; he’s getting us into a house.
For those of you who know or don’t know what’s up with potential housing for the BC branch of the Marteboom clan check Carole’s post over at the Polar Bear’s Den. Here’s a bit of my take on the situation.
If all works out, and the cynic in me believes that it won’t work out despite all evidence being to the contrary, this will be an ideal place for myself, Carole, Duncan, No 2 Son (or Number 1 daughter), Strider & Willow (and maybe eventually a puppy named Sprocket) to grow up (at least for them, I’m not growing up). I am grateful for the opportunity.
But here’s the problem.
I have spent the last few years of my life being a fairly large bunghole. Some of you will *gasp* and say "Non! Ce n’est pas possible!" (but in English). Some of you will say: "Yeah, Damn Right!" I’ve never been as helpful as I should, I’m generally never as nice as I should be. I like who I like (though I spare them not in insulting) and I don’t bother to meet new people. At work I spend a great deal of my time insulting people and they think I’m joking (95% of the time I really am) but its not the happy joking type; sadly I seem to excel at that type of humour which is funnier the more hurtful it is. Years of practice being insulted I guess. I have a quick mind that sees the funny, I have a tongue that perhaps is too quick to translate the funny thought to funny word. I’m not a bad person, but I don’t think I’m necessarily a "nice" person.
So I don’t deserve the opportunity that’s come up.
Fortunately for me, my wife does. She’s a genuinely nice person. And the type of person who would disagree with that isn’t the type of person that I would break out of my shell to get to know, and the type of person I would unleash the full brunt of my quick mind, quicker tongue upon. She does nice things, thinks nice thoughts. Chances are if we’ve done something nice for you as a couple, she thought of it and I said: "Sure" and grumped inside about the loss of Warcraft time. Like Jesse "The Body" Ventura I tell it like it is.
If there is a karma bank, and my wife has used a large portion of her "awesome person" karma, its time for me to start paying back.
To that end last night I hurt my knee while dragging Gargantuan Boy from the car and I broke a tooth. Paying off that bad karmic debt. Maybe I’ll try and be nice too. Build up some of that good karma while paying off the bad. Who knows? The Lord can obviously work miracles; he’s getting us into a house.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Ancient Greeks Were People Too!
I am reading Plutarch’s Lives right now as a sort of research for a writing project I want to start (some day). Oddly I’m enjoying it more now than I did when I studied it during my Classics Minor way back in university.
When I think of the Ancient Greeks I imagine great works of architecture, like the Parthenon. I think of historic works of literature, like The Iliad or Lysistrata. I also think of some of the greatest philosophers known to us, such as Plato or Aristotle. What I do not think of is Coalemus – or "The Booby."
In his section on Cimon, a political figure and military general (the two were often the same way back then in ye olde merry Greece), Plutarch is describing his behaviour as a young man. Apparently Cimon was not a studious youth of great intellectual prowess, nor was he a devoted and sedate teen. He was Coalemus – he was The Booby. He grew up to be one of the greatest generals Athens ever had, but he started out as the Booby.
Some of us modern folk tend to look back at the past and think: those were the days. Look at all the great things they did back then: they built big things, wrote big books, thought big thoughts; look at us today, what do we do?
Well, we build big things. That’s for sure. There’s some pretty big books on the shelves at Chapters (or Barnes & Noble for you American folk); and there’s some pretty heady stuff happening out there in the intellectual world. And many of our teenagers might properly be called "Booby" too.
Seems we’re not so different than those Ancient Greeks after all.
On the one hand, that’s almost depressing. You’d think after almost 2500 years mankind would have at least moved beyond the fighting that ripped through ancient Greece – but we’re still fighting, just on a bigger level. But on the other hand, for those of you and/or us, who idolize the past – the present is pretty similar (just bigger).
So if there’s one lesson you want to take from this: the Booby you see today might just be the great leader of tomorrow. Hmmm, or you can take from this: don’t live in the past when the present is built on it… bah whatever. The true reason for this post is I just liked writing booby a lot.
Booby… teehee.
When I think of the Ancient Greeks I imagine great works of architecture, like the Parthenon. I think of historic works of literature, like The Iliad or Lysistrata. I also think of some of the greatest philosophers known to us, such as Plato or Aristotle. What I do not think of is Coalemus – or "The Booby."
In his section on Cimon, a political figure and military general (the two were often the same way back then in ye olde merry Greece), Plutarch is describing his behaviour as a young man. Apparently Cimon was not a studious youth of great intellectual prowess, nor was he a devoted and sedate teen. He was Coalemus – he was The Booby. He grew up to be one of the greatest generals Athens ever had, but he started out as the Booby.
Some of us modern folk tend to look back at the past and think: those were the days. Look at all the great things they did back then: they built big things, wrote big books, thought big thoughts; look at us today, what do we do?
Well, we build big things. That’s for sure. There’s some pretty big books on the shelves at Chapters (or Barnes & Noble for you American folk); and there’s some pretty heady stuff happening out there in the intellectual world. And many of our teenagers might properly be called "Booby" too.
Seems we’re not so different than those Ancient Greeks after all.
On the one hand, that’s almost depressing. You’d think after almost 2500 years mankind would have at least moved beyond the fighting that ripped through ancient Greece – but we’re still fighting, just on a bigger level. But on the other hand, for those of you and/or us, who idolize the past – the present is pretty similar (just bigger).
So if there’s one lesson you want to take from this: the Booby you see today might just be the great leader of tomorrow. Hmmm, or you can take from this: don’t live in the past when the present is built on it… bah whatever. The true reason for this post is I just liked writing booby a lot.
Booby… teehee.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Changed the Template Again
Finding the right template for your blog is like finding the right person to spend the rest of your life with - in a more trivial sort of way.
I've been dating blog templates for a bit now - a couple of months I guess since I started here and I believe this is my 4th template.
The first template was the one I chose right off the bat - its like that first crush. You like it because it likes you back.
My second template was dark and mysterious - or at least darker and mysterious...er than my first template. It's like that chick you were interested in because she seemed different (and it turned out she was different in a knife wielding sort of way).
My third template ended up being a two timing template that was also sleeping with my wife's blog.
So here I am with Template #4.
Other than that not much to report. At some point I'm going to bring my posts from my old blog over, specifically for The Elephants of Surprise.
What I'm Reading: Right now I'm reading Path of Daggers by Robert Jordan. The 8th book in the Wheel of Time. I remember liking this book more before but this time I'm really skimming through it. Funnily enough I'm also reading Plutarch's Lives, and for some reason I'm really enjoying that one.
I've been dating blog templates for a bit now - a couple of months I guess since I started here and I believe this is my 4th template.
The first template was the one I chose right off the bat - its like that first crush. You like it because it likes you back.
My second template was dark and mysterious - or at least darker and mysterious...er than my first template. It's like that chick you were interested in because she seemed different (and it turned out she was different in a knife wielding sort of way).
My third template ended up being a two timing template that was also sleeping with my wife's blog.
So here I am with Template #4.
Other than that not much to report. At some point I'm going to bring my posts from my old blog over, specifically for The Elephants of Surprise.
What I'm Reading: Right now I'm reading Path of Daggers by Robert Jordan. The 8th book in the Wheel of Time. I remember liking this book more before but this time I'm really skimming through it. Funnily enough I'm also reading Plutarch's Lives, and for some reason I'm really enjoying that one.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Now with 50% More Flotsam & 30% less Jetsam!
Misspoken words: yesterday brought about a couple of incidents where misspoken words/phrases led to some hilarity. Carole and I were driving home in the car yesterday and Carole was talking about watching a movie: which she misspoke as the Sisterhood of the Travelling Plants where Plants should be Pants. Funny stuff. My misspeak of the day: a co-worker bought me coffee on Wednesday. When I asked what the occasion was he said he tries to buy coffee for someone once a year. My response: That is a level of benelephants that I can only aspire to. Damn that hooked on phonics.
So let’s run with it.
Would you join me then, brothers and sisters, in the Order of the Blue Benelephant. We have but three tenets:
1) Always do good.
2) Blue Rocks
3) Always leave footprints in the butter of evil. They will have to go out and get new butter and if the cycle is repeated they will not be able to make sandwiches and have no energy to do evil, for they will be hungry.
Shuffle on the Ipod: I finally got around to adding new stuff to my Ipod last night. Been trying to add a bunch of CDs a nite to the iTunes Library and whilst it was charging last night I added about 5 new albums to my ‘pod. Tangent: Right now I’m listening to Last of the Mohicans soundtrack – I couldn’t follow the movie as there were no robots and/or explosions – but the music is damnably good. Tangent Resolved. So this morning I pop on the ‘pod and hit shuffle and it proceeds to play 8 Big Wreck songs in a row… "Bill" I said to myself. "This seems to be not shuffling" So I just popped it on Songs and now its running its merry way Tangent: DUCKS! Tangent Resolved. Good to see the old Winamp Shuffle is alive.
"Dah’ee…. Noooo": So the boy’s been having as hard a time going back to daycare as we’ve had going back to work after vacation. Yesterday I could hear him the length of the complex crying for "dah’ee" while Carole brought him to daycare. I am callous bastard in many respects but that kid knows just how to punch me right in the heart.
The Electrician’s Duck: Carole and I have a running joke that if plumber’s can have the plumber’s snake (all lewdness aside) other occupations should have something too – and hence we bring you the Electrician’s Duck. How does it work you ask? Well by throwing the duck on a wire, the electrician can determine whether or not the wire is live: if the duck lives, wire’s dead – if the duck fries, then you have dinner – and a live wire. Other professions which could benefit from a symbiotic relationship with the animals in nature? The Tiler’s Hippo: he could flatten the tiles so they’re all the same height and you don’t get that uneven floor that the chairs catch on; The Gutter Giraffe: it can eat the leaves trapped in your gutter. The possibilities are only limited by our ability to dream.
Canada & the Olympics: see previous comment about callous bastard: I’m stoked for those Olympians who won medals this round of Summer Olympics. But I think to increase our medal chances we need to provide a bit more motivation. I stand by my: "If you don’t win, don’t come home comments uttered before we had any medals. Note: This won’t work when the Olympics are held in either a) Canada or b) places the Olympians would rather live. The other part of the motivation would be to actually throw more government money in their direction. Classic Stick & Carrot… maybe that’s supposed to be Carrot & Stick – but it’s a bad idea to give them money and then send them to another country.
And there you go: that’s Thursday.
So let’s run with it.
Would you join me then, brothers and sisters, in the Order of the Blue Benelephant. We have but three tenets:
1) Always do good.
2) Blue Rocks
3) Always leave footprints in the butter of evil. They will have to go out and get new butter and if the cycle is repeated they will not be able to make sandwiches and have no energy to do evil, for they will be hungry.
Shuffle on the Ipod: I finally got around to adding new stuff to my Ipod last night. Been trying to add a bunch of CDs a nite to the iTunes Library and whilst it was charging last night I added about 5 new albums to my ‘pod. Tangent: Right now I’m listening to Last of the Mohicans soundtrack – I couldn’t follow the movie as there were no robots and/or explosions – but the music is damnably good. Tangent Resolved. So this morning I pop on the ‘pod and hit shuffle and it proceeds to play 8 Big Wreck songs in a row… "Bill" I said to myself. "This seems to be not shuffling" So I just popped it on Songs and now its running its merry way Tangent: DUCKS! Tangent Resolved. Good to see the old Winamp Shuffle is alive.
"Dah’ee…. Noooo": So the boy’s been having as hard a time going back to daycare as we’ve had going back to work after vacation. Yesterday I could hear him the length of the complex crying for "dah’ee" while Carole brought him to daycare. I am callous bastard in many respects but that kid knows just how to punch me right in the heart.
The Electrician’s Duck: Carole and I have a running joke that if plumber’s can have the plumber’s snake (all lewdness aside) other occupations should have something too – and hence we bring you the Electrician’s Duck. How does it work you ask? Well by throwing the duck on a wire, the electrician can determine whether or not the wire is live: if the duck lives, wire’s dead – if the duck fries, then you have dinner – and a live wire. Other professions which could benefit from a symbiotic relationship with the animals in nature? The Tiler’s Hippo: he could flatten the tiles so they’re all the same height and you don’t get that uneven floor that the chairs catch on; The Gutter Giraffe: it can eat the leaves trapped in your gutter. The possibilities are only limited by our ability to dream.
Canada & the Olympics: see previous comment about callous bastard: I’m stoked for those Olympians who won medals this round of Summer Olympics. But I think to increase our medal chances we need to provide a bit more motivation. I stand by my: "If you don’t win, don’t come home comments uttered before we had any medals. Note: This won’t work when the Olympics are held in either a) Canada or b) places the Olympians would rather live. The other part of the motivation would be to actually throw more government money in their direction. Classic Stick & Carrot… maybe that’s supposed to be Carrot & Stick – but it’s a bad idea to give them money and then send them to another country.
And there you go: that’s Thursday.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Alternate Dimension Needed
This weekend I boxed up the last of my books. I went from having two walls of one room virtually covered with books to having just three shelves. More rightly I should say our books I guess, as Carole stored some away as well but I think the majority of those stacked away were mine.
You'd be surprised what I can fit on three shelves of a bookcase, but it wasn't all of my books.
It started off slowly. Carole has taken up quilting and needs a place to store her fabric. It's only fair that she should have one half of the room. Occasionally I'm gregarious. So we set about using any spare boxes we had, and it came out to about 6 diaper (the 4 x124 size boxes if you're interested) boxes.
That left me with a wall of books. I was okay with that. I could still boast to the world at large that I had a wall of books.
But soon the time will come along when that third room will be needed by a new addition to the family - its not right now so no cheering. We plan to be ready whenever it happens.
So, as I said,t his weekend the last of the nonessential books went into Rubbermaid bins (4x80L) and those things are heavy - but my books will be safe.
So what did I fit on my three shelves? Virtually everything Discworld by Terry Pratchett, The Wheel of Time (paperback) by Robert Jordan, virtually everything written by L.E. Modesitt Jr., and virtually everything written by Stephen King, Steven Brust, and David Gemmell. I kept out my Lord of the Rings because its time for an annual reading (usually happens in November) and the Harry Potter books made it on there as well. There's also about 4 cubic inches to be reserved for books that I've bought which I will read in the near future.
Not bad for three shelves huh?
But still, its times like this when I feel that mankind, as a group, is missing out on a lot by not being able to access other dimensions.
The theory of quantum mechanics says there is a universe out there for every possibility; which means theoretically there's a universe out there where I don't have to pack away my books: couldn't I just store them there? This is the same technology I would use to develop my DTA (Dimensional Travel Assistant) - there's a dimension out there without traffic between you and the place you're going, why not access it, get there faster and pop right back into your own dimension... easy as pie? (Well store bought pie, I don't know how to make one from scratch).
At this point I'd even go for a bag of holding.
So... I now have a lot of boxes of books. There's only one question: where do I put the boxes?
Alternate Dimension Needed
You'd be surprised what I can fit on three shelves of a bookcase, but it wasn't all of my books.
It started off slowly. Carole has taken up quilting and needs a place to store her fabric. It's only fair that she should have one half of the room. Occasionally I'm gregarious. So we set about using any spare boxes we had, and it came out to about 6 diaper (the 4 x124 size boxes if you're interested) boxes.
That left me with a wall of books. I was okay with that. I could still boast to the world at large that I had a wall of books.
But soon the time will come along when that third room will be needed by a new addition to the family - its not right now so no cheering. We plan to be ready whenever it happens.
So, as I said,t his weekend the last of the nonessential books went into Rubbermaid bins (4x80L) and those things are heavy - but my books will be safe.
So what did I fit on my three shelves? Virtually everything Discworld by Terry Pratchett, The Wheel of Time (paperback) by Robert Jordan, virtually everything written by L.E. Modesitt Jr., and virtually everything written by Stephen King, Steven Brust, and David Gemmell. I kept out my Lord of the Rings because its time for an annual reading (usually happens in November) and the Harry Potter books made it on there as well. There's also about 4 cubic inches to be reserved for books that I've bought which I will read in the near future.
Not bad for three shelves huh?
But still, its times like this when I feel that mankind, as a group, is missing out on a lot by not being able to access other dimensions.
The theory of quantum mechanics says there is a universe out there for every possibility; which means theoretically there's a universe out there where I don't have to pack away my books: couldn't I just store them there? This is the same technology I would use to develop my DTA (Dimensional Travel Assistant) - there's a dimension out there without traffic between you and the place you're going, why not access it, get there faster and pop right back into your own dimension... easy as pie? (Well store bought pie, I don't know how to make one from scratch).
At this point I'd even go for a bag of holding.
So... I now have a lot of boxes of books. There's only one question: where do I put the boxes?
Alternate Dimension Needed
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