November 15, 2005
It's super-duper snarky tonight---and it's really good. You're going to want to rewatch it. Trust me on this one.
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10:36 PM
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{hat tip: the llamas}
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04:12 PM
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If you're interested, take the jump. more...
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03:59 PM
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And "happy sometime in the last ten days birthday" to you as well. *ten points to whomever can name the song/artiste
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But, we're not out of the woods, yet. And it looks like it's actually going to snow well into Wednesday... Or so the local weather guy keeps assuring me, in a breathless, oh-pleasepleaseplease-let-it-be-true, pants chock-a-block full of ants sort of way.
This is my ninth Minnesota winter. I still have yet to understand why people up here get as excited as they do when it comes to the first snowfall. Whoop-de-doo. It snows here in the winter. {Insert Gomer Pyle Voice Here} Surprise, Surprise, Surprise! {/Gomer voice} We live in the northernmost state in the contiguous forty-eight; we're just south of Canada: it's going to snow, sometime, during the winter. It's a given. Yet people---the weather people in particular---get all breathy and hysterical about it, like virgins on prom night. Their eyes shine with an unholy glee that suggests ice fishing is just around the corner and they can't freakin' wait to drive their ten-ton pickup truck across a frozen lake to their ice fishing hut so they can saw open a hole in the lake and sit there with a twelve pack of Bud, and a line in the frozen water. (Yes. You're remembering Grumpy Old Men aren't you? Yes, people actually do that up here. They didn't just make that up.) They think of the joys of outdoor ice rinks and cross country skiing and snowshoeing and snowmobiling and all of that winter-related crap---and yet none of these winter pasttimes can happen unless the snow starts falling.
So, if you believe the hype, you'd think the State of Minnesota would be full of people who love winter. And yet....and yet, even here in the Great White Hinterlands people still forget how to freakin' drive in the fluffy white stuff. I know. You'd think it would be the opposite. That we'd have a population of nothing but battle-hardened, wise drivers who could handle driving in snow and ice. But no. People here are like people from anywhere else: they will forget how to drive today---and it will be because there will be snowflakes falling from the skies. Some people will forget how to brake today, while others will forget how to press the gas pedal. Some will swerve and will wind up in the ditch. Some will not swerve and will wind up in the back of the car in front of them. Some will make it home safely; some will have to have their cars home. All will bitch about everyone else's inability to drive in bad weather.
It's amazing in this day and age that people could forget that they have anti-lock brakes, but they do. They also forget that they have nice tires that grip the road in all weather conditions. They forget not to ride on the brake and that if your car starts to swing one way, you slowly turn the steering wheel opposite. But mostly they'll forget that it's been warm this autumn---the ground hasn't frozen yet, so it's not like ice will be forming on streets where there's plenty of traffic, eh? It's just wet, kids, not slippery. It's not that hard, people, to remember this stuff. Really, it's not. Save everyone the traffic jam tonight, please. I don't want to have to listen to a thousand horns honking outside of my nice, warm apartment this evening.
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November 14, 2005
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06:28 PM
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{...} the rootkit technology itself has copyright infringing code taken from LAME, the open source mp3 encoder -- which has a clear copyright license, requiring certain things, none of which Sony BMG/First4Internet follows. Yes, the irony is thick: this technology that Sony BMG still claims is necessary to protect its intellectual property, apparently violates other's intellectual property{...}
Yes, kids, you read that one right: the only copyrights that matter are Sony's.
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After an unusally balmy autumn, the Twin Cities are bracing for the first significant snowfall since March with up to 5 inches of snow scheduled to pile up by midday Tuesday.The entire state of Minnesota and much of western Wisconsin is currently under a winter storm watch.
For the Twin Cities, rain is expected tonight, turning to snow after 9 p.m. Tuesday's rush hours are likely to be tortured, with 3 to 5 inches possible by late evening Tuesday, compounded by strong winds gusting toward 30 miles per hour.
Winds are expected to continue to roar into Wednesday, with falling temperatures producing subzero windchills. The predicted low temperature for Tuesday is 24 degrees, but for Wednesday it's predicted to fall to 12 degrees. {...}
Oh, yay. Can't hardly wait!
/sarcasm
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02:20 PM
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If you are interested, read on after the jump.
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12:48 PM
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November 11, 2005
Two words describe it quite well: deliciously bitchy.
{...}What would Mr. Bennet make of the film? He would be left wondering, I suspect, why God gave him only two eyebrows to raise. Let us not even ponder the likely reactions of Lady Catherine de Bourgh (Judi Dench), Darcy’s glacier of an aunt, or those of Mr. Collins (Tom Hollander), the reverend munchkin who resides on Lady Catherine’s estate and slithers beneath her gaze. What they would find incomprehensible in the movie is not the storytelling, which charts with commendable briskness the motions of various hearts, but the prevailing mood. Who is this figure, complete with steed and flying cape, who canters through the dusky woods as if eager to get home before the moon turns him into a wolf? Why, it is our friend Mr. Darcy, who has just popped round to deliver a letter. What is the purpose of this tangerine glow that fills the screen? Has the movie taken an unheralded commercial break, in which tanning lotion is being hawked to the audience? No, this is the view from inside Lizzie’s closed eyelids on a sunny day. And whence this knocking at the door after dark, which brings the nightshirted Bennets downstairs with quivering candles? It is Lady Catherine, come to bawl and bark at Lizzie in a surprising reënactment of the drill-sergeant routine from “Full Metal Jacket.”What has happened is perfectly clear: Jane Austen has been Brontëfied. In the book, Lady Catherine appears in daylight, “too early in the morning for visitors.” The film has rightly kept the hint of social insolence but switched the hour, so that the dramatic may be shaded and inked into melodrama. The question is not whether the director was justified in that transmutation but whether he had the choice; whether any of us, as moviemakers, viewers, or readers, retain the ability—not so much the scholarly equipment as the imaginative clairvoyance—to see Austen clearly. Maybe we are doomed to view her through the smoked glass of the intervening centuries, during which the spirit of romance, and the role of the body within it, have evolved out of all recognition. Why, when Lizzie accompanies her aunt and uncle to the Peak District of England, should the film take care to set her silent upon a peak, her dress and tresses stirring in the wind, if not to drop the clanging hint that Mr. Darcy is less an icy gentleman of means than a britches-busting Heathcliff in the making?{...}
Make sure you read the whole thing.
I have said it before, I will say it again: if you are watching any version of Pride and Prejudice other than this one, you are missing out. This is easily one of the best---if not the best---projects that television, let alone the Beeb, has ever produced. If you are one of those people who moans and groans about the liberties taken with books that are adapted for either the small or large screen, know that for once (!!!!) they finally stayed true to a book and did it up right. It's an adaptation truly worthy of the novel. The novel is, in my humble opinion, Austen's best, so it is quite perfect, in the scheme of that thing called universal justice, that such a great novel would have a worthy adaptation. This miniseries hit every note perfectly.
And besides, why would you want to see this stupid new version when it's pretty darn obvious that Matthew MacFayden can't carry the ruffles off like this guy can?
QED
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10:48 PM
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by Father Edward O'Brien
USMC
It is the soldier, not the reporter,
Who has given us freedom of the press.
It is the soldier, not the poet,
Who has given us freedom of speech.
It is the soldier, not the campus organizer,
Who has given us the freedom to demonstrate.
It is the solider who salutes the flag,
Who serves beneath the flag, and whose coffin is draped by the flag
Who allows the protesters to burn the flag.
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10:26 AM
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LONDON - A Boeing Co. jet arrived in London from Hong Kong on Thursday, breaking the record for the longest nonstop flight by a commercial jet. The 777-200LR Worldliner — one of Boeing's newest planes — touched down shortly after 1 p.m. (8 a.m. EST) at London's Heathrow Airport after a journey of more than 13,422 miles. The previous record was set when a Boeing 747-400 flew 10,500 miles from London to Sydney in 1989.A representative of Guinness World Records, which monitored the flight, presented Boeing's Lars Andersen with a certificate confirming it was for the longest nonstop commercial flight.
{...}The jet spent 22 hours and 43 minutes in the air.{...}
I find I must second the thoughts of my Maximum Leader on this topic: "Hey Airbus Industries! Stick that in your pipe and smoke it!"
Although, my God in heaven, that would be a really long time to spend on a plane. I sincerely hope they have a really good movie selection. It would probably help if they dedicated a few planes for smoking flights only. I can see where a smoker would get violent at twenty-two hours without nicotine.
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November 10, 2005
VIRGINIA BEACH, Va. - Religious broadcaster Pat Robertson warned residents of a rural Pennsylvania town Thursday that disaster may strike there because they "voted God out of your city" by ousting school board members who favored teaching intelligent design.All eight Dover, Pa., school board members up for re-election were defeated Tuesday after trying to introduce "intelligent design" — the belief that the universe is so complex that it must have been created by a higher power — as an alternative to the theory of evolution.
"I'd like to say to the good citizens of Dover: If there is a disaster in your area, don't turn to God. You just rejected him from your city," Robertson said on the Christian Broadcasting Network's "700 Club."{...}
Yeah, I know. It's Pat Robertson. But still...
On a somewhat related aside: is this Robertson's fourth smiting this year? Or is it his fifth? I've lost track.
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11:22 PM
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The Strib has a pretty cool section on said unnamed boat today, too.
I'm sure you're asking why I don't want to name the boat. Well, see, here's the thing: I'm a firm believer that Gordon Lightfoot is eviiiiilllll (as in "the d-evil made me do it") and if I name the damn boat, well, the song that details the tale of said big boat will start playing in my head and no one really needs that, right? Because I will start to go insane. I'll start sticking stuff in my ears to try and get the damn thing to get out. When that doesn't work, I will start playing Anthrax's and Public Enemy's version of "Bring the Noise" from Attack of the Killer B's at high volume to try and rid myself of Mr. Lightfoot. This will bring my very cool landlord upstairs to complain about the noise. I will start screaming at him that, no, I can't turn down the Anthrax because I need to either play this or slit my wrists because Gordon Lightfoot is possessing my ears. Given the fact that the landlord is just that much younger than I am and will probably have no idea who the hell Gordon Lightfoot is, he will call the Cake Eater police and will try to have me committed because he fears I'm a danger to myself and others.
So, I'm not naming that tune/boat, ya dig? Really. I'm sparing everyone the trouble.
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05:36 PM
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Posted by: Kathy at
11:58 AM
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I wonder if it's part of the job requirement.
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11:13 AM
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Oh, holy hell.
Well. since "sexy" has come to mean and encompass so many things over the years, I thought I'd get back to basics and go to the dictionary and see precisely what we're talking about here.
Ahem.
Courtesy of the Oxford Desk Dictionary and Thesaurus we have this definition...
Sexy: /seksee/ adj. (sexier, sexiest) 1.sexually attractive or stimulating. 2. sexually aroused
Ok, so basically we find out that I was wrong to go looking for an older, less relevant definition. Sexy is still about what gets you to think about getting your rocks off.
Now this, as you, my devoted Cake Eater Readers, have undoubtedly figured out is a tricky proposition. Because there is the sexy that zeroes in exclusively on your hormones, and there is sexy that brings your brain---and by way of the way your body works, your hormones---into it. These need not be mutually exclusive, but sometimes they just are. Because sometimes you just don't want to bring your brain into it.
Ahem.
Anyway, you people are probably wondering when I'm going to get around to letting you know what you, if you're a man, can do to attract me in the non-brainy sort of way. Of course we're talking hypothetically here, because the husband wouldn't enjoy that. But...if we're just speaking for the sake of hypotheticals, and I were to ruminate on the physical variant of sexy---the one that gets the hormones to humming---without getting too specific, I would have to refer you to an experience I had on 1-35 in K.C. during the summer of 1994. You'd be a beautiful man, probably around 6'4", ripped, but not overly beefy, in a pair of basketball shorts---and nothing else---driving a Jeep Wrangler through eighty-five m.p.h. traffic. You'd also be very sweaty. A basketball would be sitting in the passenger seat of the jeep, the seatbelt lovingly holding it in place and saving the windshields of other cars from its wrath. Did I mention that this jeep only had a bikini top on it? I didn't? Well, it did. Did I also mention you would be cruising through traffic, like you were in search of a cold breeze and that jeep was going to find it for you? I didn't? Well, you did. It was, hypothetically speaking, one of those moments where I, quite literally, STOPPED BREATHING. And then the hormones started throbbing, like someone had hooked me up to a subwoofer.
Oh, and hypothetically speaking, I can still remember how good your abs looked. It was like you were cast, rather than born.
{Insert hypothetical fanning of self here}
Anyway I should probably let you know that if you were, indeed, hypothetical basketball playing dude, I would be pretty surprised if you could walk, talk and chew gum at the same time. My standards for you would not be very high. No sirreee. You'd have to know how to do one thing very well.
And that's about it. Anything else would be gravy.
Now we move on to the brain aspect of sexy, because, really and truly there is nothing quite so sexy, in my humble opinion, than a man with a big brain. While I will be honest and say I cannot handle an Einstein, I do appreciate men who have large I.Q's---so long as they don't turn the logic sword on me, the girl who has very little of it. I appreciate the man who can use that knowledge for the good of themselves and other people. I also appreciate a man who can make me laugh. Wit is very sexy---and anyone who says differently has no idea what they're talking about. I should also note that holding a great deal of common sense is sexy as well.
No, for my money, while it's all very well and good to stare at basketball players, those abs aren't going to keep a girl interested for very long. I shall also add that if one has a really great brain that will get the hormones to pumping just as effectively as a half-naked, sweaty basketball player in a Jeep Wrangler would.
Anyhoo, now that I've thoroughly humiliated myself, scoot along and see what the other daring and darling divas find sexy. Then you can pop over to Sheila's place because I'm sure she's got something worthwhile to add to the mix. The Men's Club is, of course, up to bat this week as well. Stiggy, Phin, The Foreign Minister and Jamesyboy have, of course, thrown their two cents in, as has Nugget.
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November 09, 2005
Choice cuts that provoke the onset of weeping:
{...}But then, Wright {Ed. the director} was sent the script to Pride & Prejudice. "I read it in the pub one Sunday afternoon," he recalls, "and by about page 60, I was weeping into my pints of lager. And I was laughing out loud as well and surprised by that."That's when Wright finally checked out the source material. "I read the novel and I was shocked by what an extraordinary piece of observation it was. How honest and truthful its writing was. I was also shocked by the ages of the characters (Elizabeth is 20 and Darcy is 2
. It struck me that these were young people experiencing these emotions for the first time."{...}
He read it at the pub? Are you kidding me? You don't read a script for a Jane Austen movie at the pub! You prepare yourself a pot of tea, pull some biscuits out of a tin and put them on a plate, you settle yourself down in your garden and then you read it. The nerve of the man!
Never mind how you can get to thirty-three-years old and never have read Pride and Prejudice. Never mind the blatant cultural degeneracy that's on display here. That's apparently another complaint for another day.
{...}Wright went with the Darcy he saw in his head, a vulnerable young man with big responsibilities after the death of his parents who suffers from a lack of social graces. "He put on a suit of manhood that didn't quite fit him," he says, "and Elizabeth teaches him how to be a man."
A suit of manhood that didn't quite fit him? What in bleedin' hell are you talking about? Just because your adolescence was extended to your thirties doesn't mean that Darcy was afforded the same luxury. A lack of social graces? You must be joking? Seriously, now. No one can honestly say that Darcy lacked social graces. He was rich enough that the graces molded themselves around him, not the other way round. That's the way it was in those days---and is much the way it is today, still. That was one of the points that Austen was trying to make. Like, duh.
{...}"We had the Bennet giggle," says Knightley of the way she and the four actresses who played her sisters set the mood before each scene. "It's a high-pitched, screaming, chaotic monkey-like giggle that would get us into it. Joe wanted us to always speak over each other so you got the feeling of people who are so used to each other, they don't even listen anymore. I do think it will make it more accessible."
Jane and Lizzie spoke over the others? Now, Kitty, Lydia and Mrs. Bennet. I can understand these characters speaking over one another. But adding Jane and Lizzie to the shrill cacophany of the rest of the Bennets?
Ummm, no. That's just not going to fly.
{...}Most memorably, the movie replaces Elizabeth's view-altering tour of a portrait gallery inside Darcy's Pemberley estate with a stroll through a maze of alabaster nude sculptures, her eyes devouring their voluptuous beauty."I have an issue with the book, which a lot of people also have," Wright says. "Why is it, when Elizabeth goes to Pemberley, she finally accepts she likes Darcy? Is it because of his wealth? What I was hoping to achieve was a sense of her appreciating his cultural sensitivity."
Oh, for the love of all that is good and holy. It's not the house that changes Lizzie's mind about Darcy, you fools! Remember Wickham? Remember Wickham laying off a false story about Darcy on Lizzie, wherein Wickham was the hero and Darcy the villain? Remember Lizzie refusing Darcy's first proposal because she thought the story Wickham had fed her was true? Remember the letter Darcy sent Lizzie to set the record straight? Remember the housekeeper telling Lizzie a patently different tale about her master when she toured Pemberly with the Gardiners?
Lizzie's change of heart had nothing to do with the money. If her refusal didn't have anything to do with his wealth, why would her acceptance be any different? Furthermore, this is business about "her appreciating his cultural sensitivity" is complete and utter rot. And I can prove it.
"Elizabeth's mind was too full for conversation, but she saw and admired every remarkable spot and point of view. They gradually ascended for half a mile, and then found themselves at the top of a considerable eminence, where the wood ceased, and the eye was instantly caught by Pemberley House, situatied on the opposite side of the valley, into which the road with some abruptness wound. It was a large, handsome, stone building, standing well on rising ground, and backed by a ridge of high woody hills;---and in front, a stream of some natural importance was swelled into greater, but without any artificial appearance. Its banks were neither formal, nor falsely adorned. Elizabeth was delighted. She had never seen a place for which nature had done more, or where natural beauty had been so little counteracted by an awkward taste. They awere all of them so warm in their admiration; and at that moment she felt that to be mistress of Pemberly might be something!{...}The housekeeper came; a respectable-looking, elderly woman, much less fine, and more civil, than she had any notion of finding her. They followed her into the dining-parlour. It was a large, well-proportioned room, handsomely fitted up. Elizabeth, after slightly surveying it, went to a window to enjoy its prospect. The hill, crowned with wood, from which they had descended, receiving increased abruptness from the distance, was a beautiful object. Every disposition of the ground was good; and she looked on the whole scene, the river, the trees scattered on its banks, and the winding of the valley, as far as she could trace it, with delight. As they passed into other rooms, these objects were taking different positions; but from every window there were beauties to be seen. The rooms were lofty and handsome, and their furniture suitable to the fortune of their proprietor; but Elizabeth saw, with admiration of his taste, that it was neither gaudy nor uselessly fine; with less of spendor and more real elegance, than the furniture of Rosings.{...}
---Chapter 45, Pride and Prejudice
Given this passage, it's apparent that Darcy would sooner have a gallery of nude sculptures on the grounds of Pemberly as Jimmy Carter would welcome a bunny rabbit into his house.
And then we come to the real problem I have with this article:
The one picture they include of Colin Firth isn't anywhere as good as this one.
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01:24 PM
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{...}Going gray is like ejaculation. You know it can happen prematurely, but when it actually does, it's a total shock.{...}
I don't know about you, but I feel so much better about the future of CNN!
{Hat tip: Steve-o}
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November 08, 2005
- It's Cotillion Tuesday, so shuffle on over to Not A Desperate Houswife's place and read.
- Phin's perversion is on the same wavelength as mine. I've been waiting for someone to point this out. Thank God Phin saved us all by bothering to post that observation.
And while you're over at Phin's, make sure you read this post regarding Operation Enduring Service, which is a plan to save a few Fulton Class ships from obsolesence for use in hurricane relief efforts. Calls and emails to senators and congresspeople are required. Shuffle along and do some good. You owe it to Phin as he made the Paris Hilton observation.
- And while we're talking about doing good, because you know you were bad last weekend and are feeling the need to atone, Soldiers Angels is participating in a fundraising drive for Project Valour-IT, which is, according to the email I received last week (my bad) :
Project Valour-IT, in memory of SFC William V. Ziegenfuss, provides voice-controlled software and laptop computers to wounded Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen and Marines recovering from hand and arm injuries or amputations at major military medical centers. Operating laptops by speaking into a microphone, our wounded heroes are able to send and receive messages from friends and loved ones, surf the 'Net, and communicate with buddies still in the field without having to press a key or move a mouse. The experience of CPT Charles "Chuck" Ziegenfuss, a partner in the project who suffered hand wounds while serving in Iraq, illustrates how important this voice-controlled software can be to a wounded servicemember's recovery.
A worthy cause, no?
- Everyone's favorite commie pinko will be giving away prizes to the millionth visitor to his blog. Perhaps you could win something. I hear they're good, too. No free cars, but free stuff is free stuff, right? A can of silly string is just as good as a Mercedes covertible. RUSH RIGHT OVER, YA HEAR AND WISH HIM WELL. and no he's not really handing out prizes. I just felt the need to make his life difficult.
That should do it for me. If you have something you'd like to promote (other than dissertations on penis/breast enhancement and the like) throw it into the comments.
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11:29 PM
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