Monthly Archives: February 2012

I’m a Daydream Believer, Davy

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As everyone probably already knows, Davy Jones of the Monkees is dead.

I am not too young to care.

The TV news shows are only playing two songs–”Daydream Believer” and “I’m a Believer.” These are great tunes, believe me, but if you only know those and the Monkees theme song, you’re missing out.

When I was a kid my dad had a great tape that was some sort of “best of” the Monkees and we listened to it fairly often. It’s “A Little Bit Me, A Little Bit You.” I loved “Valleri” and I wanted to take the “Last Train to Clarksville,” and I sure didn’t want to be anyone’s “Steppin’ Stone,” though I wouldn’t have minded having a “Pleasant Valley Sunday.”

It took me a while to understand that “Kicks” was about drugs, and then I couldn’t really imagine why anyone would want any, because drugs were so obviously bad. My opinion on this hasn’t really changed a lot. What can I say? “That Was Then, This Is Now.”

And who can forget “The Girl That I Knew Somewhere“?

 

Weird Ailments and Soviet Propaganda

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It’s not easy being green, but it’s also apparently not easy being blue. Just ask the Fugate family of Kentucky, who have a rare genetic condition that causes them to be, well. Blue. Fortunately, they’re otherwise pretty much okay.

Here’s an ailment you probably don’t have: bicycle face. That’s what you get when you ride on those newfangled contraptions instead of having the sense to walk or ride a horse. If you think that’s too silly, try television neck on for size.

Really.

A bit of mild profanity in this wonderful tale of the most awesome obituary ever run, courtesy of Romenesko. This is about the man who was described by the Washington Post thusly: He was variously a shark fighter, ocelot hunter, mink farm operator and authority on baccarat.

And he was pirate, too. He once tried to commit suicide by jaguar.

Really.

And finally, here’s some lovely Soviet propaganda. Read it, enjoy, and stay away from bicycles.

Oh, Ugh…. Not Again

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I’ll be moving again next month.

I shudder to think about it, honestly, even though it’ll be just across town. Moving is a special sort of suffering, in which you have to pay for two places at the same time and also, clean one of them really, really thoroughly.

This isn’t that big of a deal in this case, but somehow I have reached the age of 31 without learning how to clean an oven, my vacuum cleaner and I are barely on speaking terms and I don’t even know where my Windex has gone.

It probably left me for someone with more mirrors.

 

Job Shadowing

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Job shadowing. It’s new to me and my school.

This is a guest post. My name is AurorA Bear, and I’m a freshman at Montpelier Public School. Last week our career counselor decided to send us all out on a job shadow for the first time in years.

I, being the writer-y person that I am, was sent to the Jamestown Sun. As part of the job shadow, I was invited to write a guest post.

To be honest, I was a little nervous, especially considering I’m the only one who went to the Jamestown Sun, but it’s actually been kind of fun. The entire experience has been… different than what I’m used to.

I’ve actually learned quite a bit. I’ve never really thought much about journalism, but it seems a lot different than my original thoughts on it. It seems a lot more free. In movies and such you see evil editors and extreme silence all of the time. From what I’ve been told today, that’s not true.

I’ve always known I needed another  job to support my novel-writing pursuits. Journalism has now been added to my list of possibilities.

AurorA

Happy Viking Day!

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Pillage and plunder and loot your hearts out, today, my friends, for it is Viking Day, the day upon which we celebrate our Scandinavian heritage (or lack thereof) and steal candy and flowers from everybody else!

Viking Day is a widely-celebrated holiday, in which people buy flowers and candy and exchange them as weregild, as the ancient customs of our people dictate. The colors of this violent and dangerous holiday are, of course, red (for blood) and pink (for entrails).

Now, as we are all Midwesterners, it is, of course, important to pillage politely.

Underwear Mini-Golf Babies in Japan

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I had a virus on my personal laptop over the weekend, and while I was running a virus scan I noticed a number of thoroughly bizarre file names in the temporary internet files folder. These files get automatically saved, I think, when you browse.

I’m assuming most of the weird file names were from ads, because I’m very certain I’ve never actually deliberately looked for “organics for babies.” I don’t have any babies. If I did, I’m not sure I’d give them organics anyway. I don’t know why a file with that name was in my temp file.

There were weirder things in there than that, though. There was a file called “wonderputt.” I haven’t golfed since high school, and I was pretty bad at putting when I did, given that we practiced on sand greens. Then again, maybe that’s why advertisers spontaneously decided I needed a wonderputt, whatever that is.

Then there was a file called “kanji,” which I think means my computer is hanging out in Japan, or at least in the Japan-loving part of the Internet. It’s doing that behind my back, by the way, and has never offered to share any sushi with me.

And then there was that file called “underwear.” I haven’t ever looked that up online either, and can only presume that it was an ad on Target.com or somewhere I do go.

Either that, or my computer is sneaking out during the day to play mini-golf with an underwear-wearing baby who loves organics and is learning to speak Japanese.

A Kitchen to Blind the Eyes

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Feast your eyes on what may be the brightest and most painful kitchen ever made. Can you imagine chopping onions in the kitchen shown at left? You’d go blind in there. But wait, there’s more horror ahead! (From Retronaut, via BoingBoing.)

I seriously don’t know if the entire nation went spontaneously insane in the 1970s or what, but how did anyone make it out of that decade with eyeballs still intact?

My assistant editor said it looked like somebody threw Barbie in a blender and used her as paint. I can’t imagine anybody older than 12 in this kitchen, or anybody male.

For a less blinding, more run-down historical gallery, check out this abandoned hospital, on an island that was once home to Typhoid Mary. The real one.

And here’s some classic paintings reimagined as sci-fi classics, just for fun. It includes C-3P0 Descending a Staircase.

Fallout in Iowa

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Remember that guy who hates Iowa, Stephen G. Bloom? Today I found a few more interesting reactions to him, some of which are rated PG and one of which has some pretty heavy cussin’, which I will distinguish as such.

  • Kyle Munson of the Des Moines Register thinks Bloom should have expected people to flip out.
  • Bloom’s piece was riddled with factual errors as well as a generally unpleasant tone. Scroll down on this page to see them all. Incidentally, I don’t know a lot of Iowans who would use the B-word to a stranger, even in its proper use referring to a female dog.
  • Fellow professor Peter Feldstein writes in the Press-Citizen that he now wishes Bloom’s name wasn’t on his book, and has a number of gently reproachful things to say about the whole thing.
  • Allie Wright, one of Bloom’s students, notes for the record on USAToday that she is not a waste-oid, and adds she will not be taking any more of Bloom’s classes.
  • Vietnamese Iowan Kim Bui especially objected to the idea that Iowans are only there waiting to die, and writes a spirited defense of her beloved home state on Southern California Public Radio.
  • And finally, for those of you who do not object to profanity, there is a parody Twitter account that is definitely not the real Stephen Bloom. There’s a lot of profanity, including quite a few drops of the F-bomber, and there’s also a lot of mockery of Bloom. Do not click on this link if that bothers you.