Belaud
"OH MY GOD! Your blog has changed my life! Thank you so much! I read your blog daily when I first get up in the morning and it helps me get through the day. My son was just a lazy dope-smoking slacker, but since he's been reading your blog, he's gone back to school, got his SEC Series 7 and can open a dentist practice in eight states. My car runs better and my dog no longer pees on the rug. Thank you for creating this blog and allowing us to glimpse into your fascinating life. You are a witty and wise person and I thank you for all you've done for me and my family - both biological and chosen."
Yep, happens all the time.
Unfortunately not to me, but I don't know, maybe someone...somewhere.
Luckily, I'm not after immediate gratification. I write this because I want to make sure I have my place secure in internet and cultural history. I haven't mentioned this before, but when I get done writing an entry, I print out three copies - I send one to The Smithsonian Institute, one to The Library of Congress, and the third to The Center for Lesbian and Gay Studies. I make sure to put "Donation" on each of the envelopes and on the cover letter that accompanies each. I am thus part of the historical collections at three different entities.
"But what if they just throw your stuff away?" you may query.
Good question; I'm glad you asked. Have you ever been around librarians and/or curators of any sort? They hate throwing things away - especially things that are "donations." It's not that they don't want to throw things away, their brains are literally hard-wired in such a way that they can't throw things away. That's why their offices are always such a mess- it's always stuff that should be tossed, but they just can't quite do it. So while my papers may be "lost" in some office now, the day will come when an intern is asked to catalog everything. Said intern will see page after page of my writings, assume that they're part of a series the institute collects, and I'll have a lovely scanned home for my lovely scanned writings just waiting to be discovered and discussed in the scholarly journals of tomorrow. Wanna live forever? Just gotta know how to use the system.
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
Monday, August 27, 2012
Sedulous
Sedulous
This morning I saw on Facebook a posting from a woman who wrote "ADVENTURE!" and then had a link to The House on the Rock. There is a bit of a conversation under it which ended with her telling a friend if "you haven't been there, you absolutely must go. You'd love it." Uh oh. I really want to respond to this, but how? Hey, I hope yer being ironic! But what is she wasn't? What if she thought HotR was actually some sort of cultural phenomenon that should be experienced in all its wonders*?
If you haven't been to House on the Rock <- read this. I'll wait.
Done? Welcome back!
I went to the House a couple times when I was a kid and it was fascinating. It was a beautiful collection of stuff that made my young mind explode in wonder. My parents loved it. I even went once by myself when I was around 20 and was impressed. Have my tastes changed that much, or has the whole place just recently gone to sensory-overload hell? I swear, when I was younger, there was the House and then you walked to the collections. Now there's so much crap, there are collections in the House! Seriously, you want to see architectural coolness? This is so not the place. And the whole place really really needs to be dusted. Boy, that would keep an army of house cleaners busy for months. Oh, and all those musical rooms with the "player" animatrons? I coulda sworn when I was younger they actually played. Lord knows it would cost a fortune to keep all the stringed instruments in tune, but they could at least fake it. Half the strings aren't even attached to their instrument - they might be at one end, but the other end just hangs there, impotently, with the bow going over, well, nothing.
So I know what you're saying. You're saying, "Hey Briedank, what does any of this have to do with sedulous?"
I'll tell you what this has to do with sedulous. See the picture in the upper left corner? Upon coming to that, the 'sband uttered,
"Oh, god..." and his face fell visibly in despair.
That's right, the true definition of sedulous is walking through all the House on the Rock exhibits without either A) speeding up and staring straight ahead to avoid the hell that's trying to force its attentions upon you, or, B) collapsing into a heap and sobbing for security to come and show you the short cut to the end.**
When we were there, the main demographic was younger families - you know, mom, dad and a coupla kids. I really wanted to ask them what they thought. They didn't really seem like the type to spend close to a hundred bucks for a day of irony. But, good news (thankfully), the Facebook entry was indeed meant ironically.
PS: After a discussion with the woman on Facebook, I feel the need to add the addendum:
"I regret to inform you, that I was not being ironic in the least. :) I adored the place, and it's right up Gabe's alley of interest in weird shit. I am not sure who the intended audience is--I could see it both fascinating and terrifying children. I could see adults bored to tears and/or feeling took, trapped in the labyrinth of some madman's illusory dreamscape cruel joke (at cost). But I enjoyed having my senses smashed to bits, and was entirely, intriguingly disoriented by the questionable authenticity of anything. It was great! and fitting for our fractured times. I've long been fascinating by the history of (our ideas about) the future. This was like the reverse--a museum of fantasy antiquity. LOVED IT."
It's so odd when I meet someone who thinks differently than I do...or was that just me being ironic...??
*Or perhaps "wonders" is more appropriate.
**And you thought shortcuts at Ikea were useful!
If you haven't been to House on the Rock <- read this. I'll wait.
Done? Welcome back!
I went to the House a couple times when I was a kid and it was fascinating. It was a beautiful collection of stuff that made my young mind explode in wonder. My parents loved it. I even went once by myself when I was around 20 and was impressed. Have my tastes changed that much, or has the whole place just recently gone to sensory-overload hell? I swear, when I was younger, there was the House and then you walked to the collections. Now there's so much crap, there are collections in the House! Seriously, you want to see architectural coolness? This is so not the place. And the whole place really really needs to be dusted. Boy, that would keep an army of house cleaners busy for months. Oh, and all those musical rooms with the "player" animatrons? I coulda sworn when I was younger they actually played. Lord knows it would cost a fortune to keep all the stringed instruments in tune, but they could at least fake it. Half the strings aren't even attached to their instrument - they might be at one end, but the other end just hangs there, impotently, with the bow going over, well, nothing.
So I know what you're saying. You're saying, "Hey Briedank, what does any of this have to do with sedulous?"
I'll tell you what this has to do with sedulous. See the picture in the upper left corner? Upon coming to that, the 'sband uttered,
"Oh, god..." and his face fell visibly in despair.
That's right, the true definition of sedulous is walking through all the House on the Rock exhibits without either A) speeding up and staring straight ahead to avoid the hell that's trying to force its attentions upon you, or, B) collapsing into a heap and sobbing for security to come and show you the short cut to the end.**
When we were there, the main demographic was younger families - you know, mom, dad and a coupla kids. I really wanted to ask them what they thought. They didn't really seem like the type to spend close to a hundred bucks for a day of irony. But, good news (thankfully), the Facebook entry was indeed meant ironically.
PS: After a discussion with the woman on Facebook, I feel the need to add the addendum:
"I regret to inform you, that I was not being ironic in the least. :) I adored the place, and it's right up Gabe's alley of interest in weird shit. I am not sure who the intended audience is--I could see it both fascinating and terrifying children. I could see adults bored to tears and/or feeling took, trapped in the labyrinth of some madman's illusory dreamscape cruel joke (at cost). But I enjoyed having my senses smashed to bits, and was entirely, intriguingly disoriented by the questionable authenticity of anything. It was great! and fitting for our fractured times. I've long been fascinating by the history of (our ideas about) the future. This was like the reverse--a museum of fantasy antiquity. LOVED IT."
It's so odd when I meet someone who thinks differently than I do...or was that just me being ironic...??
*Or perhaps "wonders" is more appropriate.
**And you thought shortcuts at Ikea were useful!
Friday, August 24, 2012
Dundrearies
Dundrearies
Yea, they're Done Dreary alright. I hate long bushy sideburns! I wonder if you grew them long enough if you could turn them into dreadlocks. Get some extensions woven into them. Maybe some nice vintage multi-colored yarn, or perhaps if you're a real man, some multi-colored telephone/computer cable. Or to prove that you're really a true man, some twisted duct tape. Yea, that would be neat. People would ask you questions that they knew you'd answer negatively just to watch you shake your extensions back and forth. And every time you did you get a little massage on your neck from the slapping of the cables. But it would be just enough to get the blood flowing without really hurting. But that would lead to an extension addiction and you'd grow your beard out and get stuff woven into that and you'd get all kinds of long beaded cords and yards of straw woven in and would become a professional hula dancer and you'd never put on your skivvies cuz hell, it's not like anyone can see through all the straw and cords hanging from your beard but you forgot that you didn't have any extensions put on the backside of your head and you'd get arrested for walking around with your South Side flopping in the wind but by this time you don't care - you're a rebel, man, ain't no way The Man gonna make you wear pants - besides you got a gig to get to - the cats are waiting for you to do your hula dancing at that hip new spot all the hip cats are going to - the Hip Hip Hooray Club where "If you're ain't hip, you're a drip" and your people have gathered to watch you, but of course that cop, he don't care cuz he's just workin' for The Man and he takes you downtown to the Big House where you spend the night with two winos and some guy that thinks you're some sort of savior cuz man, you're giving off the vibe and what does he have to do to be saved, but you just ignore him - you don't have time for that kind of jive, you need to get outa here but that don't happen til the next morning - the next morning she comes - you know - the moll with the gams from here to next Arbor Day and you look at her and it suddenly seems like you been in the slammer fer so long that you think you never gonna see anything like that and yet here she is and she's ready to sign, seal, and deliver you - deliver you right out of that Popsicle stand and when you leave with the dame the sun is coming up and there's litter blowing across the streets and one-night stands on their walk of shame and you have no idea who she is or where she came from, but she's got a job for you, see, a job you can't refuse - a job you don't want to refuse, cuz you've always been a sucker for a 38 27 38 and here she is leading you to the unexplored side of town where you ain't never been.. And that's how you got to be the receptionist at Great Clips.
 |
| "Hello, I'm Mr. Dundreary. How are you? I am fine. I have a monocle stuck in my eyelid. Pity, that." |
Thursday, August 23, 2012
Dyslogistic
Dyslogistic
Did you see the end of the Did You Know? section?
"And even today the word is likely to be encountered in judicial and intellectual writings."
Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa????
Are you saying that just because I never see dyslogistic being used in NASCAR Harlequin Romances that NASCAR Harlequin Romances aren't intellectual? Freaking snobs.
It is rather odd that the word comes from the combination that gave us 'dyseulogy.'
"We now bow our heads to remember...uh...anyone know who the guy is? Ah screw it...is the luncheon ready? I hope the guy wasn't Jewish, I have a hankerin' fer ham."
"Hankering"
Wow, now THERE is a totally cool word!! It's best said with a Wisconsin accent:
"haaaaaaaaaeeeeeeeeeenkerin'"
Really get that A up there in your sinuses. Say with a wide open-mouthed smile. Force as much air as possible through your nose when saying it. Now yer talkin' like someone from Wisconsin! (And, yes, I would/could/should know.)
You know I try not to talk about myself too much in the column - I mean, I really try to keep it about the words. BUT! If there is one thing I've come to appreciate, it's hearing people trying to pronounce the names of towns in Wisconsin. When yer from there, it just all seems so obvious. But evidently...
You know what I really sometimes get a hankerin' for? Yea...*
*Hey, I wasn't going to, but, well, you know who you are!!!
PS: I seem to have gotten some hits from the Ukraine. Well, to welcome my new friends, I offer you this translation of the above:
Ви бачили, до кінця знаєте ви? розділ?
"І навіть сьогодні слово, ймовірно, буде виявлено в ході судових та інтелектуальні праці."
Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa??
Ви кажете, що тільки тому, що я ніколи не бачив несхвальний використовується в NASCAR Арлекін романси Це NASCAR Арлекін романси не інтелектуал? Freaking снобів.
Це досить дивно, що слово походить від поєднання 'dyseulogy.'
"Зараз ми схиляємо голови перед пам'ятаю ... е-е ... хто знає, хто цей хлопець? Ах гвинт це ... це обід готовий? Я сподіваюся, що хлопець не був євреєм, у мене є hankerin" ТЕР шинки."
"Жагуче бажання" Ух ти, зараз Існує абсолютно здорово слово! Найкраще сказав з акцентом Вісконсін:
"haaaaaaaaaeeeeeeeeeenkerin"
Дійсно отримаємо, що там, у вашій пазух. Скажіть з широко відкритим ротом посмішку. Змусити стільки повітря, скільки можливо через ніс, коли говорив це. Тепер, як хтось вибору говориш з Вісконсіна! (І, так, я б / може / мусить знати.)
Ви знаєте, я намагаюся не говорити про себе багато в колонці - я маю на увазі, я справді намагаюся тримати його про слова. АЛЕ! Якщо є одна річ, яку я приїхав, щоб цінувати, він чує людей, які намагаються вимовляти назви міст в штаті Вісконсін.
Коли вибору звідти, це просто все здається таким очевидним. Але, мабуть, ... Ви знаєте, що я дійсно іноді hankerin "для? Да ...
** Ей, я не збираюся, але, ну, ви знаєте, хто ви є!
Did you see the end of the Did You Know? section?
"And even today the word is likely to be encountered in judicial and intellectual writings."
Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa????
Are you saying that just because I never see dyslogistic being used in NASCAR Harlequin Romances that NASCAR Harlequin Romances aren't intellectual? Freaking snobs.
It is rather odd that the word comes from the combination that gave us 'dyseulogy.'
"We now bow our heads to remember...uh...anyone know who the guy is? Ah screw it...is the luncheon ready? I hope the guy wasn't Jewish, I have a hankerin' fer ham."
"Hankering"
Wow, now THERE is a totally cool word!! It's best said with a Wisconsin accent:
"haaaaaaaaaeeeeeeeeeenkerin'"
Really get that A up there in your sinuses. Say with a wide open-mouthed smile. Force as much air as possible through your nose when saying it. Now yer talkin' like someone from Wisconsin! (And, yes, I would/could/should know.)
You know I try not to talk about myself too much in the column - I mean, I really try to keep it about the words. BUT! If there is one thing I've come to appreciate, it's hearing people trying to pronounce the names of towns in Wisconsin. When yer from there, it just all seems so obvious. But evidently...
You know what I really sometimes get a hankerin' for? Yea...*
*Hey, I wasn't going to, but, well, you know who you are!!!
PS: I seem to have gotten some hits from the Ukraine. Well, to welcome my new friends, I offer you this translation of the above:
Ви бачили, до кінця знаєте ви? розділ?
"І навіть сьогодні слово, ймовірно, буде виявлено в ході судових та інтелектуальні праці."
Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa??
Ви кажете, що тільки тому, що я ніколи не бачив несхвальний використовується в NASCAR Арлекін романси Це NASCAR Арлекін романси не інтелектуал? Freaking снобів.
Це досить дивно, що слово походить від поєднання 'dyseulogy.'
"Зараз ми схиляємо голови перед пам'ятаю ... е-е ... хто знає, хто цей хлопець? Ах гвинт це ... це обід готовий? Я сподіваюся, що хлопець не був євреєм, у мене є hankerin" ТЕР шинки."
"Жагуче бажання" Ух ти, зараз Існує абсолютно здорово слово! Найкраще сказав з акцентом Вісконсін:
"haaaaaaaaaeeeeeeeeeenkerin"
Дійсно отримаємо, що там, у вашій пазух. Скажіть з широко відкритим ротом посмішку. Змусити стільки повітря, скільки можливо через ніс, коли говорив це. Тепер, як хтось вибору говориш з Вісконсіна! (І, так, я б / може / мусить знати.)
Ви знаєте, я намагаюся не говорити про себе багато в колонці - я маю на увазі, я справді намагаюся тримати його про слова. АЛЕ! Якщо є одна річ, яку я приїхав, щоб цінувати, він чує людей, які намагаються вимовляти назви міст в штаті Вісконсін.
Коли вибору звідти, це просто все здається таким очевидним. Але, мабуть, ... Ви знаєте, що я дійсно іноді hankerin "для? Да ...
** Ей, я не збираюся, але, ну, ви знаєте, хто ви є!
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
Ramose
Ramose
Wow, talk about confusing. I did an image search and came up with all this Egyptian stuff. Here there was an Egyptian leader named Ramose. I thought they were all named Ramesses.
"Oh Moses....Moses, Moses, Moses. How many times must I tell you that your toeses are not roses? So let it be written; so let it be done. Oh by the way, Messala has a crush on you."
I like that ramose gave us 'ramify.' From now on whenever I hear something asking about 'the ramifications' I'm going to see tentacles growing out of the original suggestion. Is it just me, or are tentacles creepy? I'm not talking physical ones, just the metaphorical type. I think of ramifications as being tentacles and all of a sudden I get a panic attack.
"But if we change the font of the blog from a sans serif to a serif, do we know the ramifications?"
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH, we live in a universe of complete chaos, capriciousness, and unknowns! I can't go on!"
"Well, as a student of the school of pseudorandomness, I think I can help. Luckily I've brought along my linear congruential calculator which will tell us just how many ramoses could sprout from such a change."
"Bah-humbug! As a student of the frequency of interpretation of probability, the young man has every right to panic. We never know what the outcome of anything will be. The entire building will be covered with your ramoses, smothering us all. Neither font will do us any good if we're dead from suffocation!"
"I believe we must meditate and pray. Our energy will allow for a positive outcome. We can bring the universe into alignment that will allow for this font change to benefit all of humankind."
"You people are all freaking morons. Just freakin' do it, already. Who gives a crap? I got The Real Housewives of Des Moines waiting for me at home on TiVo."
Speaking of not thinking through the ramifications - me getting a board of directors to help run this blog was the biggest ramose grower of them all. Cripes.
Wow, talk about confusing. I did an image search and came up with all this Egyptian stuff. Here there was an Egyptian leader named Ramose. I thought they were all named Ramesses.
"Oh Moses....Moses, Moses, Moses. How many times must I tell you that your toeses are not roses? So let it be written; so let it be done. Oh by the way, Messala has a crush on you."
I like that ramose gave us 'ramify.' From now on whenever I hear something asking about 'the ramifications' I'm going to see tentacles growing out of the original suggestion. Is it just me, or are tentacles creepy? I'm not talking physical ones, just the metaphorical type. I think of ramifications as being tentacles and all of a sudden I get a panic attack.
"But if we change the font of the blog from a sans serif to a serif, do we know the ramifications?"
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH, we live in a universe of complete chaos, capriciousness, and unknowns! I can't go on!"
"Well, as a student of the school of pseudorandomness, I think I can help. Luckily I've brought along my linear congruential calculator which will tell us just how many ramoses could sprout from such a change."
"Bah-humbug! As a student of the frequency of interpretation of probability, the young man has every right to panic. We never know what the outcome of anything will be. The entire building will be covered with your ramoses, smothering us all. Neither font will do us any good if we're dead from suffocation!"
"I believe we must meditate and pray. Our energy will allow for a positive outcome. We can bring the universe into alignment that will allow for this font change to benefit all of humankind."
"You people are all freaking morons. Just freakin' do it, already. Who gives a crap? I got The Real Housewives of Des Moines waiting for me at home on TiVo."
Speaking of not thinking through the ramifications - me getting a board of directors to help run this blog was the biggest ramose grower of them all. Cripes.
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
De minimus
De minimus
"So, I hear the report you did was totally lame and only lasted a minute and a half."
"Yea, the teacher said he was gonna give me a de minimus."
This word makes me really happy. De minimus. It just bounces all over the mouth and gums when being said. De minimus. Be sure to hold the s for just a split second for balance and grounding - like the ending of a symphony. Now say it with your eyes half closed and then open them wide by the end of the s. And now say it while doing your most sexy snarl - like yer going in for some extreme animalistic naughtiness.* Really savor the s on this one. Di minimusssssssss. Say it thusly while watching this (yes, it's safe for work). Isn't that fun?
Did anyone else feel weird when O.N. John came out with that song? It seemed like all of her songs were so pure and wholesome and then she comes out with this. I found it rather unsettling. Not as unsettling as I found her character in Grease,** but still disconcerting. I've never understood, towards the end of the song when the word changes from 'physical' to 'enema.' "Let's get enema"? That sounds icky. Top 40 is so weird.
*And I mean with another human being - if yer mind went anywhere else because you saw the word 'animalistic' you're gross and sick.
**Grease has to be the ultimate virgin/whore story. If you don't know what I'm talking about, ask a feminist.
"So, I hear the report you did was totally lame and only lasted a minute and a half."
"Yea, the teacher said he was gonna give me a de minimus."
This word makes me really happy. De minimus. It just bounces all over the mouth and gums when being said. De minimus. Be sure to hold the s for just a split second for balance and grounding - like the ending of a symphony. Now say it with your eyes half closed and then open them wide by the end of the s. And now say it while doing your most sexy snarl - like yer going in for some extreme animalistic naughtiness.* Really savor the s on this one. Di minimusssssssss. Say it thusly while watching this (yes, it's safe for work). Isn't that fun?
Did anyone else feel weird when O.N. John came out with that song? It seemed like all of her songs were so pure and wholesome and then she comes out with this. I found it rather unsettling. Not as unsettling as I found her character in Grease,** but still disconcerting. I've never understood, towards the end of the song when the word changes from 'physical' to 'enema.' "Let's get enema"? That sounds icky. Top 40 is so weird.
*And I mean with another human being - if yer mind went anywhere else because you saw the word 'animalistic' you're gross and sick.
**Grease has to be the ultimate virgin/whore story. If you don't know what I'm talking about, ask a feminist.
Monday, August 20, 2012
Marplot
Marplot
Yikes, could you imagine being a marall? Now it would be a killall. Ouch.
You know I love my 'sband and I would never call him a maranything, but following is a list of things he stopped me from doing after we started dating. I always think it's fun to act a bit odd in public - keeps people on their toes and gives them something to talk about. But the following is a list of things I can no longer do:
1. Walk down the street with three facial tissues wadded up and shoved into my left nostril.
I would do that and then come home and laugh and laugh! And it never hurt anyone. I even got my picture taken a few times - I thought it was sort of fun. No one ever talked to me or posed for the photos with me, in fact it seemed like people were trying to sneak the picture. Heck, they shoulda just asked me to stand there and smile. We could've had a good chuckle over it. They evidently got the joke and were going to share it with friends.
"Hey, lookit this guy pulling a funny with the wadded tissue up his nose. What an imaginative person - he's going to make someone a great partner someday. If he's that entertaining in public, imagine how entertaining he must be at parties and other such social events. What a great guy to have for a friend. I wish he was my friend. My friends seem so boring in comparison. Darn it, why didn't I talk to him? I wonder if he's still standing there reading the phone book? Maybe I'll go back and see if he's still standing there reading the phone book."
Or some such thing.
Fine, I never read the phone book while doing it. I just thought of that at this point in time. Wish I had, tho, it would've added a whole new dimension. I never think of the really good stuff until the time is over.
Yikes, could you imagine being a marall? Now it would be a killall. Ouch.
You know I love my 'sband and I would never call him a maranything, but following is a list of things he stopped me from doing after we started dating. I always think it's fun to act a bit odd in public - keeps people on their toes and gives them something to talk about. But the following is a list of things I can no longer do:
1. Walk down the street with three facial tissues wadded up and shoved into my left nostril.
I would do that and then come home and laugh and laugh! And it never hurt anyone. I even got my picture taken a few times - I thought it was sort of fun. No one ever talked to me or posed for the photos with me, in fact it seemed like people were trying to sneak the picture. Heck, they shoulda just asked me to stand there and smile. We could've had a good chuckle over it. They evidently got the joke and were going to share it with friends.
"Hey, lookit this guy pulling a funny with the wadded tissue up his nose. What an imaginative person - he's going to make someone a great partner someday. If he's that entertaining in public, imagine how entertaining he must be at parties and other such social events. What a great guy to have for a friend. I wish he was my friend. My friends seem so boring in comparison. Darn it, why didn't I talk to him? I wonder if he's still standing there reading the phone book? Maybe I'll go back and see if he's still standing there reading the phone book."
Or some such thing.
Fine, I never read the phone book while doing it. I just thought of that at this point in time. Wish I had, tho, it would've added a whole new dimension. I never think of the really good stuff until the time is over.
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