Awesome!

Ancient, giant things are, by their very nature, awesome. #54398 in the series of Things I've Learned About By Watching Nova: Glacial Lake Missoula and the Ice Age Floods.

A note on grammar

I've been thinking for years now that I ought to start up a blog where my mom gives daily or weekly grammatical tips for English writers. Honestly, interweb. Your English blows. Even the better-written posts have sucktacular English. Mom's busy with her divorce, and I'm busy with my crappy-ass temp job, so, instead of the new blog, I bring you the

ENGLISH LANGUAGE GRAMMATICAL TIP OF THE DAY:

There is a difference between "fewer" and "less." Here's the way you can remember it. Say some lucky schmuck is walking down the beach, ducks down and scoops up a handful of sand. Not paying attention, the schmuck opens his and a little, allowing some of the sand to slip between his fingers. You can now either say that lucky schmuck has LESS sand in his hand or FEWER grains of sand.

"Less" applies to overall amount, or a mass which cannot be divided so that you can count it (sand, water, control...). "Fewer" applies to things you would count individually (grains of sand, raisins, controls...). If you pour water out of a glass, you have less water in the glass, as you can't count a mass such as water individually. (Granted, if you're an asshole, you could say you have fewer drops of water, but then, again, that'd make you an asshole.) If you poured peanuts out of a bowl, you would have fewer peanuts in that bowl, as you could, technically, count the number of peanuts which you poured out.

Less is for mass, fewer is for items. Capice?

... WTUF?

Holy crap. Further proof of the end of civilization. For some reason, the part which stuck out like a purple-clad dancing cat was the following:

Speaking at news conference last week, a Montgomery County coroner's office spokesman said the investigation had been complicated by the lack of research on the effect of microwaves on human beings.

Like my deeply troubled mother said when I told her about a mother who possibly nuked her own baby girl (for God's sake, WTUH?!), not too many bodies fit into a standard microwave oven, so it wouold be difficult to gather data on that sort of thing.

One, if she did it, it's simply yet more fuel for a sneaking suspicion I have that we need to start up some sort of law which requires that people get thoroughly vetted before they're permitted to breed. Completely fucking wrong, I know, but, for Christ's sake! Nuked babies! Come on!

Two, if she didn't do it, if it was the babysitter or someone, that poor, poor woman, going through this hell and being accused of committing such a completely fucked up and evil act.

I'm too tired to deal with this. I'm going to go watch this week's Scrubs on the DVR again.

Wow. That looks positively shitacular.

I'm a dork. I saw the trailers for The Lord of the Rings movies and I squeed. I was even excited to see a dragon fly back when the exceedingly disappointing Dragonheart came out.

Eragon is a derivative piece of shit. I shudder at the thought of kids reading it and thinking that's what good writing is. And, judging by the trailer over at Moviefone, it looks like the film based upon it is just as crappy: see for yourself.

Bad costuming, bad magical animal design, cruddy effects, misuse of good actors, shitty actors in central roles. Yup, all the marks of a decidedly mediocre fantasy flick. It's like Peter Jackson never happened. Then again, reading Eragon, it's like high school English never happened. Oh, wait. He was home-schooled, wasn't he? Guess it didn't happen.

Go work in comics!

I know way too many English majors who grew up reading X-Men et al not to post this here.

Go work for Marvel! They're looking for an Associate Editor at Marvel Entertainment in NYC. Job details behind the link. I can't imagine I don't have at least one geeky and über-intelligent friend (and this describes pretty much all of you) who could manage to fit the bill. Okay, yeah, comics ain't what they used to be, but comics! Squee! You'd be working for Marvel Comics! Home of Spiderman and Wolverine and Nightcrawler! Dude! Nightcrawler! Go apply! I know you could do this job.

I'm not applying 'cause I'm not qualified. I've work experience, but not appropriate work experience. I have this growing, creeping, chilling fear I'm going to be an admin for the rest of my days. My life is going to continue to be teh suck of suck for the forseeable future. How the hell do people start proper careers without internships?

They can't, can they? ... Crap.

an empty sky

*headdesk*

All right. This is just driving me buggy.

I've been reading juvvie books, trying to see if there's something I'd like to get for my bookwormish nephew, and have discovered 1) The Secret Country trilogy is all right, though missing a certain something (perhaps its dose of reality in terms of relationships between kids and their parents), 2) Diana Wynne Jones books MUST be bought from the UK as the US versions are but pale, heavily-edited shadows, 2a) I must buy lots of DWJ for the bookworm, and 3) Jane Yolen has no fucking clue how to you thou/thee in a sentence.

The Third is the subject of this post, as, for pity's sake! English is her first language and she's not a moron. So why does she write like one?

Thou and thee are, of course, older forms of you, no longer in use. Still, it's somewhat easy for anyone who studied Elizabethan and Jacobean literature in college (and for whom English is the primary language) to pick up the rules. Thou is used when the you is subject, thee when it's direct object, like the difference between he and him or she and her. The possessive, thy, changes form to thine when the noun is defines is plural. Per the following:

"Thou art a great beauty."

"T'would go better for thee if thou wouldst not lie so."

"Ah! Thou art a true Venus! Thine eyes, thy skin, thy mouth...!"

"Ach! Go to, go to! I'll no more of thee."

All right. Not the best dialogue, but I think you can probably pick up the use of thou/thee/thy/thine from it. Yes? It's not that hard.

So why does Jane frickin' Yolen screw it up? Why? At first, I hought she was simply illustrating the ignorance of a poor boy who lives thousands of years in the future when she used thee where thou should be, and thy in thine's place in The Dragon Pit trilogy (now, apparently, a series of four or summat). Now I'm reading The Young Merlin trilogy, and it's wrong again. Why? Why, why why?

Augh. It's so frustrating, it makes me want to go read some more DWJ. I swear, reading Diana Wynne Jones's ficture for preteens-and-up is like taking a lovely cool bath after a long hot day. Too bad I can't buy any more books until next month. Poop.

The Smithy Code

You've probably heard of this already, but how fabulous is it that a London judge has put a code into his ruling?

You don't know about this? Um, well, there's a New York Times article about it here.

I know that American rulings are available on the web, but are British? Does anyone know how I can find the Baigent v. Random House ruling? I'd love to read it, though I should imagine it can't be half as fun a read as the Mattel v. MCA (over Aqua's "Barbie Girl" song) ruling.

Yakitate!! Sugar Kat-pan

I'm all in love with the Yakitate!! Japan scanlations I've been reading, so I poked around the interweb a bit, and have discovered that the super-awesome, mega-good "solar hands" that the better bakers in the series have...I have them, too! Turns out "solar hands" means you have naturally warm hands. I'd always thought it was freaky that I had such good circulation, considering how much I loathe to exercise (ew! sweat! ugh!) and how much time I've spent over my lifetime just sitting on my arse, reading or watching TV or mucking about on the internet. Turns out, if I felt like it, I could be a naturally kick-ass breadmaker thanks to my freakishly warm hands. My freakishly warm hands about which my very own mother teases me.

I should make bread this weekend and test my "solar hands"-ness. See if it's all they're cracked up to be in the (very silly) manga.

I refuse to grow a 'fro if they don't work, though.

By the way, "yakitate" means "freshly baked." Don't you love Jim Breen?

This made my brain hurt

A link sent to me by my dear younger brother: Suri Cruise Explained.

Not all people from Syracuse are this insane. Honestly. My elder sister is very, very normal.

Gary is awesome!

Of course, those of you who know Gary already know this.

But why is this Gary of whom I speak so awesome at this particular time that I feel the need to post about his awesomeness on my publically-available blog?

Because Gary sent me a huge-ass box of Pocky, that's why. Not just chocolate Pocky, but Kurogoma Pocky, and Chocolat Chaud Mousse Pocky, and all sorts of other Pocky varieties. Even two big boxes of chocolate Pocky multipacks, with lots and lots of minipacks of chocolate Pocky inside.

I was bitten by a charity bug today (gave a bunch of donations to the groups you see listed above), and somehow this led to my giving away Pocky packets from one of these boxes. (One jerk gave his away instead of returning it to me, which is so jerky! No more treats for the jerk! He doesn't deserve the goodness that is Pocky.) The upshot of this is that I've now about three coworkers who, after one small pack, are totally addicted to Pocky and are attempting to come up with ways to get their own supply. Which is good, 'cause then I can mooch off of their Pocky supply, as, though Gary sent me what seems like half a metric ton of Pocky, I just might get through the delicious, delicious Pocky by the close of the weekend at the latest.

THANK YOU, GARY! YOU TOTALLY ROCK!

Wherefore Rabbit?

From yesterday's The Writer's Almanac.

The word "Easter" comes from an ancient pagan goddess worshipped by Anglo Saxons named Eostre. According to legend, Eostre once saved a bird whose wings had frozen during the winter by turning the bird into a rabbit. Because the rabbit had once been a bird, it could still lay eggs, and that rabbit became our Easter Bunny.

Holy shit!

NYTimes.com today: Cheney's Aide Says President Approved Leak

The testimony by the former official, I. Lewis Libby Jr., cited in a court filing by the government made late Wednesday, provides an indication that Mr. Bush, who has long criticized leaks of secret information as a threat to national security, may have played a direct role in authorizing disclosure of the intelligence report on Iraq.

You know they're still going to get away with it, though, don't you? Bush and Cheney could step out onto the White House lawn and shoot target practice at passing citizens and they'd still be sitting pretty. They could toss incendiaries into random in-session courtrooms and still be praised to high heaven by Republicans. They've done nearly entirely nothing but wrong since they came into power, and yet they can still do no wrong.

On volcanoes and colds

Vesuvius Due For Giant Eruption

"There was this Bronze-Age eruption about 4,000 years ago, and then 2,000 years ago there was the A.D. 79 event. It seems that just about every 2,000 years, there's been a major eruption of this scale at Vesuvius," said Sheridan.

I don't know why I think this is cool. I just do. As cool as the potential for life on Europa? No. But still, cool. In an opposite way, I guess, as Vesuvius is about geological activity killing life, but Europa's all about the cultivating of life. Alien life forms. Sucre, they're just bateria, but... Dude. Millions of years ago, so were we.

Speaking of single-celled life forms, I have myself a very nasty cold. Everyone else has a cold, too, so I guess I'm just being fashionable, in a sincerely lemming-like way.

Today's a day of baking banana bread (we have about forty-five frozen bananas sitting in our freezer, waiting to be turned into a baked good) and figuring out my personal finances and being sick. I wish it were a day of chocolate, laughter, and very good sex, but it's not. I'd even go for a day of laughter and good movies. Actually, that'd probably lead to a lot less chaffing. Yes, I would rather today were a day of laughter and good movies than of banana bread baking, balancing personal finances, and coming down with a horrible cold.

I'm going to go lie down now. Go read about Vesuvius. Learning things is groovy.

GSB: All Braff, all the time!

Holy crap! Zach Braff has a blog! He started it up when he was working on Garden State, apparently, but has very awesomely decided to keep it going. And he makes his own posts! Not an assistant, or a publicity wonk, but young Master Zach himself, posting!

...I don't know why I'm so tickled by this. But I am. Hear that? That's me, squeeing.

*squee!*

Also, he makes an awesome reference to Shotgate, or whatever the hell they're calling it now, in his most recent post.

Awesome!

*squee!!*

Score!

I just went through a bag I haven't used since early December and discovered a packet of Kurogoma (black sesame) Pocky! \/\/007! I am l33t sp34king with joy!

Mmmmmmmm. Pockypockypockypockypockypockypockypockypockypockypockypockypockypocky. *Cookie-Monster-style munch*

Crap. Now it's all gone. *wah*

...Hey! Melty Kiss! Three Melty Kisses! *squee!*

...

Two Melty Kisses!

Ow. My back hurts.

God, what was I going to say? I can't remember. I purposely opened up Manage Posts in order to write something, but I'm so freakin' distracted by this back pain that I can't think straight.

Fudgemonkey.

I have a house to catalogue. I don't have time to sit here, typing pointless crap into a computer in order to post it for all to see upon the interwebs.

Oh! This is completely unrelated to the original purpose to this post, but I thought I'd remind folks that those people who suffered through Hurricane Katrina who were without housing and living in government-subsidized hotel rooms have been kicked out of their rooms and are now homeless. PLEASE GIVE WHAT YOU CAN TO THE CHARITIES ABOVE. These folks still need our individual help and the help of reputable charities, as our government is too busy misusing its funds (tax cuts for the rich and corporations, corporate welfare, paychecks for Tom Delay and Karl Rove) to help the neediest.

For the Octopuses

I take it you all have already seen this, but, just in case, Pharyngula has a post about an octopus attacking an ROV. An epic battle between monster and machine! Epic!

That all said, my cat, Lucy, is going insane. In a cute way, but, man. Weird.

Also, I'm looking for housing in the City and my mom might be, too, as it looks like she might lose the house and everything she owns.

One of my favorite (true) stories

I haven't updated, for real, in forever. I've been spending my sporadic time online either looking for a job or downloading manga scanlations. I haven't checked my e-mail accounts with regularity in ages, except for the account where the job search results from various websites are sent.

So, I update now, sitting at the desk I set up in September or so for my monitor and keyboard and mouse. The computer I prefer to use while sitting on the sofa, but the internet connection, crappy as it is, doesn't go that far. It should, the router thing should work that far and further, but it barely works here, in the same room. I sit at my desk, trying to sit up straight and hold my hands in a position which would do least damage.

The window above my desk is high and wide, and has two laminated construction paper cutouts taped to it which my eldest nephew, S--, made while in preschool: one a basic shape of a person, with dot eyes and nose and line smile, the other an outline of his hand at that age, both with his name written on them in the teacher's neat pen. They are there to ward off the birds which had flown into the window, slammed against it, and fallen into the bush below. They have all, so far, recovered after a few moments' rest, but I didn't like being surprised by the sudden slam or the thought that, one day, one of the birds would not shake itself together and fly off. Also, I miss the kid, and the laminated cutouts have nostalgic value. The window is black behind the cutouts, the ceiling fan and the ceiling tiles casting pale reflections in the lower half, and the bright, dime-sized moon glowing past black silohoutte branches beyond.

I have little to do, beyond the job search and house cleaning. I try to read, but I'm too often distracted by dark thoughts of debt and bills to focus on what's in front of me. I cannot bring myself to read fiction for some reason, so I take in small bits of a biography on William Shakespeare and a biography of Benjamin Franklin, depending on where I left which book and where I am at hat moment. I haven't updated the reading list on this site in forever. I can't be bothered to go in and correct the template, especially when I'm not sure for how long the router will work.

I finally checked my AOL account today, to which I have a lot of mass e-mail sent. Going through the Writer's Almanac e-mail, I found in the December, 24, 2005, e-mail, this story from WWI, which I haven't heard in ages but have loved since I first heard about it when I was in elementary school:

It's Christmas Eve, and it was on this day in 1914 that the last known Christmas truce occurred, during World War I. German troops fighting in Belgium began decorating their trenches and singing Christmas carols. Their enemy, the British, soon joined in the caroling. The war was put on hold, and the soldiers greeted each other in "No Man's Land," exchanging gifts of whiskey and cigars. In many areas, the truce held until Christmas night, while in other places the truce did not end until New Year's Day. In one area, the opposing sides played a soccer match together.

British commanders Sir John French and Sir Horace Smith-Dorrien disapproved of the truce, and they ordered artillery bombardments on Christmas Eve in the remaining years of the war. Troops were also rotated with regularity to keep them from growing too familiar with the enemy troops in the close quarters of trench warfare. The Christmas truce was a war tradition of the 19th century, and its disappearance marked the end of wartime protocols of that time.

I wasn't aware before of the commanders ordering the end of the truce tradition. Makes me dislike them even more than I did before. When I first heard the story, it was as the origin of the English version of "Silent Night" and "O Tannenbaum," both of which were sung by German troops. The British troops returned their own traditional carols, and a bugler played. Or something. I can't remember exactly. It's possible that both sides knew "Silent Night" and sang it to each other in their native tongues. I should read the link The Writer's Almanac set up.

I like the idea of a truce on holy days. There are a lot of them, minor ones, mostly, on the Catholic calendar. I'm sure there are plenty in the Muslim and Jewish calendars, too. Maybe if we could all just hold truces on these various holy days, we could keep our war-mongering, pugnacious natures to just a few days of the year. All I know is, I'm exhausted. I'm tired of the fighting. I don't know why we can't just stop, all of us, every side. Just stop.

*pop* goes the champagne*crack* goes my spine, three days into my new year resolutions