My new year's resolution

To open a twitter account and make only one tweet of one character's length, consisting of an obsolete punctuation mark, and a spelling mistake.

Happy new year.

Curses! Spoiled again!

A couple of weeks ago I was having a chat with some folks around the topic of movie spoilers. One guy was saying he hated spoilers, did everything he could to avoid them; another was saying she didn't mind spoilers at all actually, no problem with them. My position was slightly different: hey, sometimes spoilers are the only good thing about a movie; I will actively go out of my way to avoid a movie and read the spoilers instead. Case in point, the upcoming Batman vs Superman movie, or even more case in point, the never-ending series of Star Wars sequels.

These films present me with a curious paradox: I see the previews, I read about everyone else's excitement, and as a result I get all excited myself and want to know how they end. But I find I have no desire, nonetheless, to see the films. That would be a waste of precious hours in my life; the carpe diem poets advise man to seize the day, to Gather ye rosebuds while ye may/ old time is still a-flying - not Go to a bloody movie theatre for two hours and sit through another tedious collection of special effects just so you know how it all ends. You don't actually have to endure your way through to the end of Star Wars episode 1-3 and Darth Vader/Anakin's hilariously anti-climactic "NOOOOOOOOOOOO!" to realise that, aside from filling in a few plot details that people could probably guess anyway, the films are devoid of any artistic interest whatsoever. In fact, Star Wars Episode Whogivesa or Batman vs Superman are hardly movies at all; they are plot twists mistaking themselves for movies.

So to the plot summary on the Wikipedia page I go, then. My favourite part of the plot summary would have to be.... I'm not sure, but my least favourite part would have to be the fact that they've (oh come ON don't tell me you didn't know I was going to include some spoilers in this post) INVENTED ANOTHER BLOODY DEATH STAR FOR THE FILM, I mean it may just be a plot twist mistaking itself for a proper cinematic experience but the least it could be is a NEW damned plot twist. (It's not even original in its unoriginality; Lucas reinvented the Death Star in Return of the Jedi). The most amusing would have to be the fact that evil kid Ren/Ben whatever appears to be having ongoing chats with his dead Dark Side mentor Darth Vader. (Not sure about this last part - they keep on fidding with the Wiki plot summary).

It would be amusing to go on in this way and review the plot summaries of all the crappy films that I don't want to see but want to know the ending too, like Batman vs Superman, but its plot synopsis is still too coy because the stupid non-film hasn't come out yet. I'm guessing neither of them wins. So there goes my career as a Wikipedia plot summary reviewer, then.

Oh, by the way, SPOILERS! This blog post contains SPOILERS! Did I do that right guys?

A DISQUISITION concerning the ETIQUETTE of FARTING

We were talking of farts, Thassalius, Quintalian and I, since it was not possible to do the reverse, and anyway, it is our custom to deliberate upon important matters before puffing contentedly on our evening pipes.

"I maintain," said Quintalian, "that farting is a way of marking territory by humans, just as animals mark their territory by means of odour. Observe, for instance, the dog, thoughtfully leaving his or her essence upon a tree, so that other dogs may KNOW they hath been there. Consider, too, the ways of the bee; who, in swarming season, is guided by the scents of the scouts who have gone before her, and thereby establishes a safe new hive for her sisters and brothers. So, too, we may draw an analogy with the human animal, whereby they, in their natural environment - such as the desk at their office, for instance, or the elevator they are sharing with their boss - mark their territory, perhaps unconsciously, by releasing a smell, a natural pheromone, into the environment, that will prove attractive to their family, and repellent to their enemies."

"A judicious observation, Quintalian", said I. "It is certainly true that my own farts frequently smell pleasant, whereas those of my enemies - who are many - or those who do not know me - who are sadly more numerous still - are abhorrent to my organs of olfactory apprehension. And yet, I find that the universal social contract is to deplore the practice of flatulence, wherever it may occur. What sayest thou, Thassalius?"

"It is certainly not a practice that I find to be impolite", murmured Thassalius. "For, wherein do true manners lie? In not giving offence to our neighbour, our friend, by giving false witness unto them - or, in being generous to them in their needs, and courteous to them in their wishes. But I find the practice of farting plays no part in this; for what one man finds disturbing, the other finds no trouble with; and what is of so little consequence can give no real offence. 'Tis but a bubble, Sir!"

"It would indeed prove to be a fit subject for an ESSAY, PAPER, or DISQUISITION, Thassalius," I said.

"Perhaps we may look forward to it further in your own productions, Palpatius", put in Quintalian. "I, for one, find it easier to avoid giving even the appearance of offence to my fellow humans; I wait until I am out of their company before letting NATURE take the air."

(It struck me hereabouts, of course, that whereas humans may make a great show of taking offence, other animals, more sensitive to the aromas around them, may already be well aware of the digestive productions of HOMO SAPIENS. Would not, say, bees regard the gaseous emissions of humans in a benevolent light, as one of the many fragrances of NATURE, just as humans regarded their own hive smell as an example of the universal goodness? If I had had more time to frame these thoughts into words I may well have said them to Quintalian, but here Thassalius came in with another striking thought.)

"Indeed," cried Thassalius, "I frequently regard the farts of others as a compliment. For what more simple way could there be to make expression of your comradely trust and the familial bond than to give way to an expression of wind in the company of others?"

"How true!" I enthused. "Thassalius, thou hast made a great discovery! And, paradoxically, does not one find even amongst the most frivolous of companions - school boys and the like - a desire to bond through their mutual flatulence, even by producing the odour that will be the most repugnant of sensation to one another? But who knows where this laudable desire for mutual betterment may lead them? Through their dedication to finding the most potent herbs, the most odiferous saps, the most productive of the plants and beans, that they may not - unbidden - make a Great Scientific Discovery?"

This being said, the three of us, done with our deliberating and asseverating and cogitating, drew out our pipes as one, and let the clouds wreathe up around us and ascend into the heavens above.

HERE ENDETH THE DISQUISITION

Christmas doggerel #2

I am a sexy Santa in my sexy Santa suit

I looked me in the mirror and I thought I looked quite cute

I hop into your stockings girls every year or so

Some like it when I do that but some say I'm just a 

HO HO HO! 

Christmas doggerel

Doggerel. An ancient verse form. It's just like a villanelle. Written by a dog.

Dear Santa Claus

My Christmas wish

Is nothing more

Than an old dead fish. 

The Twelve Days of why do we even call it Christmas Christ was just a myth and he wasn't even born then and anyway it's actually a pagan festival but it's all about consumption and greed and white colonialism in the context of late capitalism really please pass the pudding

Time for a Christmas sing along, kids! You know the tune! It's that old favourite

The Twelve Days of why do we even call it Christmas Christ was just a myth and he wasn't even born then and anyway it's actually a pagan festival but it's all about consumption and greed and white colonialism in the context of late capitalism really please pass the pudding


On the first day of why do we even call it Christmas Christ was just a myth and he wasn't even born then and anyway it's actually a pagan festival but it's all about consumption and greed and white colonialism in the context of late capitalism really please pass the pudding 
My true love sent to me 
A greeting card.

On the second day... 
A pair of socks 
And a greeting card.

On the third day... 
Three feelings of warmth and tenderness with work friends 
A pair of socks 
And a greeting card.

On the fourth day... 
Four long lost family members 
Three feelings of warmth and tenderness with work friends 
A pair of socks 
And a greeting card.

On the fifth day... 
Five gorgeous renaissance portrayals of the Nativity
Four long lost family members 
Three feelings of warmth and tenderness with work friends 
A pair of socks 
And a greeting card.

On the sixth day... 
Six relaxing days on the beach 
Five gorgeous renaissance portrayals of the Nativity
Four long lost family members 
Three feelings of warmth and tenderness with work friends 
A pair of socks 
And a greeting card.

On the seventh day... 
Seven wonderful craft beers at the Christmas party with friends 
Six relaxing days on the beach 
Five gorgeous renaissance portrayals of the Nativity
Four long lost family members 
Three feelings of warmth and tenderness with work friends 
A pair of socks 
And a greeting card.

On the eighth day... 
Eight lovely colours on that gift shirt your mother gave to you 
Seven wonderful craft beers at the Christmas party with friends 
Six relaxing days on the beach 
Five gorgeous renaissance portrayals of the Nativity
Four long lost family members 
Three feelings of warmth and tenderness with work friends 
A pair of socks 
And a greeting card.

On the ninth day... 
Nine delightful chocolate fudges 
Eight lovely colours on that gift shirt your mother gave to you 
Seven wonderful craft beers at the Christmas party with friends 
Six relaxing days on the beach 
Five gorgeous renaissance portrayals of the Nativity 
Four long lost family members 
Three feelings of warmth and tenderness with work friends 
A pair of socks 
And a greeting card.


On the tenth day... 
A ten day holiday in France 
Nine delightful chocolate fudges 
Eight lovely colours on that gift shirt your mother gave to you 
Seven wonderful craft beers at the Christmas party with friends 
Six relaxing days on the beach 
Five gorgeous renaissance portrayals of the Nativity
Four long lost family members 
Three feelings of warmth and tenderness with work friends 
A pair of socks 
And a greeting card.


On the eleventh day... 
A 11.30 in the morning sleep in 
A ten day holiday in France 
Nine delightful chocolate fudges 
Eight lovely colours on that gift shirt your mother gave to you 
Seven wonderful craft beers at the Christmas party with friends 
Six relaxing days on the beach 
Five gorgeous renaissance portrayals of the Nativity
Four long lost family members 
Three feelings of warmth and tenderness with work friends 
A pair of socks 
And a greeting card.


On the twelfth day... 
Twelve people who you love and adore and only want the best for and who really make you laugh at a glorious Christmas lunch 
A 11.30 in the morning sleep in 
A ten day holiday in France 
Nine delightful chocolate fudges 
Eight lovely colours on that gift shirt your mother gave to you 
Seven wonderful craft beers at the Christmas party with friends 
Six relaxing days on the beach 
Five gorgeous renaissance portrayals of the Nativity
Four long lost family members 
Three feelings of warmth and tenderness with work friends 
A pair of socks 
And a greeting card.

NASA launches first Creme Caramel into space after holding a dinner party and accidentally stuffing up the dessert course

NASA has launched the first creme caramel into space after holding a dinner party and accidentally stuffing up the dessert course.

"The initial stages were promising," said NASA spokesman John Spokesman, "But then it stuffed up in the oven when water bubbled into the pot, ruining the custard mixture. But the launch itself went really, really well, and our dinner party guests made a makeshift dessert on the spot by toasting marshmallows in the blast of the rockets".

The creme caramel, currently rocketing past the moon, carries with it a capsule with messages for any potential alien species it may encounter, such as "never make this bloody thing!" and "It's not worth the bother!"

Ewsome.

I didn't make it to the Dan today (insert suitably melancholy emoticon here) but I did just perform this impromptu poem:

Now I have to do my business in my business-doing place.
Now I am doing my business. This is my business-doing face*.
Now I have taken my business out of the business case.
Now I have done my business in the business-doing place.

Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww. Or should that be Ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww?

*What's the emoticon for that, do you reckon? 

May your day be nourished and fructified by the presence of this ASCII sperm made out of commas

It has come to my attention that a search of the internet for an ASCII sperm image made out of commas will be unsuccessful. This is my attempt to rectify this gap in our cultural capital.

Behold : the ASCII comma sperm.

In the beginning was the code

Are selfies really real?

Who's the I behind the Pod?

What's the G in OMG?

Is it Gosh or is it God?

Do we float in cyberspace,

Random bits and bytes and blogs,

Are we acronyms and coding

Amidst pics of cats and dogs?

As we peer into your Facebook,

What's the status to your Status?

Has it gone the way of MySpace?

Do you know but won't update us?

In the far far distant future,

Our accounts long since deleted,

Will someone leave a comment?

Will we be (perhaps) retweeted?

We are pixels built on pixels,

But still I hear the call

To find that perfect YouTube

That will explain it all.

On this day in history....

This day, 30 November 2015, marks the 100th anniversary of the official passing of the Women's Mansplaination Act in Australian Parliament. This important bill gave women everywhere the right to listen to men giving fulsome explanations of things they already knew. Isn't history great?

Rumours that Malcolm Turnbull is actually drinking cocktails of artistic tears out of a golden diamond-encrusted beaker have been unsubstantiated

WTFF News - Australian Government announces the creation of a new fund of artistic tears
The Australian Government has announced the creation of a new fund of artists' tears, in an attempt to boost their support amongst the artistic community

"The National Endowment of Artistic Grief, or NEAG, will revitalise the artistic community, providing them with plentiful supply of delicious grief, torment, agony, and pain for the years ahead", said Mr Turnbull in a statement yesterday, adding that "this precious chalice of depression, desolation and despair showed that the Coalition government was the true friend of artists in Australia."

However, Bill Shorten hit back this morning, claiming that "this fresh supply of artistic tears is taking away from the pre-existing Australian Foundation of Artistic Sadness, and proves that once again the conservatives are ripping off valuable artists." He added: "If elected, a Labor Government will ensure all Artistic Tear stocks are returned to AFAS, along with the addition of fresh grants of sadness for our long-suffering artists."

The statements by Turnbull and Shorten were met with dismay by the artistic community, with artistic leaders sobbing plentifully when asked for responses to the new National Endowment of Artistic Grief policy.

"It's not enough!" claimed one artist.
"It's just too much!" claimed another.
A third artist asked for handkerchiefs.
A fourth artist said: "These are not true Australian tears. I have it on good authority that these tears were made in European sweatshops by underpaid artists. Why aren't we paying Australian artists to cry on our behalf?" before bursting into presumably demonstrative tears.

Rumours that Malcolm Turnbull is actually drinking cocktails of artistic tears out of a golden diamond-encrusted beaker have been unsubstantiated at time of going to press.

However, when contacted by the media, he did make slobbering sounds while licking his lips.

Punkt!

One iott or one tytle of the lawe shall not scape. - Matthew 5:18, the Tindale Bible 

"I like the idea of a whole class devoted to dots", I said in my German class the other day. Everyone laughed; they all thought I was joking. (I usually am). Actually, I was being serious. (I usually am. It's possible to be both).

It often comes down to a matter of the little dots and spots around the letters and numbers, I find. Every alphabet must have a use for those teeny-weeny dots that hover above or under or around the other letters, whether they be a full stop or an accent or a dash between the letters or those familiar spots hanging above the lower case 'i' and the lower case 'j'. 'Tittle' is the lovely technical term for these dots. What business do they have, defying gravity above their letters, anyway? (What business do I have, for that matter, thinking of the letters as standing upright? Books are often meant to be held more horizontally - surely the letters are depicted as horizontal?) And then there are the little dots below the question mark and the exclamation mark - ought we to expect them to fall away or to one day be helplessly crushed beneath the weight of the respective marks as gravity asserts itself?

It is possible to derive an endless amount of amusement from a couple of little dots on a page or a screen; however, the Germans seem to do it better than most of us. Not only do they have all the usual full stops and hyphens and tittles, but they have the semi-inverse colon, better known to you and me as the umlaut. You know, those two little dots above most of the vowels. My enthusiasm for umlauts is immoderate in the extreme, even though I cannot ever quite remember when to put them in*; however, it's in the matter of numbers that they manage to really confuse everyone.

Whereas we would signify a decimal place with a sensible dot (period, full stop, tittle-without-a-letter-to-bother-it, or, in German, punkt), the practice in die Deutschland is to pop in a comma in that same spot. Meanwhile, in the middle of a long number, where we would tend to place in a comma before every three digits for clarity, the Germans mostly don't bother - either spacing the digits apart, or putting in a - well, I'm afraid to say, a punkt. Got that? So where we use a full stop, the Germans use a comma, and where we use a comma, the Germans use a space or a full stop. Oh, and another substitute I hadn't been aware of: our symbol for division - '÷' - which Google informs me is known as 'the obelus' - is replaced, in German, by a colon (or a retrograde umlaut, or a retrograde-semi-inverse-colon**).

Full stops! Commas! Umlauts! Colons! Periods! What with all these blots and blobs and dots and dashes splotting and clashing into one another, it's a wonder we don't see them getting into one another's way and the punkts start groping the tittles and an asterisk and obelus get into the magic potion again and begin causing merry havoc in the marginalia. Anyway, that's about all I wanted to say, but while we're on the subject of dots and dashes and punctuation, can I just put in a word for spotty animals? There's nothing nicer than a well-punctuated animal, I find, and did you know, it's not just spotty coats many animals have; both our cats have a dot in the roof of their mouth. Occasionally when they yawn I see it, and I can't help but murmur to myself: "Hmm, yes. Good punkt. Very good punkt indeed."

*I suppose I could just start off by putting a couple of umlauts at the top of the page and letting the letters come in later. 

**I may have made some of these terms up, but they are totally accurate. 

College students denounce college as cultural appropriation

YALE, MONDAY: College students in the US have denounced college as cultural appropriation, taking to the streets to protest against themselves.

"We hereby call on ourselves to denounce ourselves for appropriating this ancient Latvian tradition and thus perpetuating systemic racism," said the spokesman for the students, before the protesters renounced college immediately.

The protesters went on to protest thought as cultural appropriation, and when asked how exactly it was cultural appropriation, they replied, "I don't know, I gave up thinking ages ago."

An argument against self-expression

An argument against self-expression

It's time for keeping out of touch.

It's time for saying less. 

To say too little, not too much - 

Repress, repress, repress. 

"Let's talk about it." Or: let's not. 

Besides, I must confess

I'm never sure what feeling's what - 

Repress, repress, repress. 

Don't talk. You'll give too much away.

Let other people guess - 

You think too deep for words, they'll say - 

Repress, repress, repress. 

Maintain your peace. Be almost still,

A gentle soft caress

Of fair winds on a distant hill - 

Repress. 

Prior

Maddy Prior.

Prior Maddy.

Maddy, priory.

Etiquette for dogs

Big dogs: when sniffing a little dog's bum, allow a grace period so the little dog has time to swirl around and give your own bum the appreciation it deserves.

Contra Star Wars

Oh, sod off with your Dark Side and your Light Saber and your Yoda says something profound with customary mixed up syntax. Sod off with your epic mythologising of deep import and your important myths of epic significance and your storm-bloody-troopers. Whatever happened to Star Wars: the missing years? EPISODE  1003: Luke Has A Really Bad Cold And Uses The Force To Make A Cup Of Coffee Because He Can't Be Arsed Getting Out Of Bed. EPISODE 2406: A Stormtrooper Is Really Pissed Off Because He Hears This Persistent John Williams Theme In His Ears Every Time He Marches Down The Corridors Of His Imperial Craft To Go To The Toilet. EPISODE 991: That Alien Jazz Band That Plays That One Time Are Invited To Play A Set On A New Death Star That Has Just Been Opened As A Tourist Resort But They Have To Turn It Down Because They Have To See The Doctor On That Date.  No, I have no interest in seeing the latest episode in which the Empire Strikes Back Yet Again and things will probably all end alright anyway. Yes, I'll probably end up seeing the stupid thing anyway. Baaaaaarghh!

A medicament predicament

Just how do you make a chicken eat medicine*? Normally it's easy to feed a chicken; they eat anything. Though strangely, an exception to this rule develops when you feed them medicine: they won't eat that. It's not that they dislike the taste of the medicine - they'll take a few pecks and then leave it aside.

So, you mix the medicine in with anything. All of a sudden, the chicken develops another strange aversion: they'll eat anything they're not supposed to eat.

A solution presents itself: why not mix the medicine in with anything they're not supposed to eat? There's plenty of that around the house, from cat biscuits through to bowls of breakfast porridge. So you mix the medicine in with that. And then, contrarily, the chicken will develop a taste for anything that happens to be beside anything they're not supposed to eat. (Perhaps it is terrified by the paradox of being presented with anything they're not supposed to eat and then being allowed to eat it.)

Then, another possibility arises: company! There's nothing that excites a chicken to eat better than the company of others. In that company, the chicken will quickly scramble to eat as much as it can, excited in greed by the rapacity of its friends, and envious of any small crumb that should make its way down their beak. So, you call all the chickens to the back door, and turn the chicken out with its flock and lay down the medicine there. A fluster of feathers descends upon the food and you observe the results with pleasure. Surely, now the chook will digest its prescribed elixir! And with dismay you watch every chook but the chook you want to eat the medicine, actually eat the medicine.

I ask you. Chickens. They're almost as contrary as bloggers.

*It's just a calcium supplement to ensure sturdy eggs, chicken lovers! Nothing to worry about! 

The Adamite mystery

Researchers create blackest material ever made (Phys.org)—A team of researchers at King Abdulla University of Science and Technology in Saudi Arabia has made the blackest material ever created by human beings.

It doesn't say in the story, but the blackest material ever made has an Antipodean link: it came from the fibres of the clothes of our very own Phillip Adams.

It has long been known that the monochromatic vests of the mellifluous radio presenter and newspaper writer suck all light, heat, and hope into their gravitational vortex. They are woven together from the finest strands made out of the sorrows of true devotees to the Socialist cause, and have been studied for years by scientists as one of the great wonders of nature. Astrophysicists have expressed especial interest in the inklike nature of Adams' clothing, as they seem to display a rare local case of the galactic phenomena known as 'Black Holes'; however, it is feared that if anyone got too close to them, they might go beyond the Event Horizon and be sucked into their naked singularity, and no-one wants that. It is rumoured that this is how Harold Holt got lost.

At any rate, Adams' stygian garments are a true wonder of nature and a site of national beauty, right up there with that big hole in the ground they made a horror film about once, and the medium-sized rock where that film about the schoolgirls disappearing happened, and that largish-sized desert in the middle of it all where those two explorers died. Advance Australia Obsidian!

Do not look into his eyes, or all is lost.