Wednesday, April 22, 2009

All Right, Miss Phelps...

This is a response to Kelsey Phelps' latest blog posting, so direct all virulent hate mail there.

Yes, I agree, Earth Day is kind of a cop-out of a holiday (we'll be celebrating Oxygen Day soon, kids!), but it apparently was recently celebrated. Ask Kelsey. I don't know--since leaving all the hippies in Humboldt County, it's somehow easier to forget that they're out there, and without them celebrating Earth Day, I forget about it too.

But I digress down yet another bunny-trail. Bad bunny. Shoot the bunny. Bang! Now the bunny's dead. Metaphor way too swollen: reel it in.

Okay, here are some photos of my favorite places to be (limited to earth). If you notice a theme, don't be surprised. If you don't notice a theme, don't ever become a snake hunter.

I would love to be here, at home, in Humboldt County:



Or here, with them:


And would I really mind being here? No, I don't think I would.


I loved being here with them:


and here:


I would have loved to have seen this,


and I would greatly love to be here, at home, with her:


Or with her (but preferably both):


Here:


and here:


And here with them:


These are some of the places I call home, and some of the people I call family.

Thanks to my Mom

Not entirely sure how much of it I believe, but quite interesting none the less.


In George Washington's days, there were no cameras. One's image was either sculpted or painted. Some paintings of George Washington showed him standing behind a desk with one arm behind his back while others showed both legs and both arms. Prices charged by painters were not based on how many people were to be painted, but by how many limbs were to be painted. Arms and legs are 'limbs,' therefore painting them would cost the buyer more. Hence the expression, 'Okay, but it'll cost you an arm and a leg.' (Artists know hands and arms are more difficult to paint)

*******
As incredible as it sounds, men and women took baths only twice a year (May and October) Women kept their hair covered, while men shaved their heads (because of lice and bugs) and wore wigs. Wealthy men could afford good wigs made from wool. They couldn't wash the wigs, so to clean them they would carve out a loaf of bread, put the wig in the shell, and bake it for 30 minutes. The heat would make the wig big and fluffy, hence the term 'big wig.' Today we often use the term 'here comes the Big Wig' because someone appears to be or is powerful and wealthy.

*******


In the late 1700's, many houses consisted of a large room with only one chair. Commonly, a long wide board folded down from the wall, and was used for dining. The 'head of the household' always sat in the chair while everyone else ate sitting on the floor. Occasionally a guest, who was usually a man, would be invited to sit in this chair during a meal. To sit in the chair meant you were important and in charge. They called the one sitting in the chair the 'chair man.' Today in business, we use the expression or title 'Chairman' or 'Chairman of the Board.'

*******
Personal hygiene left much room for improvement. As=2 0a result, many women and men had developed acne scars by adulthood. The women would spread bee's wax over their facial skin to smooth out their complexions. When they were speaking to each other, if a woman began to stare at another woman's face she was told, 'mind your own bee's wax.' Should the woman smile, the wax would crack, hence the term 'crack a smile'. In addition, when they sat too close to the fire, the wax would melt . . . Therefore, the expression 'losing face.'


*******

Ladies wore corsets, which would lace up in the front. A proper and dignified woman, as in 'straight laced'. . Wore a tightly tied lace.
0A


*******

Common entertainment included playing cards. However, there was a tax levied when purchasing playing cards but only applicable to the 'Ace of Spades.' To avoid paying the tax, people would purchase 51 cards instead. Yet, since most games require 52 cards, these people were thought to be stupid or dumb because they weren't 'playing with a full deck.'


*******

Early politicians required feedback from the public to determine what the people considered important. Since there were no telephones, TV's or radios, the politicians sent their assistants to local taverns, pubs, and bars. They were told to 'go sip some ale' and listen to people's conversations and political concerns. Many assistants were dispatched at different times. 'You go sip here' and 'You go sip there.' The two words 'go sip' were eventually combined when referring to the local opinion and, thus we have the term 'gossip.'


*******
At local taverns, pubs, and bars, people drank from pint and quart-sized containers. A bar maid's job was to keep an eye on the customers and keep the drinks coming. She had to pay close attention and remember who was drinking in 'pints' and who was drinking in 'quarts,' hence the term 'minding your'P's and Q's '


*******
One more and betting you didn't know this!

In the heyday of sailing ships, all war ships and many freighters carried iron cannons.. Those cannons fired round iron cannon balls. It was necessary to keep a good supply near the cannon. However, how to prevent them from rolling about the deck? The best storage method devised was a square-based pyramid with one ball on top, resting on four resting on nine, which rested on sixteen. Thus, a supply of 30 cannon balls could be stacked in a small area right next to the cannon. There was only one problem....how to prevent the bottom layer from sliding or rolling from under the others. The solution was a metal plate called a 'Monkey' with 16 round indentations.

However, if this plate were made of iron, the iron balls would quickly rust to it. The solution to the rusting problem was to make 'Brass Monkeys.' Few landlubbers realize that brass contracts much more and much faster than iron when chilled.


Consequently, when the temperature dropped too far, the brass indentations would shrink so much that the iron cannonballs would come right off the monkey. Thus, it was quite literally, 'Cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey.' (All this time, you thought that was an improper expression, didn't you.)


If you don't send this fabulous bit of historic knowledge to any and all your unsuspecting friends, your floppy is going to fall off your hard drive and kill your mouse.

Monday, April 20, 2009

Centipedes vs. Millipedes

To solve the perennial question: millipedes are the cool, friendly looking ones; centipedes have the creepy legs off to the side, poison pinchers and eat cute helpless things.



There is a type of centipede that grows to almost two feet long, climbs the walls of a cave, dangles the front half of its body from the ceiling and snags bats as they flurry in. Apparently looks aren't always deceiving.



If you want to watch it on youtube, here you are.

Sunday, April 19, 2009

More Chuck Norris

Chuck Norris, Vin Diesel and Arnold Schwarzenegger have all died and are in Heaven. Each of them hope to occupy the seat next to God. God asks Vin Diesel why he thinks he should have the seat and Vin replies, "I believe... I should have the seat because of the virtuosity in my toughness and pride." Arnie says, "I believe... that I should be the one sitting next to you because of all my achievements." God then turns to Chuck Norris, who replies with, "I believe... you are sitting in my seat."


When Chuck Norris sends in his taxes, he sends blank forms and includes only a picture of himself, crouched and ready to attack. Chuck Norris has not had to pay taxes ever.


Chuck Norris died ten years ago, but the Grim Reaper can't get up the courage to tell him.


Chuck Norris once survived a suicide bombing. He was the bomber.


Chuck Norris does not know where you live, but he knows where you will die.


Chuck Norris can divide by zero.

Thursday, April 16, 2009

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

True, I Suppose...

“The trouble with having an open mind, of course, is that people will insist on coming along and trying to put things in it.” - Terry Pratchett

Folly of Mine Youth

Well, it's finally up, over a year after its occurrence. Now, anytime that the desire moves trahere me, I can watch myself hurtle across a video screen into 6' 8" and 260 lbs of Patrick Swanson with enough force to dislocate my left shoulder on impact. Then I get blithely brushed aside--it's pretty impressive--as the rest of the team arrives to rat-pack him to the ground. I still am pretty sure he wouldn't have gone down had he managed to step over me instead of trying to step through me, and tripping. But we'll never know now, will we?

Anyway, click on the title if you haven't seen it and want to. As close as I can tell, my shoulder either goes out when I hit him or when he steps, cause it's out by the time I hit the ground.

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

Collins: Forgetfulness

Forgetfulness

The name of the author is the first to go
followed obediently by the title, the plot,
the heartbreaking conclusion, the entire novel
which suddenly becomes one you have never read,
never even heard of,

as if, one by one, the memories you used to harbor
decided to retire to the southern hemisphere of the brain,
to a little fishing village where there are no phones.

Long ago you kissed the names of the nine Muses goodbye
and watched the quadratic equation pack its bag,
and even now as you memorize the order of the planets,

something else is slipping away, a state flower perhaps,
the address of an uncle, the capital of Paraguay.

Whatever it is you are struggling to remember,
it is not poised on the tip of your tongue,
not even lurking in some obscure corner of your spleen.

It has floated away down a dark mythological river
whose name begins with an L as far as you can recall,
well on your own way to oblivion where you will join those
who have even forgotten how to swim and how to ride a bicycle.

No wonder you rise in the middle of the night
to look up the date of a famous battle in a book on war.
No wonder the moon in the window seems to have drifted
out of a love poem that you used to know by heart.

Billy Collins

Monday, April 13, 2009

Wilson's Easter Charge

The Direction of the Offer
Topic: The Lord's Table

In this glorious meal, Jesus Christ is genuinely and truly offered. The divide between historic Protestantism and the Roman Catholic view is not over that—both sides believe that Jesus Christ is truly offered. The difference is not over whether that happens or not. The difference is one of direction, and concerns who receives the offering.

The Roman view is that Jesus Christ is offered again to God, in a repeated (or renewed) sacrifice. Our view is that in this meal God offers Jesus Christ to us. The difference is directional. One view is that Jesus is offered up again, and the other is that Jesus is offered down.

And so, if we were to be asked if we believed in the real presence of Christ, the answer would be that we certainly don’t believe in His real absence. The Lord is present with us, in this meal. He is offered to us, and we partake of Him by faith. And of course, in order to partake of Him by faith, we have to believe that we are doing so. And so we do.

But there are some other important things to note. This is Easter Sunday, and we of course know that we are celebrating the resurrection. But it follows from this that in this Easter communion you are not being offered a dead Christ, but a living Christ. A dead Christ was offered to God so that a living Christ could be offered to you. You are converted. You are now Christians. Why would you want to partake of death any longer? God gave you a death to partake of by faith, so that you might partake of life now, here.

Saturday, April 11, 2009

Chuck Norris

Most Popular Chuck Norris Facts:

If you have five dollars and Chuck Norris has five dollars, Chuck Norris has more money than you.

There is no 'ctrl' button on Chuck Norris's computer. Chuck Norris is always in control.

Apple pays Chuck Norris 99 cents every time he listens to a song.

Chuck Norris can sneeze with his eyes open.

Chuck Norris can eat just one Lay's potato chip.

Chuck Norris is suing Myspace for taking the name of what he calls everything around you.

Chuck Norris destroyed the periodic table, because he only recognizes the element of surprise.

Chuck Norris can kill two stones with one bird.



Chuck's Favorites:


When the Boogeyman goes to sleep every night, he checks his closet for Chuck Norris.

Chuck Norris doesn't read books. He stares them down until he gets the information he wants.

There is no theory of evolution. Just a list of creatures Chuck Norris has allowed to live.

Outer space exists because it's afraid to be on the same planet with Chuck Norris.

Chuck Norris does not sleep. He waits.

Chuck Norris is currently suing NBC, claiming Law and Order are trademarked names for his left and right legs.

Chuck Norris is the reason why Waldo is hiding.

Chuck Norris counted to infinity - twice.

There is no chin behind Chuck Norris’ beard. There is only another fist.

When Chuck Norris does a pushup, he isn’t lifting himself up, he’s pushing the Earth down.

Chuck Norris is so fast, he can run around the world and punch himself in the back of the head.

Chuck Norris’ hand is the only hand that can beat a Royal Flush.

Chuck Norris can lead a horse to water AND make it drink.

Chuck Norris doesn’t wear a watch, HE decides what time it is.

Chuck Norris can slam a revolving door.

Chuck Norris does not get frostbite. Chuck Norris bites frost

Remember the Soviet Union? They decided to quit after watching a DeltaForce marathon on Satellite TV.

Contrary to popular belief, America is not a democracy, it is a Chucktatorship.

Wednesday, April 8, 2009

Shakespearean Sonnet

This year's (just to be more politically incorrect) fresh men (take that, some political personage) get to suffer the same indignities we were condemned to, all while basking in the helpful criticisms the upperclassmen gently bestow upon them: "Yeah, that's a really bad grade, but I'm surprised he passed you..."; "Mr. Appel was telling me about you at dinner... "; "Yeah. And I thought our class was bad..." and even more edifying remarks. Their classes are way easier, so to create an equilibrium, we create a more hostile environment. Lest they be deprived of the full NSA experience, of course.

Anyway, there was a very impressive, very Shakespearean sonnet produced by Miss Claire Martens, a good friend of mine. She forbade me to post it, but allowed me to link to it, informing me, and I mercilessly (and horrendously) (mis)quote: "Mihi placet. Genua mihi rubri sunt" (or something meaning something like that). So, enjoy the poem in the knowledge that, for your sake, little children, a girl blushed, and you still know nothing of it.

Peter Leithart

A moment of praise for my theology professor, Peter Leithart. He has a library the size "of the state of Texas," which is not much of an exaggeration: floor to ceiling bookshelves on all four walls of his study are deep enough to stack books two deep and about fifteen feet at the tallest points, and are filled, along with books stacked up waist-high on the floor. He literally has a catalogue system like they do in public libraries. And he's read most all of them.

I have no idea how many books he's written, but they are many and their topics vary from a Solomonic approach to postmodernism to a magnificent "theological bricolage" against the corruptions and misconceptions in the Christian church to a lovely book on Jane Austen.

Anyway, here's an article of his.



History: Freeman’s Distortions

Two instances of Freeman’s distortions (these from The Closing of the Western Mind). First, he has a couple of pictures of the Riace warrior statue from Delphi, which “represents man at his most heroic, almost a god in his own right.” On the facing page he says “By the fourth century A.D., such confidence has faded and human beings have become overwhelmed by forces over which they have little control.” To illustrate, he reproduces Grunewald’s depiction of St Anthony (1515) and a twelfth century icon showing devils dragging souls to hell.

Freeman’s leaps and bounds leave me a little dizzy.

For starters, while there is certainly a difference between the Delphi statue and the depictions of Anthony, the difference is not the difference between hero and helpless victim. After all, Anthony was at war with those demons, and victorious. He is a different sort of hero, but not less heroic. Besides, it’s not entirely clear how paintings from the sixteenth and twelfth century respectively are supposed to provide evidence cocncerning the fourth century.

A second distortion: A page after the contrast of the Riace warrior and Anthony, Freeman includes a picture of the head of Constantine from the monumental statue now extant only in fragments, a photo of the arch of Constantine, and a medallion from about 330. He comments, “By the fourth century the emperor has become quasi-divine, as the monumental idealized head of Constantine . . . suggests.”

Well now. “By the fourth century“? Perhaps Freeman isn’t aware that Augustus was already more than quasi-divine, as were his successors. Perhaps he’s never heard of the cult of the emperor, or doesn’t realize that Christians were perseccuted for refusing to offer sacrifice to his genius.

Perhaps he really doesn’t know all this. Revealingly, the only entry for “persecution” in his index refers to a couple of pages describing Augustine’s views on the subject. But he does know. He mentions persecutions in his few pages on Diocletian, but insists that the Romans executed Christians very, very reluctantly, “only after every possible means of making him offer a token sacrifice to the state had been tried.” True enough; the Romans used every “means” they could find, like whipping and burning and flaying and pouring salt and vinegar in wounds. Those patient, patient Romans. Who can blame them?

But, if the emperor only became “quasi-divine” in the fourth century, implicitly with the ascendancy of Constantine, what was that “token sacrifice to the state” all about?

posted by Peter J. Leithart on Wednesday, April 8, 2009 at 1:51 pm

The Silver Chair Bookstore

Thanks to my pastor Doug Wilson (www.dougwils.com) for the link.

The Silver Chair Bookstore is a delightful little site full of books, pipes, interesting music and all-in-all the great, quirky, homey kind of place one would love to hang out in, complete with a 6' 9" 300 lb. fan of Lewis, Tolkein and Chesterton. I highly recommend stopping by, staying a while, and adding them to your bookmark bar.

Monday, April 6, 2009

Proesy

I have stood among trees to whom I am but a taste on the air; I have fallen into the sky, timelessly lost among the languorous stars, lightly lowered to earth with the midnight dew. I have walked the lake of moonlit mist with life, flaming, lilting at my side and sullen death skulking behind her mossy eyes. We are naught but a story spoken: let us listen.

Another Blatantly Racist Joke (kind of)

What do you call an Irishman sitting on his front porch? Patio furniture.

Friday, April 3, 2009

Storms

I decided to take a hiatus from my usual insect fascination to present a few other interesting things...
























Thursday, April 2, 2009

Neat

Now that I've finally found out that the "insert photo" button inserts photos, you shall both of you be subjected to more.


You have to love the mantis: what kind of God makes something that absurd?


Of course, not quite so pretty as our monarchs, but still, nothing to sneer at.






Motives...


This is what happens when you have way too much spare time.



And finally, I added a picture of my house, taken this morning.


Blessings all; I'm off to study Latin.

Monday, March 30, 2009

The Boxer (Simon and Garfunkel)

Simon and Garfunkel's song The Boxer, from their Bridge Over Troubled Water album has a very unusual percussion in the chorus. I just found out why: it's either 1: A heavy chain being slapped against a concrete floor in a warehouse, the mike far enough away to let it echo, or 2: a snare played on a high rise building in 7th avenue in New York.

Go Hal Blaine.

That's Cool, I Guess...


Termites lack the enzyme to digest cellulose (which happens to inhabit wood, if ya didn't know), so they have a symbiont that lives in their guts. It's a member of genusTrichonympha, so we'll call him Trichy. He digests the cellulose that termites eat. So far, so good.

The problem comes when the termite sheds its skin. When it does this, it sheds out the lining of its stomach, which contains poor little Trichy, who presumably dies fairly rapidly. The termite is then left without any means of digesting cellulose, until it feeds off of the anal secretions of other termites, introducing more Trichy into the stomach, and allowing it to eat wood.

"Some primal termite knocked on wood, and tasted it, and found it good,
And that is why your sweet Aunt May fell through the parlor floor today."
--Ogden Nash

Wodehousian Fun