A rough draft of "Indiana Jones and the Saucer Men from Mars" is now posted here. It is a very rough draft. It needs a lot of criticism to point out its weaknesses and omissions so it can be fixed. In my defense, the source material I had to work with was not the greatest. I took that as a welcome challenge. AnniversaryAs of July 11th, I have lived in Utah for five years, and because I have five fingers on each hand, this erroneously feels like a more special number than four or six. Of course more has happened in that five years than can possibly be recounted here, and a great deal of it I would just as soon permanently forget anyway. It seems sometimes that not enough has happened, since I'm still not a college graduate, a returned missionary*, or a famous author. But my music collection is much larger than it was back then, and I have a bit more money, and my life is no longer on the brink of irreparable collapse, so there has been some growth and development and yadda yadda yadda that's enough of that. *This is the proper spelling because it's the one that makes any sense. When people say "return missionary" I want to say "Return him where?" By now I've forgotten most of what I learned my freshman year, other than a few of the life lessons that I learned such as classes, such as this: most stereotypes exist because they're true. If you see a scrawny pale guy with glasses, for example, you can safely assume that he probably likes Star Wars, and not just because liking Star Wars is suddenly cool again. (People are upset about how the same people who used to make fun of them for liking Pokémon are now obsessed with Pokémon Go. I had a similar experience many years ago when my classmates took a break from bullying me for liking Star Wars to get excited about "Revenge of the Sith".) This was borne out again at a recent game night when five of six players made that assumption during a game of Imaginiff, and were correct. Debbie was the sixth, and she was like "Well I didn't know, I don't know him" and I was like "You can't tell just by looking at him?" and he wasn't even offended. He nodded. DebbieI've found it very difficult to trust Debbie, even though she's earned it by demonstrating that she isn't like other people, at least with me, at least in Utah. When other people say maybe they'll do something, they never give it another thought. When Debbie says that maybe she'll do something, she's tries her best to fit it into her busy schedule and usually succeeds. When other people say they will do something, they tentatively put it on the bottom of their priorities list and bump it off the moment anything else comes up. When Debbie says she will do something, she does it, and if something else comes up she tells them she already has plans. Naturally I'm astonished beyond measure by this unprecedented behavior and have a hard time believing that it isn't a temporary fluke. But I owe her that much trust because she has given me far more. While walking last weekend, she made us change direction or cross the street whenever we came near anyone of the male species, and that prompted this conversation that should have been awkward but wasn't. Me: You don't trust me to protect you? Her: I trust that you would try, but if he has a gun, we're both out of luck. Me: Do you not trust any of these guys, or just the sketchy-looking ones? Her: No, but it depends on the time of day too, like if it were midday it wouldn't be an issue. Me: Do you trust me? Her: I'm with you, aren't I? Me: This feels like a huge responsibility. Her: To not turn and attack me? Me: I just mean – I know I'm trustworthy, but you don't know that. You're taking a leap of faith. And what if you take that leap of faith with someone else who isn't trustworthy? So I feel like, even though I'm trustworthy, maybe you shouldn't trust me because you just shouldn't trust people. Her: And I'm more likely to be assaulted by someone I know well. Me: Yes. Days later, she flinched very hard when I reached over her to pick something up. Having her neighbor around much of the time that we hang out hasn't turned out to be an unbearable nuisance as I thought it would be, either, since she makes a visibly conscious effort to be equally inclusive of us both. If anything, I am the guilty party for paying more attention to her than him, but still he has graduated in my mind from “friend-in-law” to actual friend. So I started inviting them both to stuff instead of just her, and when she couldn't make it to something and it was just me and him I didn't even mind. We bonded over our shared love of Homestar Runner and our shared ambivalence toward the latest Star Wars movie. The Mormon SectionRichard Dawkins has written, "The total amount of suffering per year in the natural world is beyond all decent contemplation. During the minute that it takes me to compose this sentence, thousands of animals are being eaten alive, many others are running for their lives, whimpering with fear, others are slowly being devoured from within by rasping parasites, thousands of all kinds are dying of starvation, thirst, and disease. It must be so. If there ever is a time of plenty, this very fact will automatically lead to an increase in the population until the natural state of starvation and misery is restored. In a universe of electrons and selfish genes, blind physical forces and genetic replication, some people are going to get hurt, other people are going to get lucky, and you won't find any rhyme or reason in it, nor any justice. The universe that we observe has precisely the properties we should expect if there is, at bottom, no design, no purpose, no evil, no good, nothing but pitiless indifference." From this I came to wonder if Jesus experienced all of this pain during the Atonement. It seems self-evident that the Atonement covers animals because they will be resurrected. And they are no more deserving of pain, and less so in many cases, than humans. So did Jesus take their burdens upon Himself too? Did He intimately feel, for example, what it's like to be a rabbit experiencing sheer terror and adrenaline as it runs from a fox, only to be overtaken and torn apart? My answer is yes, but like, that's just my opinion, man. And I think there is a self-evident parallel between the necessity of suffering to create species and ecosystems and the necessity of suffering to create gods. Star Wars Call Me Maybe + Fred Huggins - I Like YouA little over four years ago (so not as ostensibly significant as five but at least it's something), this cover of "Call Me Maybe" was released, and I heard it before I heard the original in its entirety, and it's still my preferred version even though it's just a catchy song in general. Bonus: The song that goes "I really really really really really really like you" is even catchier, but it reminds me of the Fred Huggins show, which Carly Rae Jepsen presumably watched as a preteen.
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Again, I don't feel like writing much, and I don't even want to make a post today and very few people would care if I didn't, but I would be disappointed in myself for failing to endure. Last night I went to Freedom Fire, the annual Independence Day concert/fireworks show, with Debbie. This was made possible by me double pinky promising that it wouldn't be a date. Some time ago, when she suspected that I was interested in her, she started acting cold and aloof to try and dissuade me. But she was still giving me rides and doing other nice things, so I became very confused as to why she seemed schizophrenic. After we clarified that issue and I promised never to ask her out, she became much warmer and more open and willing to spend time with me. As it turns out, when she "just wants to be friends", she doesn't really mean "I'm going to ghost you out of my life altogether and refuse to spare you two minutes unless it's an emergency". How unusual. When she texted me the day of it, first off I immediately knew it was her because nobody else texts me, and second off I naturally assumed she was canceling on me, but she was just asking if I cared if her neighbor happened to come along. Again, I didn't want that because the dynamic of a trio where two people know one person but not each other always results in me becoming invisible, but since it wasn't a date I didn't feel in any position to be too insistent about that, so I just dodged the question and asked if I would become a third wheel and she laughed and said they aren't dating but we could just go alone anyway. That was just fine with me so I left it at that and didn't respond. I don't feel bad for him because this event has been publicized for months, so it's not like he needed us to invite him anyway. When she texted me again an hour and forty-five minutes before we were supposed to meet, I thought for sure she was canceling this time, but she was just asking if I wanted to come over for dinner first. That was surprising, but I realized that because I promised not to pursue her, I'm like a dog that has earned the privilege of playing in the yard without a leash because I can be trusted not to run across the street. She just refers to toasted cheese sandwiches as cheese sandwiches and still puts mayonnaise on them, but she pronounces it “mannaise”. Then when we got there she insisted on buying me concessions as reimbursement for her ticket. She loves doing nice things for people but selfishly wants to deny them that same pleasure, and tries to prevent them from doing nice things for her. At my birthday party, the other guys had to block her out of the kitchen so they could wash her dishes. And this time around we were supposed to share the Kettle Corn - the wonderful, wonderful Kettle Corn - but she only ate one handful. The event itself was very nice as well. The Journey Tribute Band sounded spot-on. When Ryan Innes sang, he was the blackest white guy I'd ever heard, and I said as much, and Debbie said she would put it on her quote wall. Finally. And the fireworks were good and the laser show was good and the patriotic farmer accolades were good, but I'm sure no one is interested in a point-by-point recap and I'm not interested in writing one either. The Mormon SectionFrom the Deseret News: "A 29-year-old mother of two died Monday, June 20, during a Church trek re-enacting the Mormon pioneer exodus west. Meaghan Lee Querry Blair of Rogers, Arkansas, began to experience problems near the end of a seven-mile hike through 95-degree heat on the first day of the trek." At the risk of sounding insensitive, this just confirms my opinion that Trek is stupid and I'm grateful I was never forced to participate in it. I learned in Primary that "You don't have to pull a handcart, leave your fam'ly dear, or walk a thousand miles or more, to be a pioneer!" So I see no need to re-enact past pioneering instead of doing some real pioneering of one kind or another in the present. The Music SectionI know it's hard to discern the lyrics, but after the invention of the internet there's really no excuse for people to still think that "Born in the USA" is a patriotic song. The actual lyrics of the verses are as follows: Born down in a dead man's town The first kick I took was when I hit the ground End up like a dog that's been beat too much Till you spend half your life just covering up Got in a little hometown jam So they put a rifle in my hand Sent me off to a foreign land To go and kill the yellow man Come back home to the refinery Hiring man said "son if it was up to me" Went down to see my V.A. man He said "son, don't you understand" I had a brother at Khe Sahn Fighting off the Viet Cong They're still there, he's all gone He had a woman he loved in Saigon I got a picture of him in her arms now Down in the shadow of the penitentiary Out by the gas fires of the refinery I'm ten years burning down the road Nowhere to run ain't got nowhere to go News flash: "Pink Houses" by John Mellencamp is not a patriotic song either. But by all means, play them both every 4th of July and make a fool of yourself, see if I care. Make no mistake, I'm not saying they're bad songs, because I don't actually worship this country or consider it to be above criticism. Among other things, it was founded on the freedom to criticize it, and the use of that freedom is sometimes merited. I've always hated the part of "America the Beautiful" that says "Thine alabaster cities gleam, undimmed by human tears!" Is it suggesting that no one in the cities ever cries? Of course that would be absurd. But the only other interpretation I can think of is that there are human tears but the cities just don't give a crap. Because America is the greatest country in the world, so who cares about the suffering that goes on in it. Anyway, the independence of the United States from Great Britain is sort of parallel to the independence of the Star Wars galaxy from the Empire. Not really, because the British weren't nearly that bad, but the antagonists had similar accents and both conflicts ended in celebrations with fireworks. The original Ewok celebration song from "Return of the Jedi", known as "Yub Nub", was replaced in the Special Edition by a more New Age-y sounding one that I prefer, but it has a charm of its own. A disco version was created by Meco Monardo, who sadly has faded into obscurity even though his disco version of the Star Wars theme and cantina band reached number one on the Billboard Hot 100 for two weeks in 1977. There was an actual fan-made video to this song that I intended to share, but it has disappeared, so you just get the album art. That disappoints me greatly. (EDIT: That one has disappeared too, so you don't even get the album art. Geez.) Meco - Ewok CelebrationI don't feel like writing much today. My BirthdayFor my birthday, Debbie very generously made me Reese's brownies and invited me over. Then she asked if I wanted to invite her neighbor over, and I declined because I barely know him and I felt that would create a weird dynamic. Then she asked if I wanted to invite anyone else and I named off a few people and some of them came, and then I said we could invite her neighbor because it would be less weird now. Then I had to be the first one to leave so I could get to bed so I could get up early for work. Being an adult sucks. Still, it was a good day overall and it's great to have such a friend. Also my parents gave me a new laptop, and I'm glad nobody stole it because it was just sitting outside my door when I came home from work. ImmunityAt work on Friday I accidentally reached a residential number, as sometimes happens, and without saying a word was verbally abused by some jackass with the intellect of a twelve year old. There was a time when that would have hurt my feelings, but that was before I discovered that I don't care about the opinions of jackasses. Also, I don't consider "jackass" to be a bad word because it's been used in old cartoons that weren't even allowed to show Tweety Bird without feathers. Anyway, I've been more chill about stuff lately, so at Summerfest last week when I was watching one of the concerts and got pulled out of the audience to participate in one of the things on stage, my thoughts of committing harakiri dissipated within seconds. There was hardly anyone I knew watching anyway. BrexitI could say something about the UK's exit from the EU, but I'm just going to pretend that since I'm not a citizen of it and have never lived there, it's none of my bloody business. Really, with all due respect, it's quite annoying to see so many American college students pretending they know everything about the politics of countries most of them have never been to. Which leads into my next topic... The Mormon SectionMy, how times change. "No true Latter-day Saint and no true American can be a socialist or a communist or support programs leading in that direction. These evil philosophies are incompatible with Mormonism, the true gospel of Jesus Christ." - Ezra Taft Benson, Apostle, 1961 "Can a member be a Democrat and a good Mormon? That one makes me smile, because if the members who ask it could travel to some countries of the world and meet faithful members of the Church who belong to their national communist parties I fear their blood pressure might be permanently damaged." - Michael Otterson, head of public affairs, 2015 Only one of these quotes is a. less than fifty-four years old and b. published on the Church's website (as part of the total speech). Yet this is not the one that gets circulated on libertarian and conservative Facebook pages. Maybe they should stop and ask themselves why no one in church leadership has bothered to denounce socialism in decades, even though it's more pervasive than ever and supported by members overseas in the same proportion as everyone else in their countries. Maybe historical context has something to do with it. Maybe the threat of the Soviet Union specifically, more so than a particular system of economics (though Secretary Benson clearly detested that as well), has something to do with it. Earlier in the talk, for instance, he explained, "The fight against godless communism is a very real part of every man's duty who holds the priesthood. It is the fight against slavery, immorality, atheism, terrorism, cruelty, barbarism, deceit, and the destruction of human life through a kind of tyranny unsurpassed by anything in human history." Not all Communist nations are created equal. Of course, there's no need parse every word of the talk and pretend it's all correct, when it's a well-documented (if, for some, frequently ignored) fact that many if not most of his fellow Apostles disagreed with his political views and that he was rebuked more than once for using his church position to promote them. I'm not a Communist and I don't believe in communism, though I wouldn't mind some Mormons thinking so if it permanently damages their blood pressure, but I'm just saying that I don't think anyone can make an intellectually honest case that the Church has an official stance against socialism. I do think it's perfectly valid, of course, to point out that socialism and the United Order are still not the same thing. "Weird Al" Yankovic - Slime Creatures from Outer SpaceThe alien invasion series concludes with my favorite artist ever. The Most Exciting Part of My WeekIt was sometimes after nine p.m. on the evening of Tuesday, June 7, and I was making my way back home along 100 South after taking a long walk by myself as usual. I like walking in the southern and western portions of town because my standard duties and errands virtually never take me there. Anyway, when I reached Main Street I considered turning onto it to go past the Tabernacle and through Merlin Olsen Park and up the boulevard past the temple as I often do, but this time decided instead that I would rather keep going straight, or not entirely straight, as the road has a weird curve in that spot, but the same general direction. As I was crossing Main Street a police car came barreling down it, forcing me to hurry, and then turned and went the same way I was going. It only went a few feet before parking behind two or three police cars that were already there. There was one parked just a bit ahead on the other side of the street (which I was on) as well. The police officer got out of the car, and only seemed to be in a moderate hurry, but what caught my attention was the big gun he was holding. If I hadn't lost my man card in high school for liking Fergie, I could tell you what precisely what kind of gun it was, but suffice it to say that it was a long and thin gun, not the kind of little gun that cops normally carry around in their holsters. He walked quickly across the street to the side I was on and went behind a house. I continued walking, and a couple houses down from that, another police officer stood at the front door, holding one of the little guns that cops normally carry around in their holsters, pointing it through the door which was propped open just a bit. I was close enough to see through the door what I at first thought was some kind of reflection, but quickly realized was another guy, pointing a gun right back at him. He had a mustache. At this point I wanted nothing more in the world than to stay and watch, but I figured that would create more hassle for the police and piss them off. In fact, I was surprised that so far nobody had yelled at me to go away. So I kept walking past that house, and at the back corner a third police officer was standing there, not even holding a gun, but just standing there as if appraising its resale value. I kept walking to the end of the block and then turned to look back, reasoning that from this distance my prospects of accidentally being killed and devastating four or five people weren't so bad. What I think I saw was one of the officers leading a child away from the house (from this distance I couldn't tell boy or girl, but it was a small person), not seeming to be in any particular hurry, and directing her/him to get under the police car. Maybe in the car, but it looked like under to me. And then he looked and saw me at the end of the block watching, and he didn't say anything but I felt like maybe I was still too close and should just go home. I'm really surprised that no one seemed to care I was there. But I continued on my way, and said a brief prayer that the officers would be protected from injury and death, and be able to protect any civilians from injury and death, and be able to apprehend whoever they were trying to apprehend. Now I can't find anything about it in the news. Maybe I just hallucinated the whole thing. But I'd think that if I had, I would have been the hero, and the city would have showered me with money, and I would have kept just enough to jump-start my career and given the rest to trustworthy charities. NormalitySometimes I forget the most important things, even if seguing into them was the reason I brought something up in the first place. To recap, last week I visited Debbie and we talked about psychology. I said something about not being normal and she rhetorically asked, "What's normal?" And partly because her voice sounds like Zooey Deschanel, I thought of one of the decent moments from the mediocre "Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy" movie. Arthur: Normality? We can talk about normality until the cows come home. Ford: What is normal? Trillian: What is home? Zaphod: What're cows? She opined that everyone has problems (true) so everyone is normal (not true). If that were true, no one would ever have been burned as a witch. If it were true, no one would ever be an outcast in high school (or college). If it were true, all the movies about losers and underdogs saving the day and achieving their dreams would have to be about something else. The fact is, there is an accepted spectrum of variation constituting normality and anything beyond it is weird. Not accepting this makes her good at compassion but bad at psychology. From Wikipedia: "Neurotpyical or NT, an abbreviation of neurologically typical, is a neologism widely used in the autistic community as a label for people who are not on the autism spectrum. However, the term eventually became narrowed to refer to those with strictly typical neurology. In other words, this refers to anyone who does not have any developmental disabilities such as some forms of autism, dyslexia, developmental coordination disorder, or ADHD. The term was later adopted by both the neurodiversity movement and the scientific community. (emphasis added)" Because we have made it taboo to not be normal, it's politically correct to claim that "everyone is normal", just like we have to pretend that "everyone is beautiful" so we can continue being shallow without guilt. Sunday EveningI went to visit the old people like usual, but there's another group that goes a little earlier and sings, and last week I went with Debbie and we sang with them, and on Saturday I ran into one of them and he said "Are you going to sing with us tomorrow?" and I felt obligated, but lo and behold, it was just me and him and one other guy. I depend on having enough other people to drown me out, so that was daunting. It wasn't so bad as we just went room to room, but when we went to the cafeteria to perform for a bunch of people at once, one of the guys was occupied with the piano and left just two of us singing. Everyone turned their hearing aids off. Not really, but that would have been funny. Then I headed off to ward prayer, the ward prayer of the ward that I'm actually in (36th) rather than the one I've been attending (35th), and I was about two meters away when this guy who isn't in the 35th ward anymore either pulled up and said "Going to ward prayer?" and I said yes and he said "Hop in" and took me away from it to the other one. There, Mackenzie and Charlie instructed us to get into groups and play "Two Truths and a Lie" (where, just in case anyone isn't aware, you say three statements and people have to figure out which is a lie). I like that game because I say the same thing every time: "I'm funny, I'm smart, and I'm good-looking." Then everyone laughs and someone says, "Well, we know you're funny." And then usually they're like "Aww, that's not fair to make us choose; do a different one." But this time they took it seriously and spent a couple minutes trying to figure it out. A couple of them were leaning toward "smart" but felt bad saying so. They gave up and made me say which one I think it is. More Expert PraiseSo I posted and braced myself for constructive criticism. The page is here, and again, if you disagree with this expert opinion you're wrong. Things that Tempt Me to Renounce My CitizenshipNeither of these people (notice I do not say "men" as that designation only applies to one of them) should be in prison. Mr. Brooker should just be left alone, and Turner should just be castrated. Things We Learn from "Mega Mind"1. As long as you don't touch the ground, you can survive a fall from any height with no ill effects, no matter how abruptly you stop. 2. Police and civilians alike will forgive you for allegedly murdering their idol if you promise not to do it anymore. 3. The bad guy never gets the girl. This one, however, is not accurate. Mega Mind's problem was that he was a wishy-washy bad guy. He had too many "feelings" and was unwilling to commit to complete and total badness. Women, sensing his weakness and lack of confidence, were therefore not attracted to him. He resolved this by becoming good and liking it, but he could also have gone the other way, all the way to the dark side. Exhibit A: The Mormon SectionWhile chatting with a new friend in Rajahmundry, India I accidentally stumbled upon a little "secret" that made my day... I forgot that June 8 was the anniversary of President Kimball's revelation on priesthood. I was a teensy bit annoyed at myself because I should remember something like that after studying it for five years, but we do need to strike a proper balance between remembering the past and looking to the future. Still, as events unfolded, I fittingly commemorated it by reading "Safe Journey: An African Adventure" by Elder Glenn L. Pace. One of the main topics of this book is his struggle to gain approval for the Accra Ghana Temple. In reference to (spoiler alert) its eventual approval, he wrote something that I like enough to take out of context so it can apply to everyone's lives. "I have reflected on this point in history many times. For thirty months I had felt like I was running into a brick wall. I would get up, clean my wounds, and run again. I would run at the wall faster, slower, and from further back. I tried jumping over it and digging and crawling under it. The wall didn't fall. It didn't even budge. I just kept getting more bruised and bloodied. Then, when it was time, the Lord just gently blew it over." S.P.O.C.K - Not HumanReturning now to the alien invasion theme that was recently begun and then interrupted, here's possibly my favorite song (it's hard to choose) from S.P.O.C.K. The titular refrain is creepy because it makes me think of Europeans discovering Africans, or anti-vaxxers discovering autistic children. Newly Posted EssaysThese are from my recently concluded Creative Non-Fiction Writing class. Long after this post has faded into the mists of time, they will still also be readily accessible from the Essays page. The professor, who is a published creative non-fiction author and whose job it is to know about this stuff, likes them, so if you don't, you're wrong. Ass Burgers In Defense of Pickup Lines Chasing Kelsey Also, though my novel "Space Girls" has not been published and won't be until at least 2020, it has already garnered blurbs from several people. Zack, Prince Among MenI have been most negligent in failing to mention the great act of kindness that was performed for me a few weeks ago when, after waiting at a red light, I rode my bike into a crosswalk and one of the pedals immediately popped off. As I swore and hastily retreated back to the sidewalk, a ginger-bearded guy named Zack pulled up with his wife Katie or Kathy and baby whose name I forget (Luke maybe?) and offered to give me and the bike a ride home. Almost immediately, however, he thought better of that idea and decided they should take me to his friend's bike shop to get it fixed instead. I accepted because I was broke and figured he would be blessed for his generosity. Out of consideration I just took an old pedal that doesn't match the other one at all, instead of a new set, and now whenever I see it I will remember what a great guy Zack is. Jewish Skin CareOn Memorial Day, I was looking for a copy of "A Giraffe and a Half" by Shel Silverstein, which is not to be found at the library or at Hasting's. I got desperate enough to try "Fun Unlimited" at the mall, which didn't have it either, and on my way out I was intercepted by a girl visiting from Israel to sell skin care products from the Dead Sea. "You there, may I have a few moments of your time?" she called out. "Are you married? You have girlfriend? Of course, you have seven girlfriends, one for each day of the week, yes?" Her warm demeanor and smooth sales tactics, in conjunction with her ethnicity and broken English that made me extra cautious to not accidentally be racist, kept me riveted, grinning like an idiot as she held my arm and rubbed it with this stuff, even as I realized that it was way too expensive for me at this time. She twisted my arm by offering a huge time-sensitive discount. I didn't believe for a moment that this was exclusive for me and needed to be kept a secret, of course, but still... I don't worry much about my appearance, but her description of what this would do to my skin sounded exquisite... Another determining factor was her promise that if I bought it she would take me to two movies. I realized then that there were two branching paths available, and one involved gaining a new friend from another country, culture and religion, and the other involved never seeing her again, and the former would hopefully be worth [redacted] dollars. So with any luck, I just bought a friend. She has my number and if she doesn't keep her commitment, I know where she works. So that's how I ended up with less than fifteen dollars to live off of for two weeks. Fortunately I've had plenty of practice at that sort of thing. StrineThat evening I found out there's an Australian person in the ward combined with my ward, and I would have met her a lot sooner if I were attending my ward, but life is full of trade offs like that. I thought at first that she was British, which would have lent an amusing irony to the American flag she made for Memorial Day out of marshmallows, grapes, and blueberries. Since she's from a white English-speaking country (sort of; see below), I allowed myself to be sort of racist and listen to her talk just because of her accent, and I decided that asking a ton of questions about the accuracy of Australian stereotypes was worth the risk of annoying her and ruining a potential friendship. There was no need to worry, though, because when I decided that enough was enough, she said "Come on, what else you got?" So I asked her if she could arrange to teach us all Strine. And that was shamelessly disingenuous, since mainly I wanted to show off how much I already know from David Morgan-Mar's podcast interview with Professor Jack Bandicoot, head of the Department of Australian English at the University of Sydney. DMM: No doubt you are aware of the fact that many people around the globe regard the Australian dialect as being so full of peculiarities as to be almost opaque to comprehension. Prof. Bandicoot: Indeed, yes. DMM: As an expert in the subject, is there any truth to this reputation? Prof. Bandicoot: No, it's a complete furphy. DMM: So as a country, what can we do about it? Should we just cop it sweet? Prof. Bandicoot: No, bugger that for a joke. We can't have mug lairs telling porkies about us like that. I mean, fair crack of the whip! Debbie My New BFFDebbie was without roommates for two days and told me in a commiserating tone, "Now I know how awful it is." That's not the word I would use. When I came home from New York at the end of last summer to find my roommates in the process of moving, I was so happy that I started singing to the tune of a famous Willy Nelson song, "All alone again... I can't wait to be all alone again..." I thought I was going to get roommates this month, since the "For Rent" sign came down weeks ago, but here I am still alone and that's more than okay with me. The drawback of having to pay everything for utilities myself is more than outweighed by the benefits of playing my music as loud as I want, having silence whenever I want, walking around naked if I want to, sleeping on the couch every night, praying out loud wherever and whenever I want, never getting woken up by people talking or playing video games at stupid a.m., and not being excluded from social events in my own home. My roommates were great guys, of course. The only problem was that they were people. Because of Memorial Day, the campus library where I would normally go to use the computer was closed on Sunday, so I was faced with the dilemma of choosing which friend to exploit for the use of their laptop, and I chose Debbie because I don't get to see her often enough anymore since she left the best ward ever. I was going to just walk over but she insisted on coming to get me because of the rain. I didn't realize at the time that she had gotten roommates by now because none of them were home when we got there. She lingered nearby to make sure I didn't access her novel or do anything that would contract malware. She apologized for the slowness of her computer, but that was all right because I was in no hurry to leave. When I did, she insisted on driving me again. As soon as she dropped me off I took an eight block walk just to spite her. The next day I remembered some more things I needed to do, so I went over again, and this time she did her makeup in the kitchen right next to me. I asked, "Do you always do your makeup in the kitchen?" She said, "No, but it isn't polite to desert a guest." Then she came over into the living room where I was to plug in her curling iron and do her hair. With all this going on I found it difficult to remain focused on the tasks at hand, as I felt fascinated to observe what seemed like forbidden and secret rituals. I saw her putting makeup on a guy's face in a talent show (and I so desperately wish I could post it on YouTube without engendering his lifelong hatred) but this was the real deal. But I also felt betrayed because all this time I thought the curl in her hair came naturally. I wonder how many other things I thought I knew about her are just smoke in the wind. A couple days later, normal computer access restored, I had the temerity to call and invite myself over just because I was having a horrible day and wanted to talk. This time her hair looked different and she was glistening all over. She said that was from running on a treadmill. We talked about the horrible thing that was going on and then shifted to more pleasant topics, like psychology. She talked about things like how if the doctor consistently rings a bell before tapping someone on the knee, they become conditioned to kick reflexively whenever they hear the bell, without the tap. "So," I said, "stuff like that is accessing the more primitive parts of human brains." "Yep," she agreed. So, I thought but didn't dare say, that's just one more proof that we're a product of evolution. She doesn't like the idea of human evolution because she thinks it precludes morality. Someday I will build up the courage to gently correct her misconceptions about that. Adam Sandler - Love StinksThis is my second favorite scene/song from "The Wedding Singer" (my first favorite is not appropriate to share with a family audience). I think the fat man looks like Paul McCartney. Am I the only one who thinks that? Also, whoever did the Spanish subtitles took some creative liberties with the refrain. |
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- Amelia Whitlock "I don't know how well you know Christopher Randall Nicholson, but... he's trolling. You should read his blog. It's delightful." - David Young About the AuthorC. Randall Nicholson is a white cisgender Christian male, so you can hate him without guilt, but he's also autistic and asexual, so you can't, unless you're an anti-vaxxer, in which case the feeling is mutual. This blog is where he periodically rants about life, the universe, and/or everything. Archives
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