Tag Archives: wtf?

Morning Koan

I was just looking at my spam comments, and I have one question: Why would I want a GPS-enabled electronic cigarette? How would that… how would that help anybody?

Unquestionable

“New York educators banned references to ‘dinosaurs,’ ‘birthdays,’ ‘Halloween’ and dozens of other topics on city-issued tests. That is because they fear such topics ‘could evoke unpleasant emotions in the students.’ Dinosaurs, for example, call to mind evolution, which might upset fundamentalists; birthdays are not celebrated by Jehovah’s Witnesses; and Halloween suggests paganism.” {From: NYC Bans Mention of Dinosaurs, Dancing, Birthdays On Student Tests – Slashdot}

This all sounds highly ridiculous, but I can’t say that it doesn’t make at least some small amount of sense. Back when I was in school I saw many students try to argue their way out of having to answer story problems in math class by picking apart the logic of their narratives:

“A train leaves Cleveland going west at 30 miles per hour? Trains can go faster than that! And everyone knows that the tracks to Cleveland aren’t laid out due west–it’s more like north-north-west! I should NOT have to answer this question!”

It’s not too unreasonable to imagine a student trying to get a question thrown off a test on the basis that it mentions dinosaurs, which never existed.

Incidentally, if I ever start a band, there’s a high probability that it will be called Dancing Dinosaur Birthday.

Interface Design For Morons

So, let’s say you’ve got a Viewsonic projector. Let’s say that, for some reason, it’s not working. You check the manual, right? Right!

Let’s say that you’ve got a solid power light, and that the “TEMP” and “LAMP” lights are both off. According to the manual, what does this indicate?

A) The projector is in standby mode

B) The projector is powering up

C) The projector is experiencing normal operation

D) The lamp is in good condition, and is projecting a maximum brightness

E) The lamp has reached its end of life and must be changed soon. The lamp will continue to operate until it fails . Change the lamp. If the lamp is off, then the ballast will become malfunction

Would it surprise you that the answer is each and everyone one of those options? That’s some good engineering.

Incidentally, if you go to the Viewsonic support site and select “projector” from the list of products that you need help with, it gives up immediately and tries to send you to livechat… but of course, there’s no one to chat with.

Hello, person reading this–do you work for Viewsonic? If you do, good. Because I suspect that’s punishment enough.

Nightmare Redux

“Someone Is Remaking the Garbage Pail Kids Movie, Apparently on Purpose.” Sweet Jesus, no. The cards were charming, in their juvenile way, but that Garbage Pail Kids movie was horrifying. Even David Lynch can’t bear watching it. (I can’t prove this, but itsounds right.)

Incidentally: If they’re going to keep making old television dramas into wacky film comedies, then I think it’s completely okay for filmmakers to turn slightly off-putting children’s fare into cinematic expressions of dread and mortal tension. It’s the only way we’re going to get an HR Pufnstuf movie, anyway.

 

Heart Day

So: It appears to be Valentine’s Day again. Whatever, it’s cool. I think people in relationships deserve to a have a day in which to throw their tenuous connection to another desperate human being into everybody’s faces, since they’re normally so discreet and timid about it the other 364 days a year.

I don’t really have a good Valentine’s Day story to share about my own past relationships. That’s partly out of respect for the other people involved, but mostly I can’t think of any in which I come off looking like anything other than a mediocre partner. I like a certain amount of distance in a relationship, and assume that others do as well: “I should call her–but wait, it’s only been two weeks. Jeez, give the girl some space.”

Instead, let’s talk about  other people’s relationships.

One weekday, a few years ago, I went to an Italian restaurant for lunch. It was in a not-very-well-known wine-producing region, off the side of a road, surrounded by a picturesque stand of trees. It was an okay place.

As I sat there, waiting for my food, I started discretely checking out the other tables, and I slowly began to notice something. There was a distinct, but subtle, Twilight Zone vibe emerging. It was a growing sense of weirdness–the cause of which seemed to be just below a conscious level of awareness.

At the table nearest to me, there was a couple. They appeared to be married. The man was somewhere around fifty or so. He was tall, thin, and had a salt-and-pepper beard and hair thing going on. He had Caesar-style hair cut. The women he was with looked to be in either her mid-to-late thirties, or possibly early forties. Long, mousey brown hair. She was shorter than her date, with wide hips and glasses. I don’t think it’s too much of a jump to suggest that the first preset on their Mercedes’ stereo was an NPR station, but the most common sound in the vehicle was likely either jazz or a baseball game.

That’s not the weird part.

I was slowly beginning to realize where the peculiar sensation I was feeling was coming from. And then suddenly, it was as clear as glass. I took a good, hard, rude look at the table next to them. And there they were.

No, wait. There they were.

A near identical couple–as near enough as to make no difference. Another silver fox, another set of friendly, child-bearing hips. Another pair of glasses. Another brown cardigan. Another Mercedes with a child’s car seat in the back.

I rubbed my eyes. I took off my glasses and tried again.

What were the odds? I wondered. What where the odds that a couple and their doppelgangers would decide to visit the same restaurant, at the same time, on the same day? Pretty remote, I thought. And yet, it was so.

I turned my head to look at the table behind me, on some Fortean hunch. And there they were. Again.

Things went a bit swimmy, but I craned my neck around, finally taking it all in. In this small restaurant, on this strange day, I counted six virtually indistinguishably similar couples. If they all had to go to the bathroom at the same time, I wondered if any of them would end up back with the people with whom they’d arrived. To be fair, I’m sure they all had distinct personalities and varied outlooks on life, but if the ensuing conversation involved a discussion of someone named Madison’s progress in Gymboree, the swtich up might not have been noticed for a couple of hours at least.

In my heart, I know that the world is a teeming menagerie of unique and heterogeneous individuals–a vast array of diverse human beings representing every imaginable physical configuration. But no, not at this restaurant.

The thing I found so uncomfortable about the situation wasn’t the stark evidence of reality’s own copy/paste hackwork; nor was it the realization that, even though I am normally out of place in most places, I was especially so in this particular locale. It was the fact that all these similar people had to know that they were all currently drinking wine and eating brushcetta whilst surrounded by their own virtual clones.

Empathetic as I am, I could not get a bead on what they must have been feeling. Did they find it comforting to be with so many people who were so similar to themselves? Was it an assault on their sense of hard-won individuality? Were they too relaxed and centered to even notice? Being a rather neurotic sort of man myself, I had plenty of discomfort to go around, if they needed it.

I suspect that yes, they probably did notice. And I also suspect that, if they really cared to think about it at all, they probably found it harmlessly amusing. The easy, confident satisfaction they all seemed to radiate implied the kind of serenity that would remain unmarred by such inconsequential happenstances. They would all go home to their golden retrievers and leather couches, and probably not even remember the scene.

But I would remember. I would gnaw on my bread stick and my marginal, fringe existence, and remember. I would be comforted by the fact that the contentment that each of them had found was rare, but not unrepeatable.

Happy Valentine’s Day.

I Can Finally Shop Happily

“Breaking news! It’s not just women steering carts around — men can go to the grocery store and shop for food. And they don’t want to be marketed to like they’re females, which means companies are learning how to skew ads and create grocery aisles specifically devoted to men.” {From: Guess What? Men Are Also Capable Of Grocery Shopping – The Consumerist}

Well, finally. I’ve been at the edge of starvation for my whole life–because, as a dude, shopping in supermarkets causes me to feel all oogy. Here I’ve been, looking for nourishment at auto parts stores, western apparel retailers, and Harley Davidson dealerships, finding little more than over-priced beef jerky, and wishing and hoping that some supermarket out there would someday learn how to cater to my masculine sensibilities.

Red Felt

I really had no intention of seeing the new Muppet’s movie, but now that I know that it’s nothing more than a bunch of anti-capitalist propaganda, I suppose I’ll have to take a break from my water fluoridation efforts and get my ass down to the theater. Who knew that being in thrall to a global left-wing conspiracy would require ingesting so much mediocre entertainment? Well, at least it’s not the Smurfs again.

Indefinite Detention For Everybody!

“The US Senate’s Defense Authorization Bill redefines America as a “battlefield” and authorizes US troops to conduct military arrests of civilians on US soil, and to indefinitely detain citizens without charge or trial.” {From:  Boing Boing}

Um, I don’t want to tell anyone how to live their lives or anything, and if this sort of thing doesn’t bother you, hey, no big deal, whatever. But, on the other hand, if you maybe kind of want to write your senator, there’s a form letter here.