A Slippery Cyan Farmer

He is a slippery, cyan farmer.

^

need ,

I just found a sheet of note paper on which was written the above inscription in my hand. What was I thinking? It's really fun for me to find things that I wrote years earlier and now have not only no recollection of but also no idea why I was writing them.

Also on that sheet of note paper is a derivation of the Trapezoidal Rule for numerical integration of an arbitrary function of a single variable.

Things to do today:
1. I need to do about 3 loads of laundry
2. We should wash my sleeping bag for you
3. Increase the fidelity of plans for a trip to England

I opened the second jar of yoghurt today. It was thick, and yoghurty, and quite good. You should have some from this second jar; it's really much better than the first bit that we ate. I think, next time, it would be good to use whole milk rather than 2%.

Slippery, cyan,
-Ryan

Interspecies collaboration

This is totally cool.

After collecting the [caddis fly] larvae from their normal environments, he relocates them to his studio where he gently removes their own natural cases and then places them in aquaria that he fills with alternative materials from which they can begin to recreate their protective sheaths. He began with only gold spangles but has since also added the kinds of semi-precious and precious stones (including turquoise, opals, lapis lazuli and coral, as well as pearls, rubies, sapphires, and diamonds) seen here. The insects do not always incorporate all the available materials into their case designs, and certain larvae, Duprat notes, seem to have better facility with some materials than with others. Additionally, cases built by one insect and then discarded when it evolves into its fly state are sometimes recovered by other larvae, who may repurpose it by adding to or altering its size and form.

James Bond: Pawn of the Western Propoganda Machine

My father's views on the article mentioned below - he was able to see the original films when they were first released. He's that old. :

"But it all was tied up so closely to its time. The West was drunk over
unfounded claims of superior military power, technology was peeping its
head and amazing the donkey riders in the streets of London, the shock
of Soviet Sputnik only enlivened the imagination but pressured the
propagandists for more make belief.

When I watched Dr. Who in Leicester Square Warner Brothers theater, I
recall a mixture of three feelings: excitement at the unshakably self
confidence of Jamsie (something to emulate?), his gadgets, which were
not so many, but a distinct feeling of disgust at the subtle whipping of
anti-Soviet feelings.

The title of "From Russia with Love" was my confirmation - although, in
a sense, it did not take direct digs at the achievements of those who
sent the first man in space and helped many countries withstand the
onslaught of Uncle Sam... Still it achieved that aim in another subtle
and smooth take: by simply demonstrating that the reaction of Soviet
officials is exactly what the worst Right wing tabloids had been telling
the innocent sheep. Watching in the darkness the, dazed and bewildered,
how a single man, "with 2 liters of alcohol coursing in his system"
RELIEVE them of a nightmare the propagandists wanted them to have.

It was the time. And Jamsie Bondo was the man."

I'm assuming he meant Dr. No and not Dr.Who and his reference to "Jamsie Bondo" is really a reference to "Jerzy Bondov" from The Living Daylights.

James Bond: Incompetent Boob

Those of you who know me may not know that I am a James Bond Fan, as they say. I've seen almost every James Bond film, barring anything starring Pierce Brosnan as he is dreadful. More dreadful than, say, George Lazenby. Maybe.

Anyway. This article espouses the poor quality of Bond's spying abilities as demonstrated in the movie Goldfinger (for a more informative link, go here). For example, his managing to get two sisters killed, both of whom he has coaxed into bed with him at some point or another (one by raping in a stable yard!).

At first, I was upset and disappointed by the article. Who was James Bond if he wasn't a successful, magnetic, attractive (albeit usually somewhat flabby with the exception of Daniel Craig's portrayal ...sigh) debonair super spy, full of smarts and class and romanticism with a touch of a wifebeating devil-may-care attitude...?

Then I remembered that the reason I watch James Bond is the kitsch and the tragic ludicrousness... or perhaps the ludicrous tragedy.

And nothing is more ludicrously tragic than a drunk, incompetent spy.

You're stripping all the life force off of that swiss chard, man.

Today I was fortunate enough to have been made aware of these:

My brother brought them to my attention and we came to this end:

Can't you just imagine the person wearing these, speeding down the highway at 50 mph in a Prius, arguing about Burning Man on his iPhone, wearing those weird woven Palazzo pants that all the tourists in South America buy, with some over priced soy latte drink?

Can you pass The Mull of Kintyre test?

My brother sent me this link, with the question "Can you pass the Mull of Kintyre test?"

It's British bureaucracy at it's finest: to have a designation for erection appropriateness and to make is as arbitrary as a rudely shaped bit of geography.

I had a lot of responses;

"No. I fail it, constantly."

To which he responded:

"I'm quite disturbed that you can take it at all."

I countered:

"Well. The reason I fail it so resoundingly is that I have a constant erection.

In a jar."

Then:

"Actually, it's because of my little problem."

Finally I descend into childishness*:

"That's funny because I've got a thingy that looks just like a peninsula!"

And then idiocy:

"Mah Mull of Kintyre is too big.

Mah Mull of Kintyre is Too Big!

Mah Mull of Kintyre is TOOO BIG!

I AM A BANANA."


*(1m53s)

Charmingly awful

I'm collecting some of my favorite pictures from Lulu.


This is along the same lines as wanting to decorate a room in my house entirely with original artwork found at thrift shops and garage sales.


I like the idea that someone poured their heart and soul into something absolutely mediocre - whether or not they are aware of their mediocrity. I think that the idea is beautiful and smacks of effort that is so rare in today's sarcastic*, lazy world, albeit that it is somewhat painful for me, the observer.

Not to say that these people's books are necessarily bad, I can't say as I have not read them. I can say, however, that their pictures sure are.

I'd like to mention as I have already said, that I love the principal of Lulu, I just wish it was better organized. It is the ultimate representation of American democracy - the ability to take things into your own hands, faulted by it's own lousy programming. The opportunity for free speech for everyone, even those who possibly should not have it.

Coming Soon....

This blog, as seen on The Internet, published by Lulu.


*I am aware of the "pot-kettle" implications of this statement.

Plans

I will be here this weekend.

And then here.

And finally, here.

Oh Lulu Self Publisher, how I do hate thee…

Oh Lulu Self Publisher, how I do hate thee…

The principal is so nice

But my wrists I want to slice

Your system is so awful

It should be unlawful

How frustrating and clunky

Full of bugs and junky

Oh Lulu, I do hate thee…

And now, A Scotsmen with a Computer

I sympathise with this man and salute the police officer for being so understanding.

We made cheese

http://biology.clc.uc.edu/Fankhauser/Cheese/neufchatel/neufchatel.htm

We made neufchatel cheese. That biology professor has a recipe for
pretty much what we made.

-Ryan


Ryan and I made cheese this weekend. I had a particularly frustrating day at work on Friday, no thanks to the technical geniuses at Lulu.com. (I believe that Lulu hires people who weren't savvy enough to maintain positions at Fry's).

True to form, Ryan suggested making cheese upon my request for "something fun" to do, which is what we did on Saturday evening and part of Sunday. Interspersed with watching Fargo and Drop Dead Fred, of course, two memorable films.

The cheese turned out soft and salty, very creamy and delicious.

Next step, I'm going to suggest this to Ryan, is that we make an entire meal from scratch.

Soup, bread, cheese, fresh salad and PIE. All from ingredients picked and grown by us or at least locally grown/produced.

Following this will be our local stew incorporating indigenous plants.

Guns, Cold Beer and a Wedding Dress

Theme:

Marriage. Children. Settling down.

I can’t stop running into it.

Right now, it’s because I feel like I’m being left behind, like I missed some sort of memo, like my avoidance is going to result in my eternal unhappiness. Eternal unhappiness, because I see girls who are so adamant that that is what they want and are so sure that they’ll be able to stop worrying about everything when they are finally married and pregnant. And what if they’re right?

I don’t see the same stability that my contemporaries do. Instead, I see the commitment of having to stay in one place, the stress of having a sick child or being dependant on someone else – and thus being restricted. Arguments about money, compromising your lifestyle and the general worry and responsibility that comes with being part of a family.

I had a practice family for 3 years and I’m sure my fears were enhanced by the experience. When you make that kind of a commitment to someone, there is no going back. You put up with things, change in ways that might not necessarily be right for you and buy furniture you don’t like, all for the sake of keeping everything together.

Despite seeing all of this, I can’t shake of the nagging thought that I’m missing something. It’s not that I don’t want to get married and have children; it’s that I’m afraid to.

I’m not thrilled by the thought of a proposal, I’m nauseated by the attention it will illicit.

I have no need to “have a day”; I don’t think it’s my right as a female and having everyone make a fuss over me is not my idea of fun.

I don’t want to talk to people about babies and being pregnant, the idea that I might not have anything better to talk about is absolutely upsetting. Also, I am petrified of the idea of someone I don’t know rubbing my stomach and am concerned that were it to happen, I might have a somewhat violent reaction.

One might argue that I am generalizing. I don’t disagree, however my reaction is to my peers, who are excited and obsessed by these generalizations. I want someone to explain it to me without blaming their mothers or the media.

Sometimes I get the urge to animatedly and firmly tell my close friends that are in the wedding head-zone, that they should not be defined by their mates and that happiness is achieved by exploration and reflection, not by tying a man to themselves and proving adequacy through competitive child rearing. Occasionally though (and I don’t believe that it’s necessarily incongruous with the earlier sentiment) I think, maybe having someone express to me, possibly using more than words, that he wants to spend his life with me might be kind of nice.

And his little dog, too...

Who else finds this absolutely offensive?

It's a portion of www.whitehouse.gov that is devoted to Barney, the dog. You may remember him from starring in such films as Where in the White House is Miss Beazley? (Barney Cam III, 2004), Barney has found Miss Beazley (2005), Barney's Holiday Extravaganza (Barney Cam V, 2006), and My Barney Valentine (2007).

Its a testament to how seriously this administration takes it's voters that taxpayer's money has been used to have this on the same site used to research foreign policy, defense, education, health care and any number of topics of much more importance.

This weekend

This weekend

I had an awesome weekend.

Friday:
I made my first whiskey sours, from scratch I might add. I shan't go into the details of the evening, sufficed to say a good time was had by all.

People should have good times more often.

Saturday:
Larke picked me up, we headed to Reno for the REK show, picking up Nik + Amy in Davis. I can't explain the singular enjoyment of a road trip. It doesn't matter the destination although a good one helps.

I got back yesterday evening, cleaned my room and did laundry while Ryan read me a Roal Dahl story.