But Can She Pass a Voight-Kampff Test?

Looks like the Japanese are working on their first Replicant, a chick naturally. So, which happens first? Terminator? The Matrix? Westworld? Ghost in the Shell?

And if you don't know what a Voight-Kampff Test is, shame on you.

Most Pointless Blog: Quantum Mnemonics

I just gotta get in Count Longardeaux's book!

And the Winner Is...

The results of the 2005 World Stupidity Awards are in.

Stupidest Government of the Year: Canada

Stupidest Statement of the Year: "They never stop thinking of ways of harming America, and neither do we." - President George W. Bush

Stupidest Man of the Year: Ann Coulter

Stupidist Woman of the Year: Paris Hilton

Stupidest Show of the Year: The Simple Life

Dumbest Moment of the Year: Ashlee Simpson's lip-synching performance on SNL

Stupidest Movie of the Year: Alien vs. Predator

Stupidest Trend of the Year: Crystal meth

Stupidity Award for Reckless Endangerment of the Planet: Kim Jong Il

Media Outlet Which Has Best Furthered Ignorance: Fox News

Stupidest Award Show of the Year: The World Stupidity Awards

[Addendum: Thanks to some oh-so-helpful comment, I've added the actual link to the news story reporting these. You can also visit the Stupidity Awards site.]

Two Steps Forward (Hands up!) Shake It All About

In the never ending world of Top 10 lists (or bottom 10, if you're Stong Bad), CNET felt the need to release their "Top 10 Web Fads". Inexplicably the Hamster Dance topped the list, beating out Blogs and the Star Wars kid. I thought this was a list of fads, not blights upon mankind. (Ye-gads! They even have "Fresh Hampster Tracks!" Alvin, Simon & Theodore should sue!) Personally, my favorite version is here. I work out all sorts of stress through proper visualization of my stressors.

Cos'... You're Too Shy Shy...

Oh, sweet fancy Moses, Kajagoogoo is reforming. They're working on a new album and performing.

That sound? One of those Seven Seals they keep talking about.

Happy National Diddling... What?

[Ed note: If you're the hyper-sensitive type, go ahead & skip this one.]

Japanese culture has a rather interesting penchance for taking english words and mashing them into phrases uniquely their own. You're undoubtedly familiar with "anime", short for animation, but they've also got gems like Wap'ro (word processor), Rorikon (lolita complex) and L's favorite Cosp're (costume play). Well, I learned of a new one... one I wasn't quite ready for. In Japan, the day July 21 can be pronounced as "0h-na-ni-i" which, if you're the Biblical bookworm sounds loosely like our man Onan. Yeah, that one... Anyways, today, Japan has apparently turned this bit of wordplay into one of the ubiquitous National [insert silly pet cause here] Day we seem to enjoy. Read it for yourselves, but be warned. I haven't been assaulted with that many euphamisms since the famous "Nudge-Nudge Wink-Wink" Monty Python sketch.

And yes, we U.S. have our own version. Circle May 7, if you're so inclined.

The Stupidest Dog in the World

When I was a kid, I had a dog. A stupid dog. We're lucky Pablov didn't have my dog because he would've tossed the whole "conditioned response" thing as a bad idea brought on by some milk gone sour. There was no cause & effect in my dog's world, just a bunch of random events. I'd catch him digging at the fence, scold him and he'd look at me like I had capriciously decided to harass him. I'd walk away he'd go "what the hell was that all about?", then go back to digging. Chase his tail? You betcha. Wave the end of his tail at him and he's "Oh crap! There's that thing again!" and around he goes until he falls over dizzy. Loveable, but dumb as a box of rocks.

I don't believe in reincarnation, but if I did... this, is my dog.

Could You Blame Them?

So... some group's offering to beam our blogs into space. Certain endeavours like L's bits of whimsy notwithstanding, beaming the average blog (including mine) into deep space for alien perusal has got be the surest way to reduce our planet to ashes in a manner that would make Doug Adams smile.

I Just Don't Get It....

That it. I can't wrap my brain around this one. Reports say that the London terrorists (not bombers, not activists... I'll settle for murders, thugs, bastards) were home grown from Leeds. That's bad enough, but what blew my mind was that one was apparently a teacher of disabled children.

How do you do that? How do you go from caring for young children one moment to blowing people up the next? I just don't get it...

The Obligatory Hurricane Post

As you've undoubtedly heard (and I belatedly report) my state had its latest in a long series of encounters with a hurricane. I survived just fine, but I had some observations.

1. Dennis' visit only reconfirmed my opinion that TV reporters are idiots. At this point, I'm used to the local types going into histrionics at the mere whiff of tropical weather, the old "Omigawd!We'reAllGonnaDieeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!" But now we've moved up the food chain, thanks to cable news. I got a full diet of Andersen Cooper standing out there in Pensacola, just freaking out as a Ramada sign came crashing down at his hotel. It was like the Weeee! song, only without the squirrel.... No, really, that's what he sounded like. Flip the channel and Fox and MSNBC are playing the same stupid song. Morons.
   
2. Hurricanes like weekends. I can only assume this because the past 5 have all landed between Friday and Sunday. (And I checked!) I'm especially bitter about this one as Charlie foiled my plans last year to be with Dudette on her birthday (I instead spent the night at my parents as a mandatory evacuation had descended upon me). I had to reschedule for a month later, just in time for Ivan. I ended up not making it to Dudette's until October. In between, Frances screwed with my Miami trip to see Tiesto. (I saw him, but I had to play "race the hurricane" the next day...) Why can't a hurricane arrive on a Tuesday? I don't have plans on a Tuesday.
3. People have no sense of priority. Just on the off chance Dennis got too close, I had hit the store for a few odds-n-ends, topping of the supplies if you will. I guess they already done their supply shopping, because the other 4 "gentlemen" (quotes mine) in line all had 24-packs of their favorite beer, one in each hand. This happened last year too. Potential disaster lurks and they're more concerned about getting their load on. See my last sentence in item #1.
4. I still wouldn't live in Phoenix.
   

PS The Weee! Song is proof positive that the internet is a thing of beauty.

Apparently *I'm* Unclear on the Concept.

Apparently the BBC thinks "terrorist" is a bad word or something. There's a report that they've edited the phrase out of some of their reports for not wanting to make "emotional or value judgements." Funny, I thought blowing innocent people up was a "bad" thing... I guess I'm being too judgemental or moralistic.

Idiots.

Update: I'm happy to report the Beeb found its backbone. Once again, terrorism is as terrorism does.

Keep On Hugging It!

Strong Bad gives his Bottom 10. I personally liked #11.

A "Howl"ing Good Time

Ok, so it was a bad pun, but it was an excellent movie.

I'm talking about Howl's Moving Castle, Hayao Miyazaki's latest masterpiece. I could gush over this movie for pages, so I'll save you the review... so long as you go see it. I mean it. Go see this movie. At 2 hours, it might be a bit long for wee ones, but if you're looking for something full of charm and wonder, that tells a tale of love and the human spirit, this is the flick for you.

Forget Norway!

Kenya's got lions and tigers.

(Note: This site is suitable only for frazzled parents who desperately need to keep their toddlers distracted for some unspecified amount of time. Supposedly "sane" adults should watch the live action version.)

And remember: Free snorkel with every visit.

My Abortion of a Day

I should've stayed in bed today.

No, wait. That's not good enough. Let me try again.

In a previous life, I was a professional puppy-kicker.

That's about the only way to explain off the massive amount of karma I burned off today. I'd say I had paid up for next year's membership in the It Socks to Be Us Club, but I've already run that tally and calculated I'm good through the sun going cold.

So my car was broken into this morning. Yup, life beech-slapped me around 8:30am when I walked out to my beloved RSX to notice... No, wait, there was no "notice". Notice suggests the presence of an odd and previously unheard noise registering in your audial pathways. No, there was only "walk to the passenger side to dump my work sack and behold the thousands and thousands bits of tempered glass on my roof, on the asphalt, on the passenger seat, just about everywhere you could imagine save for the window frame of my passenger door. All of them twinkling in the morning sun, mocking me.

You can choose your expletive of choice because I pretty much muttered them all. Flowers wilted, young tender ears burned, the earth shuddered. I had to call TheCompany and tell them I may or may not be in, call the police to get a report, call glass companies and get estimates, realize my deductible is more and even if it weren't, I dare not make a claim for fear of my insurance dropping for... surprise, surprise... actually using it, then try to find a place that could actually do the job today. (They say 24/7 service - that's just for some bubble-gum-popping nail-filing type to take your call. No one said they'd actually do anything...) I finally found place, naturally quoting me more, but I had to wait until 3pm. So, not seeing a point in sitting at home fuming, not to mention racking up even more hours of work lost, I headed into the office.

(I'm not even going to touch my day at work. I mean, the lone bright spot is that my immediate boss is indeed a Cool Guy who was "do what you gotta do", but there was one person there who was working on my very last nerve and I swear it was only my not wanting to spend the afternoon in HR (or be sent home on a permanent basis) that stopped me from telling said person what was really on my mind. )

And naturally it rained. One bubble-gum-girl tried to convince me it was ok to wait until tomorrow to have my window fixed because, "There's no chance for rain today". I wanted to snap back "What state do you live in? Because it's not the state I live in." The radio-weather man said "20% in some locations". Well, if you're me, and you have busted car window with a couple of trash bag duct taped over it, the rain forecast is Metaphysical Certitude. And I don't mean some wussy little shower. No, I'm getting Dennis' Warm-Up Act. I literally had to scramble out to the parking lot and find some canopy near another building and ride out the 30 minute monsoon. During this time, I called Dudette for an impromptu It Socks to Be Us meeting, full of gallows humor because I was brushing up against that "I don't know whether to laugh or cry" feeling.

Finally 3pm rolled around, where I was privileged to lose yet even more time and pay 2 1/2 Benjamins for a replacement window. The repair man was nice enough to show me the small "scar" on the window frame where the "inexperienced thief" tried to pry the window open. Oh, goody, not only am I a victim of a crook, I'm a victim of a newbie crook. I feel so much better.

Ok, so life could be worse. My car could have been stolen. I could've been in London. But, as the saying goes, all things are relative. And relatively speaking, My. Day. Blew.

Geezamoli.

PS Apologies if what should be primo ranting falls a little short. Today has so stressed me out that I don't really have the energy. Hell, the fatigue is the the only thing that'll let me fall asleep tonight because I'm paranoid right now about the next car-jacker honing his skills on my poor little car. I want to sleep in my car with a baseball bat and just hope someone tries it again.

Update: Apparently I was not the only one beset upon by the hooliganism. A neighbor told me someone else's Integra (love them Hondas!) was broken into and another was a would-be. He apparently interrupted their attempts and was last seen wandering the parking lot with a baseball bat. I'm tempted to join him. I'm not one to advocate violence on a minor, but I would like to introduce the ones to cost me my next hour-long massage to the fine solid construction of a Louisville Slugger.

Every Vote Counts!

The annual Stupidity Awards are now taking votes. From the countless thousands of those bent on furthering mankind's ignorance, these select few can take the ultimate prize, but only with your vote! Don't wait! Cast your ballot now! Let your voice be heard!

It's Dazzle-mazing!

Happy Birthday to my favorite country, Strong Bad style!