Circumference of Darkness

It's a real book. I kid you not.

...Okay, maybe I will a little. Otherwise I'd have to end this post right here.

"Circumference of Darkness" is the first book in the most terrifying series you will ever read. Follow the journey of young Edmund Brumby as a slip of paper with naught but a room number on it leads him into the shadowy underbelly of London academia.

What will he find behind the door of classroom 42? Who is this "Miss Walters", and what does she know about the strange art referred to as "geometry"? Will Edmund ever find the answer to the ultimate question? Only time will tell.

Time, and massive commercial success spawning further books, that is. The sooner you buy your copy, the sooner Jack will run out of things to spend money on and finally submit his sequel manuscript, "Hypotenuse of Hades".


...Okay, so I actually have no idea what "Circumference of Darkness" is about at all. It's probably a lot less interesting than the descriptions it brings to my mind, but you never know. This is what comes of exploring the used book section of your local library. Try it out. Let me know what amusing things you find. If you don't find anything or are too lazy to go, tell somebody about my blog and see if they'll do it for you.

Easter Duckling

Easter has just recently passed by, full of cute little creatures, salvation for some, and devouring of chocolate effigies of afore mentioned cute little creatures for most. Nothing wrong with any of that. Perfectly normal holiday fare.

Or so I thought, until I joined my fiancées family in their yearly ritual of dying eggs. Aside from my disappointment at their not being rabbit eggs, there was little wrong with the experience. We dipped eggs in dye hoping they would come out nice colors. We were often not disappointed. We drew faces on the eggs which were generally amusing, occasionally surprisingly so.

What ruined it all was the duckling sticker you see above. It came with the egg dye, along with it's assorted friends, including a frog. Incidentally, if anyone can tell me what a frog has to do with any version of Easter, please let me know. Some cruel individual stuck this sticker to me. They probably thought they were amusing, because they hadn't examined the sticker closely.

If they had, they would have noticed that there is not a single feature of this duckling that isn't designed to strike fear into the hearts of men. The gaping maw, the stubby useless wings flapping wildly, the cross eyed something-is-very-wrong-in-there gaze, the upraised foot prepared to quash it's foes... truly, it is a creature out of nightmare. The way it blurred when I tried to photograph it just proves it's unholy nature.

I removed the creature as quickly as I could and placed it in the trash. The rest of Easter was spent hoping it would not find it's way out. The rest of my life will be spent praying it doesn't find it's way back from the landfill and kick me down some stairs...

Hope everyone had a happy Easter!

Anarchic Anthropomorphs

If you are like most people, you have probably gone through your life thinking AA stands for Alcoholics Anonymous. You also probably believe everything they tell you, and think society is being destroyed by some political group, religion, television show, or Chuck Norris.

Before you read what I have to tell you, I would like to urge you not to. What I have to tell you will turn your pleasant little world on it's ear. You will ever after be aware of the sinister forces working all around. There will always be reason to fear. So just turn off your computer and go play outside.

Still here? I wouldn't recommend that. I'll only tell you about scary things. Like the news, except significantly less annoying. Oh, and less repetitive... and probably a lot more truthful. So actually you may as well stick around if I haven't scared you off yet. Here we go:

The real AA is Anarchic Anthropomorphs. I haven't yet determined whether AA meetings are just a front for the organization, or if they are entirely separate and just happen to confusingly have the exact same acronym. Regardless, this is the actual group that is trying to destroy life as you know it through subtle manipulation of society at every level.

The human mind likes to think all intelligence at least vaguely resembles it. That's why science fiction and fantasy are filled with strange creatures with societies and thought patterns largely similar to current or past human patterns. This also applies to the animals in our lives, we like to put words in their mouthes and assume they have emotions we can understand.

This is usually a healthy tendency. It leads to creating lolcats instead of fearing the true motives of that furry alien creature you have allowed into your home. But this sort of thing can be pushed too far. You shouldn't anthropomorphise animals that you eat, for example. It's best if you think their primary emotion is a desire to be delicious.

It also should not be applied to inanimate objects. Especially ones that are simply to be disposed of after they have ceased to serve the purpose of holding your fries, like the box in today's picture. Printing text on a piece of cardboard that makes it seem as if it is talking in the first person is just disturbing. These are the sorts of lines that the Anarchic Anthropomorphs cross to influence you with their twisted agenda.

Please join me in opposing this destructive force. Eat cows, they don't think like you, their life's dream was to be a burger. Dispose of your fry boxes improperly, preferably by making a giant tower out of them. Boxes are rarely people too, their commands need not be heeded.

Meaning of Efficiency: To His Coy Mistress

Efficiency has been an important topic in some circles for a long time. Recently, it has become popularized in certain contexts due to various factors I am not currently inclined to discuss. Instead, I shall be writing on a vaguely efficiency themed topic I find amusing.

Recently I was beset by the beast of literary coursework. My particular incarnation of the beast tries to crush my spirit by blathering on about meter and rhyming schemes and how I should enjoy literature for the way words flow in it. Who in the history of the world has been taught to enjoy the flow of words in a literary work? Discovering that they enjoy literature by being exposed to it is not the same thing. 

As for rhyming and meter, what percentage of the population really needs to be forced to know such things? I have often heard complaints that the math someone is learning is something they will never use once they get out of school. That may well be true, but at least the basics of that discipline are useful to everyone, and the higher tiers are useful to a wide variety of career choices.

If I am ever wealthy beyond everyone else's wildest dreams (I must use theirs, for my own dreams hold precious little avarice) I do believe I will found a musical hamburger stand chain. All of the equipment will be operated by reading and singing poetry in the appropriate meter. Just so that anyone that wants the scansion skills forced on them to finally have a purpose may have their wish fulfilled.

Before you accost me in the street for insulting your precious literature, know that I do find value in older works. Dickens, Shakespeare, Milton, these are authors I have found interesting, and there have been (and will be) more. In the end my literature course will be a positive thing. I just wish it were a little more honest when works are actually not worth consideration but happen to be famous none the less.

If I happen to find an influential poets' work laughable, that should be a valid answer when anyone, including my teachers, ask. Literature is an utterly subjective topic. It would be far more efficient (Hah! I bet you wondered how I was going to get that back in there. No? Ah well.) to give everyone the history surrounding literature, force them to read a selection of books, then have a nice heated chat about it.

Since it's hard to institute such a regimen in a systematic fashion, I don't hold out much hope for the idea. So in the mean time I answered my exam questions very seriously and will share my true thoughts on a certain poem with you instead. I am not very proud at all to present "To His Coy Mistress" by Andrew Marvell, with commentary by yours truly:

Had we but world enough, and time,
This coyness, lady, were no crime.
We would sit down and think which way
To walk, and pass our long love's day;
Thou by the Indian Ganges' side
Shouldst rubies find; I by the tide
Of Humber would complain. I would
Love you ten years before the Flood;
And you should, if you please, refuse
Till the conversion of the Jews.
My vegetable love should grow
Vaster than empires, and more slow.
An hundred years should go to praise
Thine eyes, and on thy forehead gaze;
Two hundred to adore each breast,
But thirty thousand to the rest;
An age at least to every part,
And the last age should show your heart.
For, lady, you deserve this state,
Nor would I love at lower rate.

So, let's see... if he had enough time, he would complain for a long time. So we can infer he was feeling rushed in his schedule of whining.  He compares his love to a vegetable, but fails to specify which one. I like to think it would be an enormous parsnip. I'm not precisely sure why. Also, even if he had until the end of the world, he would spend four times as long admiring the breasts belonging to the object of his parsnipian affection than her face. I wonder if honesty won him any bonus points.

        But at my back I always hear
Time's winged chariot hurrying near;
And yonder all before us lie
Deserts of vast eternity.
Thy beauty shall no more be found,
Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound
My echoing song; then worms shall try
That long preserv'd virginity,
And your quaint honour turn to dust,
And into ashes all my lust.
The grave's a fine and private place,
But none I think do there embrace.

After that rousing beginning, he turns rather morose. I hope whoever the mistress was left him after this. Surely if the breasts thing didn't get her, hearing about how everyone is going to die and worms will find her quite tasty did. The fact that he thinks he hears winged chariots is just extra. Perhaps no one told him that normal crazy people hear voices.

        Now therefore, while the youthful hue
Sits on thy skin like morning dew,
And while thy willing soul transpires
At every pore with instant fires,
Now let us sport us while we may;
And now, like am'rous birds of prey,
Rather at once our time devour,
Than languish in his slow-chapp'd power.
Let us roll all our strength, and all
Our sweetness, up into one ball;
And tear our pleasures with rough strife
Thorough the iron gates of life.
Thus, though we cannot make our sun
Stand still, yet we will make him run.

I don't think there is much of a way to dress the last section up after the first two. The guy wants sex, and would like somebody to be quick about it. I thought poets were supposed to be sensitive intellectual types, deep thinkers, even? Why this fellow was remotely influential is beyond my powers of comprehension. Feel free to explain my ignorance to me in the comments if you want. Pronunciations of agreement and/or muffin recipes are also acceptable.

Musings of a Neophyte: On Honeymooning

My knowledge is both vast and varied. Of the expert advice available in the world, I think you should heed mine most. I'm willing to back up that claim not only with my say-so, but also with the cast iron credentials that I must possess due to my content being on the internet. All that said, I am also willing to admit there are certain topics in which I could be considered a neophyte. The usual course would obviously be to steer clear of writing about those topics. However, it recently occurred to me that a fresh perspective is often helpful when confronting problems of many sorts. This brought me to consider the fact that I could be considered an expert in fresh perspective on the very topics which traditional wisdom would dictate I not write about.

Thus freed to be an expert in all topics, I decided to start the Musings of a Neophyte series. A recent conversation with my fiancée on the topic of our honeymoon brought up the fact that neither of us was quite sure of the origins of the honeymoon tradition. A visit to the Oracle of Wiki told me more than I ever really cared to know about the origins of the tradition. My reading triggered several thoughts on the topic and only one off the topic, so I decided it would make an appropriate beginning to this series. An aside for my off topic thought: does the Oracle's logo remind anyone else of something sinister they can't quite place? To me it resembles a small incomplete moon. Why that would strike me as sinister I cannot fathom. At any rate, we have got introductions and side thoughts out of the way, why not dive into the topic at hand?

When considering my accomplishments, and the things I am likely to accomplish in the future, I can think of few that might compare to finding the girl to whom I would like to pledge my love and life. Given that, somehow convincing her to put up with me is little short of a miracle, and certainly bears celebrating. I won't bore you with any more of such talk, I promise. I just felt it needed to be clear that I am for the Honeymoon tradition in principle while I point out some of the more peculiar ideas I have found surrounding it.

There seems to be a fairly large emphasis on destinations that are both far away and expensive. Now I'm sure this will sound terrible, but one's honeymoon seems like the ideal time for neither of those to me. Typically a newly married couple doesn't have a whole lot of money to burn, since if you haven't married by the time you have a lot of money, you've also most likely turned into Mr. (or Ms.) Scrooge. Thus taking a trip that stresses the finances seems like a good way to diminish marital bliss, not extend it. Further, the end of a very long and emotional day seems a poor time to start a long drive or flight.

Okay, perhaps I didn't have that many thoughts on the topic, but you can't blame me for not having deep insights, I'm new to this! I think I like this type of expertise already...

What, you're still reading? You aren't satisfied with all that build up to so little material? Fine. I do have one more thought. Wikipedia says:

 "In many parts of Europe it was traditional to supply a newly married couple with enough mead for a month, ensuring happiness and fertility. From this practice we get honeymoon or, as the French say, lune de miel [lit. "moon of honey"]."

I say that perhaps one should reconsider a marriage that requires a month's worth of mead to ensure happiness and fertility. Just a thought.

A Series of Unfortunate Shredding (Number the Fourth After the First)

Yes, this is the final Unfortunate Shredding. If that brings you hope that I will soon move on to topics less inconsequential than shredder warning signs, good for you I suppose. Don't count on it, though. If the concept of "Number the Last" is painful to you, put down your mathematics books and go outside right now.

There is only so much even I can do with the warning labels on a shredder as it turns out. This final picture is really the one that started the whole thing, but I had to save it for last. There are so many things going on in the picture and so many ways to interpret them that the possibilities simply boggle the mind.

I'll start by analyzing the picture with science. It worked for Batman. A casual glance will tell you that this is a baby, or a strangely dressed crawling midget I suppose, but Occam's Razor dictates that we should accept the simpler explanation. If you pause to examine the picture in more detail, you may notice a drip of liquid originating from the child's right little finger, and some unknown substance clinging to it's head.

Small children are generally known for getting into things and having a sweet tooth. So this warning might stem from an incident involving a child who managed to overturn a container of molasses on himself, then crawled off to gum up the family shredder. Naturally this would be grounds for suing the company, because there were no explicit warnings about allowing syrup sodden children near their machinery.

The above explanation would be acceptable, except that it is based on a stereotype. As we all know, science cannot accept stereotypes or even such a menial concept as common sense. Therefore, another explanation is required. While it I find it tempting to say that this is caution against children infested with head crabs, the simplest interpretation would be that you shouldn't put babies in the shredder. It appears to make them glum.

A Series of Unfortunate Shredding: On Differerentiation, or Why This Is Not The Fourth

Being different can be an extremely difficult pursuit, it seems. As children we are edified on the laudable nature of the trait with much media being devoted to differences being acceptable. Yet somehow there is a tendency shortly later on to rebel and be different in precisely the same fashion as some thousands of one's peers. Naturally this leads disillusioned parents to wonder where they went wrong. Did they fail to correctly follow the prescribed pattern for teaching their child to be different? Maybe they should have played that Barney tape one more time.

I'm here today to ease the troubled minds of parents, young people, companies, platypusses, and any other individual interested in the fine art of varying from the norm. For those skilled enough, I hope to point out potential pitfalls. For those of you who are just never going to be special, I'll lay out reasons why working at being different might not be all it's cracked up to be anyway. To aid me in my discourse, I will be enlisting the aid of a very special shredder and one of it's warning signs.

Appearance of being different is often all that is actually being pursued. For example, this warning sign seems rather unusual on a shredder, but if there is actually nothing special about the shredder, and the sign is merely warning you not to empty canned lasers or pocket flamethrowers onto it, much of the appeal is lost. That warning could be put on any shredder you can buy. It's merely omitted due to rarity with which the warned against action is attempted.

Don't be a poseur. People will notice if they're smart, and who wants to impress only the truly dumb? (Don't answer that, it's rhetorical!) A faux eccentric is not likely to achieve greatness, win friends, or even influence people unless they're extremely fashionable. But that makes for even more work than ever. If you don't genuinely enjoy being different on it's own merits, rethink your life. Have a nice sit on the couch and join the group I talked about earlier that will never quite be unique.

Sometimes there is a reason that nobody has done something before: it is incredibly foolish. This should be kept in mind when entering any area that is untrod in a metaphorical sense. Perhaps even in a literal sense. If this article's warning sign indicated that one should not spray the shredder with liquid because it will melt, that would be an example of an incredibly foolish, yet unique, shredder design. If you are determined to be different, at least don't be a melting shredder.

My final point should please my entire audience, if they've read and followed my advice so far. You see, being different really isn't something that should be worked at, despite the huge amount of effort society devotes to trying to be different, or at least hold the appearance of it. People are most unique when left to their own devices to find the path that makes sense to them. That's why I like to assume that warning label means one should not put their favorite spray bottle in the shredder, because it happens to be designed to shred spray bottles, just in case somebody needed to.