Suck will be embraced

Michael Bates has made his official disendorsement for Mayor of Tulsa:

Both the Taylor and Bartlett campaigns have spent piles of money pushing their preferred memes — positive memes about their own candidates and negative memes about the opposition. Because I wish they could both lose on Tuesday, I’ve spent my limited blogging time during this campaign trying to debunk the nonsense from each side. No, Kathy Taylor did not bring us to the brink of bankruptcy, and Dewey Bartlett Jr didn’t rescue us from bankruptcy. Dewey has been as big a spender as Kathy. You can’t push all the blame for the trash mess onto Bartlett Jr; Taylor deserves a big share of the blame, too. Neither candidate is visionary or competent or bold. Both backed the Great Plains Airlines bailout. Both have had problems working respectfully with those who disagree with them, particularly their fellow elected officials.

Tulsa voters have made a mess. Maybe if their noses are rubbed in it they won’t do it again.

I hear it’s really nice in Bixby these days.

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But privacy!

Like the Postal Service is going to deliver to someone named, oh, how about “herbtarlekxoxo11″:

I recently bought something off eBay. Will the package have my name (on my account) or my eBay username? Does the buyer have access to my real name?

Um, aren’t you the buyer?

If you insist on leaving no trail, go to the farking thrift shop like everyone else. And pay cash.

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Nabiscold

Cookie sales in China aren’t zooming upward the way they used to be:

At Mondelēz distributors in China, there are piles of unsold Oreo and Chips Ahoy cookies. Why? China is in an economic slump. The brand is used to 25% sales increases every year, and increases are down to only 3% in the first quarter of 2013.

Aw. Quelle fromage.

Now if we find out they’ve been hoarding Mallomars — well, perhaps we should not go there.

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Ermahgerd! Studernts!

Says so right here:

Cranberry School Geography Bee

The Cranbury School is located in Cranbury, New Jersey (Exit 8A), in case you need to brush up for the next Geograohy Bee.

(One of many inscrutable offerings at BadNewspaper.com.)

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Sun returning

It was de rigueur at one time to mock that silly Greenwich Village fellow John B. Sebastian for this infamous lyric: “The record man said every one is a yellow Sun record from Nashville / And up North here ain’t nobody buys ‘em, and I said ‘But I will’.”

Sun Records, of course, was from Memphis; Sam Phillips was never one of those Nashville cats. Then in 1969 Shelby Singleton bought Sun from Sam Phillips, and eventually moved Sun headquarters to, um, Nashville. So Sebastian got the last laugh, and he is welcome to it. Sun wasn’t recording any new material, anyway: Singleton was content to maintain the Sun catalog as it was.

Then Singleton died in 2009, and Collin Brace, who’d only just started at the label, saw his chance. The first act signed by Sun in forty years is Julie Roberts, who’d done two albums for Mercury and a third on her own Ain’t Skeerd imprint.

Roberts’ first Sun release is Good Wine and Bad Decisions, and if that’s not a classic country title, I’ve never heard one. There exists a lyrics-only video of the title track. Chuck Dauphin of Music News Nashville notes:

What is so captivating about this disc is that she couldn’t have recorded it during her days on Mercury a few years back. Sometimes, survival is one of the most attractive trait of all, and over the past few years Roberts has survived losing her home in the 2010 Nashville flood, a battle with MS, and more than a few nights with decisions that she might have regretted. Knowing where you have fallen, and not killing yourself over it is something that Roberts can sing and write very ably about.

Something for the wish list, you may be sure.

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He’s not the girl you thought he was

A Canadian chap has been ordered off Twitter for a year for pretending to be someone else:

A [Sault Ste. Marie] man is banned from Twitter for 12 months for creating accounts in a young woman’s name on the online social networking service and posting explicit photographs of her.

David Pajunen, 41, pleaded guilty to personation when he appeared in court Wednesday on charges from February.

At the request of the Crown attorney, Judge Nathalie Gregson dismissed a charge of criminal harassment.

So we have “personation” and “impersonation.” Kind of like “flammable” and “inflammable,” I guess.

As part of Pajunen’s probation, he can have no access to a Twitter account and can’t communicate with the victim.

“You can’t reference her name anywhere on the Internet,” Gregson warned him.

Pajunen, being Canadian and all, will probably comply with these restrictions, unlike some Americans you could name.

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Not yet faded away

There are fewer of us every year: the oldest pass on to a different plane of existence entirely, and not so many of the youngest are putting in their time anymore.

I used to wish for the day when we’d no longer be needed. But this wish was in vain: the delusions of our current batch of policy wonks and rank amateurs notwithstanding, it takes ordnance to do what ordinances cannot. So now I wish for the day when we can complete a proper mission and then go home, the way God and General Patton intended. Is that so much to ask?

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Strange search-engine queries (406)

Yes, it’s Veterans Day, and no, this feature is not taking the day off. I was a soldier once, and I knew that at any moment it could become a 24/7 job.

List The homesex hungry roman emperers in ancient rome:  This is what porn does to you. A year ago, this guy was looking for Hungry Hungry Hippos.

taripal sax xxx pechar:  Well, if you ask me, your spelling is taripal.

quasi-automotive:  About half of the Car Talk Puzzlers are so described.

2001 mercury mystice transmission wont go intodrive:  I do hope your checkbook is primed.

shiri zinn for baci minx:  Sounds like a fair trade to me.

disney’s first law:  “When you wish upon a star…” (You know the rest.)

Company that deals on refurbished Mazda 626 brainbox:  Since the last 626 was made 11 years ago, just finding one should be considered a deal.

where is my 401k money from metris companies:  They borrowed it to rent programmers for healthcare.gov.

Great mens lives begin at forty where the mediocre man’s life ends.The genius remains an ever-flowing fountain of creative achievement, until the very last breath he draws. -Glenn Clarke:  Hmmm. I’ve already beaten the spread by two decades. Who knew?

lmiss you Ø­18:  I miss you too, R2.

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Have you seen these Wizards?

Washington hadn’t won a game here in several years. Then again, they’d had a series of losing teams, barely on par with the infamous Generals; it was late last season before they started to show some life.

They showed a lot more of it at the ‘Peake tonight: the Thunder, after a horrid ten-point second quarter, had trouble regaining their composure, and the Wizards calmly, to the extent that anything involving Nenê can be called “calmly,” took the Thunder apart. The greatest damage was done by Bradley Beal, who racked up 34 points on 13-23 shooting, a Durant-ish line that included six treys. Trevor Ariza added 15 despite missing every one of his five free throws; Nenê had 14 before being ejected for a second technical, despite missing six of his ten free throws. He got those T’s by getting up, or down, in Russell Westbrook’s face. Westbrook wasn’t going to take that sort of thing, and he responded both times; he, too, was thumbed. And then the Thunder began to take it personally. Down ten at the time of the ejections, they ran off nine straight, and with 13.6 seconds left, OKC, via a KD trey, forged a 96-all tie. Overtime, as it will, ensued. With four seconds left and the Thunder up 106-105, a Jeremy Lamb shot bounced back out of the rim; John Wall’s layup lay down, Thabo Sefolosha took the ball away, and that’s how it ended.

Did I mention Durant’s line? Thirty-three points on 12-23 shooting. How Bealesque. Now add 13 rebounds to that. In the absence of Westbrook, Reggie Jackson and Serge Ibaka had to kick in some offense; Jackson led all reserves with 12, and Ibaka posted a season-high 25 points with 12 rebounds. And we didn’t see Nick Collison all night; he was scratched after a contusion.

Still, the Wizards are fearable: all five starters (plus Al Harrington) in double figures, and their We Quit never, ever showed up at all.

Off to the West Coast we go.

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Over by the waste gate

The last page of Car and Driver these days is titled “What I’d Do Differently”; it’s an interview with someone who has earned a measure of fame somewhere in the automotive world. In December ’13, it’s specialty builder Reeves Callaway, who, says the intro, “has blanketed America with 1800 modified Corvettes and more than a few peculiar engines.”

Regarding the latter, this Q/A exchange reflects the intractability of the laws of physics:

Q: You’ve turbocharged Alfas, Holdens, and Land Rovers. Is there a marque that proved to be a big mistake?

A: Oh, sure, the turbo system we made for the VW Vanagon. Never turbocharge anything that will be driven all day long at wide-open throttle. Never.

About 1983, the successor to the Microbus was the recipient of a new Wasserboxer engine, water-cooled and blessed with Bosch digital engine management. Then again, we’re still talking 95 hp pushing around a box with the general aerodynamic profile of, well, a box; I learned to drive in a second-generation Microbus, which had half the ponies and 90 percent of the mass, and I drove that thing flat-out mostly to avoid becoming a very tall speed bump. Vanagon drivers, moving up from the Microbus, no doubt had developed similar habits.

And longevity in a turbo systems is at least partially dependent on how often the blower is having to blow. If it’s blowing all the time, as it would do in a vehicle constantly at WOT — well, you can see Callaway’s problem here, since his reputation was built on cars that didn’t grenade their engines.

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Mrs. Paul was never this finicky

Having once — way back in, oh, the 1980s — demonstrated my ability to produce a pie crust that didn’t end up with the general texture of a bicycle inner tube, I decided I would rely on simpler means thereafter. (There’s a reason for that word “once.”) Usually this requires a trip to the local market or to a separate bakery, but for some reason (I’m guessing a sale price) I plucked one of Mrs. Smith’s frozen concoctions out of the supermarket and schlepped it home.

The instructions on these, it seems to me, have gotten somewhat anal. Six steps now, of which the first, not unreasonably, is “Place oven rack into center position. Preheat oven to 400°.”

The second is a little snippier: “Remove frozen pie from box, and remove plastic overwrap from pie. Do not remove pie from original foil pan. Leave pan on counter while oven is preheating. After 10 minutes on counter, cut 4-6 slits in top crust.”

Emphasis added. Apparently Mrs. Smith, or one of her lackeys, believes that it takes 11 minutes or more to preheat an oven to 400°. I am here to tell you that my own 11-year-old Kenmore can do the job in 8:25. Moral: Render unto Sears the things that are Sears’.

The rest is fairly typical, though the juxtaposition of KEEP FROZEN and BAKE BEFORE SERVING on the front of the box suggests the potential for cognitive dissonance for the buyer who doesn’t quite understand the dynamics of frozen pie, and for the lawyer who’ll take his case after an unsatisfactory experience therewith.

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Hey, at least they asked

Apple delivered iTunes 11.1.3 this past week, and as usual, the Standard Sources kicked up all manner of information about what’s new in the Mac OS version, most of which doesn’t apply to us poor Windows heathen.

That said, while the install was as tedious as ever, I caught one little bit of phraseology whipping by above the status bar: “Checking to see if system restart is necessary.”

Would that actual Windows applications had that much courtesy.

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Hardly ineffable

It’s always F-bomb time somewhere:

The site FBomb.co maps in real time whenever the F-word is dropped on Twitter. America and Britain are leaders in cursing online, according to the interactive map, with New Yorkers tagged as the biggest offenders.

Thanks to its creator Martin Gingras, a junior at Carleton University in Ottawa, Canada, the map not only tracks the F-bombs as they happen, but also features pins that can be clicked to see a tweet and who tweeted it. On Twitter, @FBomb_co retweets random tweets that make up the map.

There are days when I suspect it’s retweeting my entire timeline.

In the time it took me to type this and paste that, about 40 effers were lofted into the Twittersphere. While the tweets are not identified by specific location — all you get is the map — they do include the entire text (with links, if present, though not directly clickable) and the username.

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It’s okay to shoot the moon

It seems that ninety-something percent of photographs of singer/guitarist Susan Tedeschi, forty-three today, show her in Intense Musician Mode, concentrating on the flow as it goes. Then there’s this one, from the 2010 Crossroads Guitar Festival:

Susan Tedeschi in blue

Still, this is an anomaly, as such things go.

In 2010, both Tedeschi and husband Derek Trucks — he’s the nephew of original Allman Brothers Band drummer Butch Trucks — put their individual touring bands aside and formed the Tedeschi Trucks Band. Watch her face, and watch his fingers. Better yet, just listen:

It’s a familiar theme: A goes on the road, B remains behind and cries into the night sky. It’s perhaps the most morose song John Sebastian ever wrote; there’s something almost reassuring about seeing an actual married couple pulling it off.

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Go this way and that way

Everything you always wanted to know about labyrinths:

The labyrinth talk was interesting. It was mainly about how they are becoming increasingly used in the US, both as a spiritual exercise (lots of churches, especially, it seems, Episcopal churches, have them) and as a relaxation technique (some hospitals have them available both for staff and patients/relatives of patients). But he also touched on the history a bit and made the assertion that the general form of the labyrinth, like the famous one at Chartres, is more or less common across cultures, even cultures that might not have had contact for thousands of years at the time they were building them. So either it’s an idea far, far older than the 4000 years or so (his claim, I don’t know that for sure) that the oldest ones known date back to, or else it’s a common idea “in the air” that multiple cultures came up with. (Or, I suppose: there was a lot more cultural contact than what we know about. There are legends, for example, of the “lost years” of Jesus (between age 12 and age 30 or so) including time spent in what is now India.)

He also noted that in some Hopi and Navajo art, a similar form shows up and sometimes it is called “maze” or something similar.

He also noted that they were set up so that there was no “wrong” way to do them. Heh. That struck me because I am always excessively worried, I think, about doing things the “correct” way. (Of course, labyrinth design is simple enough that you don’t have to think to follow it — that’s kind of the point). But he observes there’s no set speed you’re “supposed” to go (though the idea is to do it slowly) and no set time you’re supposed to spend at the center.

I have added a couple of links to the original.

As I understand things, if it’s one continuous, albeit torturous-looking, path, it’s properly a labyrinth; if there are several dead ends scattered within, it’s a maze. (The convoluted structure outside Canterlot Castle is a maze.) There is, therefore, no “wrong” way to navigate a labyrinth; there are several wrong ways to navigate a maze.

And the popular Labyrinth game turns out, on closer inspection, to be more of a maze.

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All they have to do is dream

Originally — we’re talking 1856 here — it was Coal Creek, after the stream that runs through the town. You might even remember the Coal Creek War, which kicked off in 1891 when owners of area coal mines got the idea of replacing their paid labor, which might at any moment unionize, with convicts leased from Tennessee prisons. The conflict lasted over a year; the memories persisted a bit longer, and in 1936 the town was renamed Lake City, there being a new lake not too far up the road, thanks to the TVA’s Norris Dam.

Now comes the possibility of a third name, this one courtesy of Felice and Boudleaux Bryant:

Seriously. Lake City wants to be Rocky Top:

[I]n Lake City, supporters hope a name change would have them tuning in newfound prosperity.

Development plans include a Disney-style interactive, 3-D animated theater; a Branson, Mo.-style live music venue; an indoor-outdoor waterpark and a 500-seat paddleboat restaurant on an as yet-to-be-constructed artificial lake, according to Anderson County Commissioner Tim Isbel.

Of course, it’s not just for the bling:

At city hall Thursday night, a standing-room-only crowd broke into loud applause after the council took the first step toward making the change, voting to ask the state legislature for authorization. State Rep. John Ragan was at the meeting and said he thought it would pass easily in Nashville.

One of those in attendance was Gordon Cox, a long-time Lake City resident whose grandfather served several terms as mayor. Cox said the city has lost so many businesses in recent years that it is in danger of becoming unincorporated and losing its police force.

“Only good can happen from this name change,” he said.

The Bryants, who supposedly wrote “Rocky Top” in ten minutes, weren’t available for comment, having long since passed on; however, BMI, I’m pretty sure, wouldn’t have any complaint.

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